The Games the Earl Plays_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  Gerard let go of her arm and walked into the music room. “My great-grandmother had this room added to the house, though as you can see, it’s been brought up to the times.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Are you all right?”

  He looked down and was startled to find that Rose had not only followed him but had positioned herself less than a foot away.

  She removed her glove and reached up. Coming to her toes, she touched his forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”

  “Are you sure?” Because he was starting to. Why was he having this reaction to her touch?

  Her fingers slid down his temple and over his cheek then to the back of his neck. Her expression was worried. “What did you eat today?”

  His eyes slid to her mouth, and he tried to recall what he’d eaten without thinking about what he wanted to eat. Her. If he closed the door, he could devour her mouth and no one would be the wiser. Would she let him? Would she pull away or press herself closer?

  He took a step back, but with her hand on his neck and her balance resting on her toes, it caused her to fall forward. He caught her, and his arms went around her small waist.

  Her hand fell to rest on his shoulder, and her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Then she laughed at what she thought to be her own clumsiness.

  Breathtaking.

  Gerard dipped his head and then stilled.

  She was frozen as well, and he felt the moment her heart began to race, felt her breathing become rushed and her chest rise and fall to accommodate it. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder and her cheeks flushed.

  And he knew at that moment that if he kissed her, if he dared, she would let him.

  She wouldn’t stop him, and he didn’t know if he would stop at a simple kiss. A kiss alone would complicate their relationship and possibly both their lives.

  He didn’t even want to think about the repercussions of kissing Rose, but he did, and that was what stopped him.

  He put on a smile and set her away from him. “Mrs. Kyles, my housekeeper, will show you to your room. Thank you for coming.”

  She put a false smile on. “Thank you for the invitation… and the book.”

  “What book?”

  She lifted her brows. “You didn’t buy me a copy of Emma?”

  “No.” Though he should have and was slightly annoyed that someone else had. “Perhaps your brothers bought it for you?”

  She shook her head. “No, they all claim they did not, nor did Alex or Justin.”

  Gerard didn’t like that. “Have you a secret admirer, Rose?”

  Color rushed to her neck, and she placed her gloveless hand there. “Oh, I don’t think so. Do you think it possible?”

  It was very possible since he was on the verge of becoming one himself. He looked Rose over and could not deny she was a very desirable woman. He suddenly had the urge to murder the man who’d bought her the book. “Where did you find it?”

  “In my room.” She took off her other glove and placed them in her pockets. “Where would I find Mrs. Kyles?”

  He moved toward her again and took her arm. “Aren’t you concerned that some crazed man was in your room?”

  She looked up. “Most likely it was a servant who delivered it for whoever bought it.” Then she shrugged. “And this isn’t the first book strange book I’ve received anyway.”

  “When did you get the others?”

  She thought for a moment. “I received Pride and Prejudice two years ago and Mansfield Park last year.” She smiled. “At least my admirer knows how fond I am of that particular author.”

  “Rose, this is no laughing matter.” He glared. “Someone is out to get you.”

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed mockingly. “I shall die from a papercut.” She laughed.

  He wanted to shake her.

  “Where’s Mrs. Kyles? I really must bathe and change.”

  He released her. “Rose, you can’t mention bathing in front of me.”

  She started for the door. “Why not?”

  “Because.” He followed her. “It’s improper.” And he didn’t need an image of her in a bath in his mind.

  She scoffed. “I believe it to be far more proper than some of the things you’ve said over the past year.” She turned to him at the door and that mischievous look returned to her eyes. “It isn’t as though I invited you to join me.”

  Gerard was struck speechless. Dumb and mute. He wasn’t even sure he was still breathing.

  They’d flirted before, but it was only ever he who made obscene comments.

  Never Rose.

  Who was this creature he’d allowed into his home?

  And how would he respond if she did invite him?

  She smiled and bit her lower lip before leaving him in the music room.

  The house party had yet to begin and already Gerard was overwhelmed, more anxious and excited than one ought to be for such an occasion.

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  8

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

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  Gerard was avoiding her and had been for two days now. With the majority of the guests’ arrivals, Rose had thought that perhaps he’d simply had no time for her, but she’d soon come to realize that it was not the guests who were keeping Gerard away, but Gerard himself.

  Why the distance?

  The party was moving along successfully, and Rose could claim to have had a hand in it. While Alex was the hostess, she’d enlisted Rose’s assistance, asking Rose to greet any late arrivals to the party, see to the seating arrangements once people made their requests known, and whenever Alex had a question for Gerard, Rose was sent to get the answer.

  But thinking to catch him alone, Rose was disappointed to find Gerard in the company of his valet, Mr. McCoy, who seemed glued to his employer’s side unless Gerard was with one of the other guests.

  There had been no touching of the nose or tugging of the ear. He’d given her no sign that he wished to speak to her alone at all.

  Was he avoiding her yet again?

  Tomorrow the first lecture would begin and some of the women would be joining the men for it. Rose didn’t really care to hear Lord Grant speak on his theories of the spread of infections and decided she wouldn’t go unless Gerard asked.

  So far, he’d not asked since that day in the library in London, and Rose was beginning to wonder if it had been a good idea to come at all.

  Though she couldn’t say it had been all bad. The guests were kind to her. Rose was sure her wardrobe had helped. A few of the married—and unmarried—lords had made indecent suggestions or given her sensual looks. One bold gentleman had even suggested they meet alone, as though being unattached to a title made her a common doxy, but she ignored their comments and remained gracious, never once hinting that she found them highly disrespectful. Besides, the only person she wanted to be alone with was Gerard.

  But alas, she was by herself.

  With the men planning to hunt and the women planning a day indoors away from the heat, Rose decided it was time to visit the old Best residence. The thought of doing so lifted her spirits somewhat. If she didn’t see Gerard at all during the party, then at least she had another reason to be in town.

  When she’d asked the stablehands for a small gig, the servants had looked ready to riot against the very idea, telling her such a contraption was not for a woman such as she. Then every man there had offered to personally drive her himself. She’d seen no point in informing them that she was not who they thought she was, not a woman of wealth or attached to any gentleman, but she did make it known that she intended to go alone.

  Rose had driven the city streets of London since she was old enough to hold the reins. She’d helped Mary Frances on her errands, had many of the other children, leading their one horse to and from the market at least once a week.

  After another few minutes,
she’d been given a cabriolet, a stylish carriage that sat one person and was led by one horse. It was nothing more than a fancy gig, imported from France. Rose did find the ride to the village very lovely. The high back shielded her from the sun.

  It didn’t take her more than an hour to get from Avon Park to the village, though thoughts of Gerard made her anxious to end the journey so that she could see him again despite her disappointment in him.

  The village, while it had probably once been nothing more than a few shops and farms, was more like a city, though nothing near the size of London, and was very busy.

  She passed long curved terraces and high brick residences before reaching the heart of the city, where the architecture held a more classic look with Grecian-styled buildings with wide fluted columns.

  She made her way toward the street that went west and drove the cabriolet over a cobblestone bridge before stopping to ask for further help. A woman with a small child was nice enough to assure Rose she was heading in the right direction, and Rose set off once again, taking a road that became less populated by the minute. Finally, she came to a row of homes that were unattached from one another with alleyways that would hardly allow one person through, much less a carriage. Finding the address, she stopped her horse and dismounted.

  Mary Frances would be glad to know that the exterior of the home seemed well-kept.

  The Queen Anne home was flat, made of bricks with windows that were flush with the dark exterior, and was well-preserved.

  She went up the sweeping steps and knocked on the door out of nothing more than habit. When no one answered, she used the key Mary Frances had given her and went inside.

  The foyer was empty with only dust and a mingling of light and shadows. The staircase that led up to the second floor seemed freshly polished, however, and the smell of lemon greeted her. Rose moved through the first floor, circling through the sitting room that now only held a small burner and whose walls were a white that had turned with time. She entered a red dining room and clean kitchen before finishing that side of the house and coming back around.

  It was a much smaller building than the Best Home in London that Rose had grown up in. She couldn’t imagine more than a small family living here. She tried to picture Mary Elizabeth as a young woman who took on the plight of the unfortunate but found doing so very hard. She only knew Mary Elizabeth through paintings and sketches. Having been one-year-old when the woman died left Rose without a single memory of her. However, that didn’t make her any less grateful for what Miss Best had done for her.

  The second time Rose allowed her mind to picture life in the house, she did so while imagining that it was not the Best Home, but Rose’s home. A place where she was married to a man who loved her with a group of children who never stayed clean. She imagined a place full of love and dreams and whenever she pictured her children’s faces, their eyes were the color of copper pennies, staring up at her with joy and bliss.

  It was unrealistic. Her children would likely have blue eyes or any other color that was not related to Gerard.

  She put him aside again and started up the stairs. Finding the house empty, she wondered why Alicia had sent her to fetch anything. There’d been little point of coming, but since she’d probably have to give them a full report, she would make sure it was thorough.

  The second floor was just as empty as the first, with three bedchambers and nothing more. There were beds in the rooms, but she couldn’t imagine Alicia wishing Rose to bring back a bed. While the children were often forced to share beds, sharing was done to keep one another alive and warm during the winter. Also, there was no room for them.

  She left the second floor and returned to the first. Locking the door behind her, she moved to the cabriolet and turned back to look at the house once more. A moment later, she narrowed her eyes. At the peak in the house was a third floor. An attic with its own window. She hadn’t seen a way to get to it. She mentally walked through the second floor of the house again but was sure she’d not missed a flight of stairs or another door.

  She circled the house and went through the alley, pulling her skirts close to her as she moved down the thin pathway. The back of the house revealed nothing. She returned to the front and was startled to find her horse no longer alone.

  In fact, her horse was with its master.

  Gerard stroked the white animal’s nose before turning to look at her. “What are you doing here?” His brows were drawn together as he looked her over before settling on her eyes.

  Rose crossed the sidewalk to him but didn’t respond to his question. She couldn’t. As she stared into his eyes, there were so many things that went through her mind. “How did you find me?” she asked instead.

  “Alex told me where you were when I arrived at the house.” He was still dressed in his hunting attire. His dark coat and breeches were cut in a way that made him seem invincible, as though he were a man who could roam both woodlands and jungle without fear. His dark hair was slightly out of place.

  “Was the hunt a success?” she asked.

  He moved closer and touched her cheek. “You’ve dirt right here.” His touch was gentle but firm. Why he chose to use his fingers and not his handkerchief, she didn’t know. Rose’s heart raced, and she looked around to note there was almost no one on the street except for a woman with her children a few houses down and across the street. No one was looking at them.

  But the homes had windows, and where there were windows there were eyes.

  “I must have touched something and then my face.” Though she didn’t recall doing so. “Is it gone?”

  He dropped his hand. “Yes.”

  “What was it?” She moved her hand to her cheek and came back with nothing.

  “Doesn’t matter. Why are you here?” he asked again.

  She moved away from him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to find you.” He looked irritated.

  “That was unnecessary, for I was not lost, and I’m done. So I’ll see you at the house.” She moved to climb onto the cabriolet, but he cut in front of her and took her arm, leading her away from the horse.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “You’ll ride with me. My stableman will take the cabriolet back.” He stopped in front of an open curricle and his stableman—the one who’d put up the biggest fight about Rose leaving alone—stepped down from the seat. She frowned and looked at Gerard.

  “You planned this,” she accused. He could have easily ridden into town on a horse, but instead, he’d dragged the stableman along so he could drive Rose’s vehicle.

  Gerard turned to his accomplice. “Take Luna around the city before returning home. She hardly gets the exercise.”

  “Why is that?” Rose asked as she stared at the white beauty.

  “She’s my slowest animal.” Gerard held his hand out to assist her.

  Rose glared but took it. “I could have driven to the house on my own.”

  “But then you would be heading home.”

  She barely waited for him to settle in before she spoke. “We’re not returning to the house? Where are you taking me?”

  He smiled at her then looked away before getting his team underway. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  She stopped herself just short of groaning. She hated surprises.

  But she made sure she turned away before she smiled.

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  9

  CHAPTER

  NINE

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  Gerard knew what he’d done to earn Rose’s ire.

  When he’d invited her, his feelings had been clear. Rose was pretty but nothing more than a friend. Now, whenever he pictured her, he couldn’t seem to stop imagining them as more. He wanted to do things with her that no friends should want. Thus, he stayed away if only to get himself under control.

  As he led the curricle ove
r the bridge and back to the center of town, he glanced over and noticed that she’d not only crossed her arms but was leaning so close to the opening that he feared she’d tumble out.

  “Rose,” he called. “You’ll fall out if you press any closer to the side.”

  “Well, it seems only the thought of my danger holds the power to gain your attention these days.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s not true.” Though as he turned back to the road, he didn’t question why she thought so.

  He’d been avoiding her. Though it hurt, he was sure he’d made the right choice. Every time he saw her, his hands grew sweaty and his heart raced. When they sat for a meal, he could barely focus on his own food for becoming fixated on how she ate. He’d nearly spilled his coffee on himself that morning. Twice. He’d told McCoy not to leave his side whenever he was alone and especially when Rose was near. His valet had made no comment about the strange request and Gerard had given him no explanation.

  But now he was better. His feelings were settled, and he realized that whatever malady had come over him days ago was no more. Though he’d been surprised by his need to touch her. There’d been no dirt on her cheek, just unblemished smooth skin beneath his fingers.

  “You always have my attention,” he said with his eyes on the road.

  “Oh, well, I’m most flattered.” Her response was snappy, and though he knew it was terrible, it didn’t stop the smile that appeared on his face.

  “You’re grinning?” she hissed.

  He looked at her and found her much too beautiful when angered. Her cheeks had darkened, and her mouth looked fuller when parted.

  She was wearing a shade of pink today, which make her skin look like white silk and her eyes like blue glass. Sharpened glass, if one added her anger.