A Stranger's Gamble (Lords of Chance Book 3)

by Tarah Scott

  Sophie took another bite of her biscuit and rolled her eyes. “There will be no dawn appointment. That is far too dramatic for my liking. I want to see Edinburgh, and Mr. MacAlister is the perfect guide.”

  “Surely, the marquess would love to be your guide?”

  Sophie grimaced. “I have no desire to fend off the attention of a man who would like nothing better than to force me into marriage by getting me with child.”

  “Good heavens, what makes you think he would do that? I thought Mr. MacAlister said he doesn’t want to marry.”

  Sophie snorted. “The marquess is desperate for money. Such men cannot be trusted.”

  “You don’t want children?” Beatrice asked.

  Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Aunt Maddie never married and had children. Look at the gay life she lives.” Beatrice opened her mouth to reply, and Sophie cut her off. “Never mind. I will attend the card party. Then, this evening, I will slip out and meet Mr. MacAlister.”

  ***

  That afternoon at precisely twelve o’clock, their carriage halted in front of a large three-story townhouse.

  Sophie peered out the window and sighed. “I would rather be with Mr. MacAlister.”

  Heaven help her. Was she actually developing a tendre for him? That could be dangerous.

  “Perhaps the party will be amusing,” Beatrice said.

  The carriage swayed slightly as the driver leapt from his seat to the ground. An instant later, he opened the door and helped first Sophie, then Beatrice from the carriage.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Sophie said. “I believe we will be no more than two hours.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “Two hours? That will be just after lunch. Your aunt said Lady Ella planned games until teatime. Then we will have tea.”

  “I have no intention of wasting an afternoon playing games,” Sophie said. “Two o’clock please, Mr. Jones.”

  He bowed. “As you wish, miss.”

  Sophie turned with Beatrice and started up the walkway toward the house. As they ascended the three steps to the door, the door opened, and a tall woman dressed in a gray dress greeted them.

  “Miss Shaw, I presume?” the woman said.

  Sophie nodded. “Aye, and this is my companion, Miss Frasier.”

  The woman angled her head in acknowledgement. “Lady Ella and her guests are in the Gold drawing room. Please follow me.”

  Sophie followed with Beatrice at her side. They entered the house and Sophie’s attention caught on the ornate mahogany table to the left of the door, where sat two lamps and an ornate silver candelabra, polished to blinding brightness. They followed the woman down the hallway. Sophie glimpsed a room she guessed to be a study, with a large oak desk and shelves of books. Portraits hung on the walls, and she recognized Lady Ella’s grandfather, the late earl. He had once attended a party Sophie’s father hosted when her mother still lived.

  They ascended one flight of stairs and continued down a long hallway then turned a corner. Doors to a room at the far end of the hallway stood open. The pianoforte Sophie glimpsed was enough to confirm that Lady Ella’s family was quite wealthy. Maybe even wealthier than her father. Perhaps Lady Ella would be a good candidate for marriage to the marquess. Aunt Maddie had said the girl was an only child. Surely, she would like to be a marchioness?

  They reached the drawing room where a dozen men and women milled about the room. An unusually tall, pretty blonde surrounded by four other women looked their way and her face lit. She said something to the women, who also looked in their direction, then she glided across the room toward them.

  When she reached them, she said to Sophie, “You must be Miss Shaw.”

  Sophie gave a small curtsey. Beatrice followed suit.

  The young woman laughed. “We’ll have none of that. I am Ella.” She extended a hand and Sophie grasped her hand, surprised when Lady Ella gave a firm handshake.

  Sophie released her and angled her head toward Beatrice. “This is my friend Miss Frasier.”

  To Sophie’s surprise, Lady Ella extended her hand toward Beatrice.

  Beatrice accepted and they shook hands. “My lady.”

  “Ella,” she corrected.

  Beatrice looked at Sophie, eyes wide. Sophie bit back a laugh and gave a slight nod.

  Beatrice looked back at the woman. “Ella.”

  Ella smiled. “There now. Come, let me introduce you to everyone.”

  She began with the four women she’d been talking to when Sophie and Beatrice had arrived. Slowly, they made their way through the room. By the time Ella had introduced them to everyone, Sophie had decided the liked the girl.

  Ella next fed them meat pies, cakes and lemonade, which Sophie thoroughly enjoyed. She felt certain Beatrice also secretly enjoyed the food for she asked for seconds. They played two hands of whist—which was torture for Sophie. For others, as well, she suspected, as the room was too quiet.

  She now sat with Beatrice on a small sofa near the French doors, which opened onto a lawn. Sophie glanced at the mantle clock. 1:45. Thank heavens. Their driver would arrive within the quarter hour. He likely was already waiting for them.

  Two women sat on the couch opposite them.

  “I hear he has his eye on a very wealthy heiress,” said the dark-haired woman. “I am certain she will capitulate, whoever she is, for Lord Monthemer is terribly handsome.”

  Sophie tensed.

  “But there was that scandal with Lady Fleming,” the other woman said.

  “Scandal always follows attractive men,” the first woman replied.

  Sophie glanced at Beatrice, then leaned forward slightly. “Forgive me, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I, too, heard that Lord Monthemer was on the hunt for a wife.”

  The women exchanged a look, then nodded. “He is penniless, so he needs an heiress.”

  “You have no idea who he has in mind?” Sophie asked.

  Both women shook their heads and the fair-haired woman said, “I did hear he made an offer, but I have no idea who the lucky lady is.”

  Lucky lady, indeed, Sophie thought, but said, “What is this scandal with Lady Fleming.”

  “We ought not to tell tales,” the dark-haired woman said.

  “Well, it was a year ago,” said the fair-haired woman. “And the incident is common knowledge.” She leaned forward a little. “You see, Lord Monthemer was to marry Lady Fleming. However, Lady Fleming owned the gaming hall where Lord Monthemer’s father lost their fortune.”

  Sophie blinked. “Lord Monthemer’s betrothed owned a gaming hell, and.…”

  The two women nodded.

  This was the man her father wanted her to marry? Did her father know of this scandal? He couldn’t know.

  “The old earl shot himself two days later,” the dark-haired woman said.

  Sophie drew a sharp breath. “That is…terrible.”

  She hadn’t known any of this story. Was Lady Fleming a true lady? What lady owned a gaming hall? What kind of man wanted to marry a woman like that? His father lost his fortune, then shot himself. She knew such things happened but had never known anyone who had faced such a tragedy.

  The clock on the mantle gentle chimed, and Sophie realized the two o’clock hour had arrived. It was time she and Beatrice leave. Lady Ella approached as Sophie and Beatrice stood.

  “Let us take a walk in the garden,” Ella said as she neared them. “Perhaps the fresh air will invigorate us.”

  “That is kind of you,” Sophie said. “However, our driver awaits us.”

  Ella frowned and glanced in the direction of the clock. “You have been here less than two hours.” A twinkle appeared in her eyes. “That does not quite satisfy an afternoon visit.”

  Sophie blinked. Was the girl threatening to tell Sophie’s aunt if Sophie left so early?

  Lady Ella linked arms with Sophie. “Come, a walk will do us good.”

  The other guests rose, and Sophie sighed and allowed herself to be led from the room and thr
ough the open French doors. Autumn sun beat down upon them, and Sophie breathed deep of the crisp air. She looked over her shoulder at Beatrice and motioned for her to come up on Sophie’s left. Beatrice shook her head and maintained a short distance behind.

  Sophie faced forward and, an instant later, they reached bushes a head taller than her. “Is this a maze?” she asked in delight.

  “Indeed, it is,” Lady Ella replied.

  “I have never been in a maze.”

  “Then you are in for a treat,” her host said.

  Half a dozen of the guests brushed past them and disappeared around the bend.

  “They seem in a hurry,” Sophie said.

  Lady Ella laughed. “My guess is they have a wager who can reach the other side of the maze first.”

  Sophie looked at her. “Is the maze really that difficult?”

  “That depends on who you ask. I grew up here, so I know the maze well. Though Father does have the pattern changed on occasion.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I think he does it to peeve my mother.”

  “Oh dear,” Sophie said. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I do not know,” Ella replied with a small laugh. “I think they like to irk each other.”

  Sophie wasn’t sure what to make of that, so said nothing.

  “How are you finding Edinburgh?” Ella asked.

  Sophie thought of last night, the oyster cellar and Adam MacAlister. “I am finding Edinburgh quite wonderful.”

  Lady Ella looked down at her. “Indeed? What have you done since you arrived?”

  Sophie recognized the curiosity in her eyes and hid a smile. Lady Ella had a taste for mischief. They would get along famously. Of course, Sophie wouldn’t mention her escapades with Mr. MacAlister.

  Sophie grimaced. “To be honest, my aunt has had me busy with fittings and preparations for the social life she has planned for me.”

  “Such as this luncheon?” Lady Ella asked with no little amusement.

  They turned the bend, and Sophie cried out in surprise at the sight of the intersection that led in three different directions. They stopped.

  “Which way is out?” she asked.

  “Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

  Beatrice stopped beside Sophie.

  Sophie looked at Ella and narrowed her eyes. “I believe you inherited your parents’ love of irking people.”

  Ella laughed. “I am a slave to my family bloodline.”

  Sophie tossed her head. “Beatrice and I will find out way out. Come, Beatrice,” she said, and started down the path directly ahead.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sophie had to own that they were hopelessly turned around.

  “Surely we can retrace our steps?” Beatrice asked.

  “We said that five minutes ago,” Sophie said.

  Laughter wafted to them from somewhere to the left.

  “Hello!” Sophie called.

  The laughter quickly grew fainter, and Sophie had the suspicion that Lady Ella had instructed the others not to aid her. Sophie peered through the bushes to the right and glimpsed another pathway on the other side of what had to be at least ten feet of foliage.

  “They must be around here somewhere,” a woman said.

  Lady Ella.

  So, she had finally come in search of her and Beatrice.

  Sophie strained her ears in an effort to discern the direction of Ella’s voice.

  “I had no idea you wanted to meet her,” Lady Ella said.

  “Seems Lord Monthemer is full of surprises these days,” a man said.

  Sophie froze. Lord Monthemer? Here?

  “I will go to the left, you take the right,” the man said.

  Sophie broke from her stupor. She recognized that voice. Lord Blair. So, his matchmaking didn’t end with informing her father that Lord Monthemer wanted to marry her.

  Bootfalls on the gravel walkway approached. They came from up ahead.

  “Should I find her first, I will let her know you are looking for her,” Lady Ella said.

  “I prefer that you don’t, El,” another man said.

  Sophie barely stifled a gasp.

  Adam MacAlister? Yes, she would know his voice anywhere. What was he doing here?

  Ella laughed. “A little wickedness, Adam?”

  “Now off with you, Ella,” Lord Blair said.

  The crunch of gravel grew louder.

  Oh Lord! Sophie spun to face Beatrice and yanked her close. “The Marquess of Monthemer is headed this way—along with Adam MacAlister and Lord Blair.” Sophie ignored Beatrice’s frown. “You must pretend to be me. Do everything you can to discourage the marquess.”

  Beatrice’s eyes widened. “I cannot—”

  “Hush,” Sophie said in a harsh whisper. “Mr. MacAlister is with him. He knows me as—well, you. I cannot be discovered.”

  Sophie’s thoughts skidded to a halt. Oh dear, would Lord Blair recognize Beatrice? Sophie racked her brain. She had never met Lord Blair, had she?

  “Do as I say, Bea.” Before Beatrice could reply, Sophie plunged into the foliage.

  “Miss,” Beatrice called.

  Sophie fought her way through the thick bushes until she reached what she estimated to be about five of the ten feet width of the bushes, then halted, heart thundering in her ears.

  “Oh, how do you do, sir—er, I mean, my lord,” Beatrice said.

  “Miss—”

  “Shaw,” Beatrice said in a shaky voice that Sophie feared would give poor Beatrice away.”

  “Miss Shaw?” Adam MacAlister spoke.

  “Y-yes, sir—my lord.”

  Sophie’s head spun. God help them, they were sure to get caught with Beatrice bumbling things so. How could she help Beatrice?

  By not getting caught.

  Beatrice might be nervous, but she would never betray Sophie by admitting she wasn’t Miss Shaw. That meant, as long as they didn’t discover Sophie’s presence, Lord Monthemer would have to accept that Beatrice was Sophie Shaw.

  Carefully, Sophie eased through the bushes. A branch scraped her leg, and she barely missed another branch that slipped from her grasp and snapped back near her eye. She stifled a cry and finally stepped out onto the path on the other side. She looked down at her dress. One long tear bared her left calf. That must have happened when she plunged into the bushes. Other small tears had left small openings, but she was respectable enough to at least try to reach her carriage. But which way was out?

  Sophie turned and nearly cried out with relief upon seeing the path open onto lawn. She hurried forward and, a moment later, caught sight of the house to the left, beyond the lawn and garden. She couldn’t go through the house. Her torn dress would raise too many questions, and Beatrice and the marquess could show up at any time. She looked to the right and hurried toward the gate at the far end of the garden. That had to be the door for deliveries.

  Ten minutes later, Sophie reached her carriage, which sat parked outside Lady Ella’s house as expected. Sophie opened the carriage door. The driver twisted in his seat and his eyes widened. He leapt from his seat to the ground so quickly that Sophie halted in stepping into the carriage. He hurried to her side.

  “What happened, miss?” He looked around for what she wagered were the people he feared had accosted her.

  “I am fine, Mr. Jones.”

  “But, miss, you are not fine.” His focus locked onto the tear at her calf, then he jerked his gaze up to her face. “Your aunt will be furious, miss.”

  “Never fear, Mr. Jones, I took a tumble into the bushes.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure? If—”

  A door opened, and Sophie didn’t wait to see who was exiting Lady Ella’s house. “I am fine, Mr. Jones.” She nearly jumped into the carriage and pulled the door shut.

  She caught the murmur of voices and a horrible thought struck. What if the marquess insisted on escorting Beatrice to the carriage? Sophie strained to discern the voices but her heart beat s
o hard all she could hear was the blood pounding through her ears. She looked wildly around the inside the carriage as if she could locate some nook in which to hide. She spotted the folded blanket sitting on the opposite cushion. She grabbed it and flung it open, then wrapped it around her shoulders and reached for the door facing the road. Hand on the lever, she jumped when the other door opened. Sophie jerked her head around as Beatrice stepped up into the carriage.

  “Quickly, Mr. Jones,” Beatrice said in a breathless voice.

  Mr. Jones caught Sophie’s gaze, then closed the door. Sophie dropped back onto her seat as Beatrice sat on the opposite side. The vehicle listed slightly as Mr. Jones climbed back into his perch then, an instant later, the carriage lurched into motion.

  “What happened?” Sophie demanded.

  Beatrice exhaled a loud breath. “That Lord Monthemer is a man to be reckoned with.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, I am certain he knows.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He cannot know you are not me. Unless—Lady Ella did not tell him?”

  Beatrice shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “Lady Ella was not there. Another man was there, Nicholas someone or another. But that does not signify. Lord Monthemer stared at me as if he were studying me under a microscope. He knows, I tell you."

  Sophie collapsed back onto the cushion. “Oh, Bea, you goose. He was acting like that because he is trying to decide whether or not he should marry you.” The carriage swayed and she leaned forward again. “Did you make yourself disagreeable?”

  Beatrice stared. “Disagreeable? Why would I do that? All I could think about was getting away from him as quickly as possible.”

  “That is a shame,” Sophie said. “Oh! How did you get away from him?”

  “I told him I needed a moment in the ladies retiring room.”

  Sophie’s mouth fell open. “You mean, he is still waiting for you to return?”

  Beatrice shrugged. “By now, he likely knows I left.”

  “That was terribly rude, Beatrice,” Sophie murmured.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Indeed, I do.” Sophie slapped her leg. “That is wonderful. No man will want to marry a woman who left him waiting with the excuse that she needed to visit the ladies retiring room.”