Gambling on a Scoundrel

by Sheridan Jeane

  "It never entered my mind."

  "Which says a great deal."

  Tempy lurched to her feet, bumping her knees against the low table as she did so and causing the tea tray to clatter. "Well, it's entered my mind now," she said. "I believe a kiss should be my litmus test."

  Millicent shook her head. "Can't you simply let him go?"

  "Let him go?" she repeated. "Why can't you understand? If I let him go, I'll be alone. I won't just lose him, I'll lose my family. I'll have no one left."

  "You'll have me," Millicent said, rising to her feet. "You know I'll always be here for you."

  Tempy closed her eyes and shook her head, and then she met Millicent's gaze. "If you really want to be here for me, then please support me in this. I need you, Millicent."

  Millicent's shoulders sagged. "I'll always support you. Even when I don't agree with you."

  "Thank you. That means everything to me." She reached out a hand and took Millicent's. "Come on. Let's go to the Royal Gallery. I think it will do us both some good to have an outing. And on the way, you can listen while I tell you about my article. I could use your advice regarding that as well."

  17 - A Well-Timed Spot of Trouble

  Lucien prowled the floor of his vacant casino, clutching a letter in his hand as he listened for Tempy's arrival. Many matters weighed heavily upon him today, but until he could see Tempy for himself and read her response to last night's events, he couldn't focus his attention on anything but her. He'd come to expect punctuality in her regular visits with Mme Le Clair, but even so, he let out a sigh of relief when Tempy arrived promptly for her scheduled appointment.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to another so his movement would catch her eye even though he stood on the far side of the large casino floor. If she wanted to speak with him, it would be easy enough for her to do so, but if she didn't, then he'd keep his distance.

  Her gaze immediately flicked toward him, but then her eyes widened and she hurriedly looked away as a bright pink wash of color suffused her cheeks. Even from this distance, it was impossible not to see her mortification. She spun away, providing him with an excellent view of her back. Her spine stiffened so that it became ramrod straight, and then she rushed past the doorway, heading toward his office and her meeting with Mme Le Clair.

  A sharp pang of disappointment pierced Lucien as he dropped his chin. Would anything take place during Tempy's lesson with Mme Le Clair to alleviate her embarrassment?

  Perhaps, but unlikely.

  He sighed and looked again at the letter still clutched in his hand. Leaving now felt like cowardice, but he had little choice in the matter. This summons saw to that. Perhaps spending some time away from Tempy would help ease her discomfiture. He could only hope it would. He didn't want to think about her reaction to their kiss right now. The inadvertent pain she'd caused him was too raw, too new.

  With a sense of resignation and perhaps a bit of relief, Lucien turned to the task of making arrangements for a short and inconvenient trip to Porlock, a town a few hours outside Bath. He'd be damned if he'd stay there one minute longer than necessary. But he'd be double-damned if he'd give Formsworth the satisfaction of knowing the inconvenience he'd caused.

  One of the estates Lucien had inherited, the one in Somerset, had been his grandfather's favorite, and now it was the focus of a land dispute with his neighbor, Squire Formsworth, a despicable man. Lucien had hoped his estate manager would be able to resolve the conflict so that Lucien wouldn't even need to speak to Formsworth, let alone breathe the same air as him, but negotiations had rapidly deteriorated and now Lucien's presence was required in court.

  Marcus Formsworth must have realized that Lucien had inherited the land. Why else would he have chosen this moment to press a lawsuit?

  Despite himself, Lucien's thoughts scurried back to the moment when Tempy saw him across the casino and blushed with shame. The pain her natural response had inflicted upon him now seemed to be settling more deeply in his heart. How much of her reaction came from a sense of shame at kissing the owner of a casino? He knew he was the sort of man from whom most respectable fathers would hide their daughters. According to what Millicent had said at the tea room, even Tempy's rather negligent father had been no different.

  The letter in Lucien's hand crackled as he clenched his fist, drawing his attention back to the missive. Despite his animosity toward Squire Formsworth, at least one good thing would come of this dreaded visit to Porlock. He'd be able to avoid seeing that look of shame on Miss Bliss's face for a few days. Perhaps by the time he returned, she'd have more control over her emotions.

  Lucien spotted Boothby, and waved the man over to him. "I'd like you to join me on a trip to Bath and then on to my grandfather's estate near Porlock." He paused and pressed his lips together. "My estate," he corrected. "My valet hasn't been well for a while, and I need someone to accompany me in his place. You're the perfect choice, since you have a knack for picking up useful bits of information. I need to know how things stand in my households, and I'll depend on you to see what you can learn from the other servants while we're there."

  Boothby's eyes lit up. "Most certainly, sir. I'd be honored. How soon do you plan to leave?"

  "Later this afternoon. I'll take the four o'clock train. Stop at my residence and pack my things for me. I plan to be gone for three or four days." He paused, eyeing the young man thoughtfully. After all, Boothby had never performed this task before. "Make sure you include day clothes, riding attire, and something appropriate for the evening. And don't forget my toiletries."

  "Yes, sir," Boothby replied, his gap-toothed grin revealing his enthusiasm for the trip. "And may I say, I think this is an excellent plan. Just the thing." Then he turned and hurried away.

  Lucien furrowed his brow as he watched the young man leave. Did Boothby know more about Lucien's personal life than he'd realized? He shook his head in a bemused manner. That young man was more well-informed than an oddsmaker at a racetrack.

  Lucien needed to send a couple of letters, but since his office was occupied, he'd need to find another location where he could write them. In the past he'd always felt free to use his desk in the office during Tempy's lessons, but today he wanted to avoid going in there.

  He headed toward the cashiers' office, pulling his key from his pocket. Once inside, he quickly found a stack of paper. He sat and jotted notes to John Snowden and a couple of regular casino guests, informing them of his planned absence over the next three days. After addressing them, he exited the caged area and waved over one of the footmen.

  Lucien didn't recognize the young man. He must be new. All these footmen tended to look alike after a while. This one fitted the basic physical requirements of the job: tall, slim, young, and fairly good looking. "Make sure these go out immediately," he told the dark-haired young man. "What's your name?"

  "Tines, sir." The young man rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, obviously eager to please.

  "Take these to the post office," Lucien said. "I want them delivered as quickly as possible." He pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them to the young man. "This should cover the postage."

  "I could deliver them myself, if you prefer."

  "Don't be daft," Lucien said, surprised by the suggestion. "Look at those addresses. Do you want to run all over London? The post office will deliver them much more quickly than you could."

  The young man's face reddened and he glanced at the envelopes. He held them upside down as he pretended to read the addresses and then nodded. "Oh, yes. I see, sir."

  Lucien closed his eyes for a moment as he mentally berated himself for his own insensitivity. It was obvious Tines couldn't read, and Lucien had just embarrassed him about the fact by calling him daft. "No. No need to apologize." He didn't embarrass the young man by commenting on his reading deficit, but instead made a mental note to discuss the problem with Boothby. Between them, they'd find a way to help the footman learn the needed skill without e
mbarrassing him. "Thank you, Tines," his said.

  The young man took his words as a dismissal, and with a dip of his head, he hurried off with the letters.

  Lucien kept checking the clock as he quickly discussed the menu offerings for the next few evenings with the chef, and then he headed back to the spot on the casino floor where he'd stood an hour ago when he'd watched Tempy arrive.

  He both dreaded and craved seeing her again. What if she couldn't meet his gaze? Then again, what if she did? He couldn't make himself stay away from her, no matter what the risk. If she wanted to speak with him, then he'd offer her the opportunity to do so.

  He heard the click of his office door as it opened and busied himself with sorting through a sheaf of papers he'd brought along as a prop. After all, he couldn't just stand there looking like a wayward schoolboy who was waiting for the headmaster to haul him into his office.

  Heels clattered on the marble floor and then the two women appeared at the doorway. Tempy glanced toward him, apparently looking for him, because this time she didn't turn away, but met his gaze. As she crossed the casino floor toward him wearing a self-deprecating smile, the sense of rejection that had been suffocating him evaporated. Even that fact that Mme Le Clair trailed behind her did little to diminish Lucien's elation.

  "Good day, ladies," he said, tipping his head to them both. "I hope you had a productive morning."

  "Yes," Tempy said, still watching him.

  "More productive than you might think," Mme Le Clair added. "I understand that you'll be leaving today to visit Bath. Your timing couldn't be more perfect."

  Had Boothby told her? Lucien raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

  "It has come to our attention that Mr. Lipscomb and his young fiancée will also be leaving for Bath today, in the company of her parents. Apparently he wants her to enjoy some of the pleasures of England during her visit. Tempy and I have taken the liberty of sending a message to your mutual acquaintance, Mrs. Millicent Kidman, to ask her to accompany Tempy as her chaperone for the trip."

  "Chaperone?" Lucien parroted the word. What on earth was Madame talking about? "Why does Tempy need a chaperone?"

  "How else could she accompany you to Bath? It would be quite improper otherwise." Mme Le Clair looked at him as though she thought him rather slow-witted. "If Mrs. Kidman agrees, she'll make the perfect escort. She knows you both and is aware of the predicament Mr. Lipscomb has created."

  "I'm certain she'll want to help. She'll see it as a lark." Tempy said. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement at the prospect of the trip, but she glanced away shyly. "I've always wanted to visit Bath. Father was always working and didn't have time to take me there."

  "Didn't he ever take a holiday?"

  Tempy shook her head. "He didn't believe in such extravagances. He always said," she paused to raise one finger in a dramatic gesture, and her voice dropped to mimic a man's voice, "'work is the foundation of society'." She dropped her pose and one corner of her mouth turned upward as though she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to smile. When she opened her mouth again, her normal, feminine tones emerged. "But I'm certain even he would have approved of this trip, given the circumstances." She bounced slightly on her toes.

  Poor little rich girl. She'd never even been to Bath? Lucien wished the excitement in her eyes was for him, rather than for the opportunity to chase down that dolt, Ernest, but how could he turn her down? How could he extinguish that spark? And how could he refuse her request to travel with him? "It sounds like an excellent strategy. And while you're doing whatever it is you propose to do to further your plan with your sweetheart," he said, trying not to overly stress the distasteful word, "I will do what I can to help distract his new fiancée."

  Tempy's smile faltered, and she finally looked at him. "Distract her? How?"

  Was that a spark of irritation he detected? Something within him crowed at seeing it. "I don't know her well enough yet, but perhaps I can help drive a wedge between them. It will depend on how the hand plays out. We shall see."

  Mme Le Clair's gaze darted back and forth between them, and then she stared at Lucien as she narrowed her eyes in dawning comprehension. "Yes, I believe we shall."

  Mme Le Clair shifted her feet so she faced Lucien, and it was as though she pinned him in place with her gaze. What did she want? "I'd like a private word with you."

  Lucien wanted to say no, but with a sigh of resignation, he watched Tempy walk away. He turned his attention back to Mme Le Clair.

  "What's going on between you and Temperance? Don't bother to deny it. I know you too well. It's obvious you're smitten with her."

  "You're imagining things. And even if I were smitten, as you say, what difference would it make? She's in love with Ernest."

  "No, she isn't. She's simply afraid to be alone."

  "And she's chosen him, along with his entire family, to be her companion in life."

  "For now."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She waived her hand in dismissal. "Nothing. I'm allowing myself to be sidetracked. That's not what I wanted to discuss with you." Her normally smooth forehead showed signs of worry. "Are you certain that Boothby is the best person to take with you, considering your destination?"

  "What do you mean? He's perfect."

  "I'm worried that he might come in contact with his father."

  "Would that be so bad?" Lucien asked, but then paused. "What are you saying? You did tell him who his father is, didn't you?"

  She pressed her lips together for a moment, as though she didn't want to answer him, and then she let out a frustrated sigh. "I never thought it was necessary. It's not as though the man ever comes to London. I thought they'd never lay eyes on one another."

  "But Boothby has a right to know," Lucien insisted.

  "A right? Who has a right? The father who denied his son, or the boy who I tried to protect from that humiliation? Where is the 'right' that makes that knowledge of any benefit to Marcus?"

  "Considering he was named for his father, I think his mother must have had a different opinion."

  She shook her head in denial. "She only named him that in the hope that his father would accept him. But it didn't work." She looked down at her clenched hands. "I can only wonder how many more sons named 'Marcus' the man has discarded over the years."

  "Boothby has a right to know."

  "Fine. But I want to be the one who tells him. As his mother's closest friend, it's my obligation, not yours."

  Lucien shook his head. "He's not here right now, and I don't think this can wait. I can tell him."

  "I'll do everything I can to make sure I tell him before he leaves, but you must promise me that you won't tell him. This is important. It needs to come from me."

  Lucien sighed. "Fine. I won't tell him. But you must talk to him today."

  She nodded. "Yes. It's for the best."

  18 - Bath

  Something interrupted Tempy's snooze, and she sat with her eyes closed for a moment, wondering what had awakened her. It didn't take her long to realize that the train was slowing. She opened her eyes and blinked against the sunlight streaming through the train window as she leaned forward to look outside.

  The Georgian facades of buildings seemed to roll past, but, of course, it was she who was moving, not the buildings. Each building had its own symmetry and balance and Tempy found their order to be soothing, especially when compared to the more riotous architecture of London.

  She could feel the rattle of the car continue to slow as they lost speed. They'd stop soon, and she'd finally be in Bath.

  She glanced at her traveling companions. They were waking up as well. All except for Lucien, who appeared completely alert. He gathered together some papers and ledgers and slid them into a satchel.

  The train lurched to a stop at the platform. Once she was certain that it wouldn't jerk forward again, she rose to her feet. When she glanced at Lucien, he looked away.

  That ki
ss had changed things. She wanted to go back to the comfortable camaraderie they'd developed over the past week, but didn't know how.

  Lucien lifted his arm toward the door of the compartment, ushering Tempy and Millicent ahead of him. Her skirts brushed against the sides of the narrow, paneled corridor as she moved toward the exit.

  The train was high above the platform, and Tempy grabbed hold of the handrail as she negotiated the steep steps leading from the train car. A uniformed porter assisted her as she stepped off the last tread, smiling and nodding as he welcomed her to Bath.

  Tempy looked at the faces of the men around her, wondering if Mr. Byrd had followed her here to Bath. She recognized some of them as being fellow passengers, but none of them paid her any particular attention. A moment later she gave up. She was no good at this sort of thing. How could she expect herself to spot one unknown man in this throng?

  She spotted Boothby and her maid, Mary, hurrying toward them through the press of passengers. Once they were all together, Lucien led the way toward the front of the station.

  After only a few moments, Boothby procured a hackney and a wagon. He supervised as their bags were loaded into the wagon, and Lucien led Tempy and Millicent toward the waiting hackney.

  It was at that moment that Tempy realized that she didn't know where they were going. "I never asked, but where will we be staying tonight?"

  "I have a house at the top of the hill." Lucien tilted his head back as he walked and looked up at the sky. Could he be searching for signs of rain in the cloudless sky, or was he simply trying to avoid looking at her? "We'll stay there tonight," he continued, "and tomorrow we'll leave for Exmoor. It's at the opposite end of Somerset, so it will take us some time to reach it. I have an estate there with a problem that needs sorting out."

  Tempy's steps faltered. "I had no idea you owned so much property."