Now, she understood. They thought she played so poorly that she would need Brandt to make up for her skills. “I am certain we will do fine.”
She would have to be completely blind not to miss the look that passed between the three men. “Er, no doubt,” Sir Preston said.
But they could hardly be blamed. Until a month ago, she had rarely played card games except with her most intimate friends. And even then, she refused to play for stakes. She had not intended to play in Devon at all, but at an assembly a month ago, Sir Preston had noticed her watching one of the games. Assuming her reluctance to play was due to her lack of ability, he offered to instruct her. He had been so kind she could not refuse, nor had she the heart to correct his impression. It was then, as she watched his blunt, kindly face while he explained the rules of commerce, she decided he was exactly the sort of husband she wanted. After that, as he continued to instruct her, his pleasure in her progress had only increased her conviction he was the man she wanted to marry. However, her happiness was marred by knowing she was deceiving him. Worse, she found feigning ignorance increasingly difficult and keeping the competitiveness she so hated in herself at bay.
“Then that is settled.” Brandt picked up the deck. “Whist? Or do you wish something else?”
“Whist, if you please.”
He shoved the cards towards Sir Preston. “Since Sir Preston is seated to my left, he will shuffle the cards and then you will cut them,” he told her.
She bit back the urge to tell him she knew that perfectly well. She cut the cards and then Brandt dealt the hand and turned up the trump. The game began.
It did not take more than a few plays to realise the three men were indulging her, Brandt most of all. When he did not play a card she suspected he had in his hand and let her win a trick, she suddenly was tired of her pretence. On her next play, she won the trick. As she did the next one. Rushton started and glanced at Brandt, his brow raised. And when she took the next trick as well, she could almost feel the atmosphere change. The single-minded concentration she had not felt for an age took over and she forgot everything but wanting to win. She would prove to Brandt she was not the silly chit he thought her.
They played three rounds and, in the end, she and Sir Preston triumphed. She looked at Brandt, taking no pains to hide the elation she felt. “We have five points.”
There was silence. She realised the three men were staring at her. “Indeed you do,” Brandt finally said. She could not read his expression at all.
“Good God!” Rushton exclaimed. “Appears your lessons paid off after all, Kentworth.”
“Brilliant!” Marguerite exclaimed from behind her. “No one ever beats Brandt at whist. Or most other games for that matter.” Startled, Chloe saw Marguerite and several others had gathered around them. She wanted to sink in her chair, but she forced herself to look at Sir Preston who appeared stunned.
“Splendid, Lady Chloe,” Sir Preston said. “Never thought…well, had no idea last time we played.”
“Must have you give me a few pointers, Kentworth,” Squire Heyburn boomed. “Another round, Salcombe? A match between you and Lady Chloe. I, for one, will place my money on Lady Chloe. What else have you been teaching her, Kentworth? Piquet?”
“I do not think…” Chloe began.
“Come, Lady Chloe,” Mr Rushton said. “Just one more hand. Such skill should not be allowed to languish.”
“Although I always find there is a great deal of luck in cards. And some are much more lucky,” Emily Coltrane said with the cool, disapproving stare she always bestowed on Chloe.
Everyone turned to look at Emily whose neck coloured to a dull red. Her brother, Thomas, gave a disgusted snort. “Hold your tongue, Em.”
“Ah, but it depends on whether you know how to take advantage of the opportunity presented to you,” Brandt drawled.
“Most certainly Lady Chloe does,” the Squire boomed. “Come, now, one more game.”
Come, Chloe, just one more game. Suddenly, she was back in the dark, dank study at Braddon Hall, her half-brother, Lucien, smiling at her in his charming way, his voice cajoling, as he urged her to play another hand against one of his half-drunk friends. Refusal was impossible, for then the dazzling smile would disappear from his face, replaced by a cold sneer that frightened her. And so she would play again and again until he sent her back to her bedchamber where she would tumble into bed, only to fall into a sleep filled with nightmarish images.
“Chloe?” Marguerite’s worried voice jerked her out of her trance. Chloe rose, her sense of victory completely vanished. She wanted only to escape. “I would rather not. At least not now. I am certain Emily is quite right. It was only luck.”
“There is one way to find out,” Mr Rushton said. “Be glad to partner you this time.”
“No, I cannot!”
Everyone stared at her, the astonishment on their faces at her outburst making her feel even more wretched.
Brandt stood. “Another time, perhaps. Lady Chloe has promised me a dance.” He turned to her. “I will escort you back to the ballroom.” He held out his arm.
She took it, hardly knowing what she was doing. Marguerite smiled, although her face still held concern. “A splendid idea. I’ve no doubt Chloe would much rather dance than spend the evening in a stuffy card room.”
“Of course, of course,” Squire Heyburn said. “Can play again some other time.”
Chloe nodded and managed a smile. Brandt led her to the ballroom where a country dance was in progress. He released her arm and looked down at her.
“Where did you learn to play cards like that?”
She started. “Sir Preston taught me.” Even to her own ears, she sounded as if she were lying.
“Apparently his skills as an instructor far exceed his skills as a player. I’ve never seen anyone make such progress in so short a time.”
“I was merely lucky tonight.”
“Of course.”
She suspected he did not believe her at all. “I…I have no doubt if I play again I will lose quite badly.”
“You underestimate your ability. You are uncommonly talented.”
“If I am, then it is a talent I would prefer not to have!” she burst out, then wished she had bitten her tongue at his startled expression.
“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” he finally said. “I doubt you are planning to exploit your talents at the gaming tables.”
Her head spun for a moment and she felt almost sick. “No,” she said faintly.
He stared at her. “I did not mean to overset you.”
“I…I am not overset.”
“You look as if you are about to swoon.”
“I am not.”
“You are. Forget the dance. You need to sit down.” Before she could protest, he tucked her arm more firmly through his and guided her through the chaperons clustered along the edge of the room and to a small anteroom off the ballroom. Two very elderly ladies, one of whom appeared to be napping, occupied the two chairs near the mantelpiece, but several vacant chairs lined the adjacent wall. He led her to one of them. “Sit down. I will send Belle to you and then fetch you a lemonade.”
She looked up at his rather grim face. “There is nothing wrong. I…I suddenly felt very warm.”
“Then there is even more reason for you to sit. And if I discover you have moved, I will have no compunction in carrying you to a chair.”
She gasped. “I beg…” But he had already stridden off.
Belle appeared a few minutes later, her face worried. “Chloe, what is wrong? Brandt said you almost swooned in the ballroom.”
“I really did not. He is exaggerating.”
Belle took the chair next to her, her concerned gaze going over Chloe’s face. “What happened?” she asked gently.
“Noth…” she began and then stopped. “Oh, Belle, I did the most dreadful thing. I played a game of whist with Sir Preston and Mr Rushton and Brandt. Sir Preston was my partner and…and we won.”
Belle was silent a moment. “That does not sound so dreadful.”
“It was because I have been pretending I knew nothing about cards and Sir Preston has been instructing me and I never meant anyone to find out. I had not meant to play but Sir Preston invited me and Lady Kentworth insisted that I should so I finally agreed. I could see that Brandt…that is, all of them felt very sorry for me and intended to give me a few hands, which made me angry. Instead of pretending, I…I wanted to prove to them I was not as stupid as they thought after all. And then I was very sorry I had done so. Everyone was astounded and wanted me to play again and I wanted only to escape.”
She took a breath. “After we were back in the ballroom, Brandt asked where I had learned to play cards like that and I told him that Sir Preston had taught me and I could see he did not believe me. He said I was talented and I told him I did not want such a talent and he said that he doubted I would use it at the gaming tables.” She fixed her eyes on Belle’s face. “And tonight, I felt such a desire to win. Just as I did before. I never wanted to feel that way again. Or have everyone stare at me with such astonished expressions and then wager on whether I could win another game.”
“But it wasn’t like before,” Belle said gently. “Lucien was not there to coerce you into one more game and use you for his own means. You were not surrounded by drunken rakes, but by friends who only wished you well.”
“They would not wish me so well if they knew how I have deceived them. And how wicked I have been.”
“Chloe.” Belle took her hand. “You were never wicked. You were very young, only thirteen, hardly more than a child. It was Lucien who was wicked—using you in such a way, taking advantage of your innocence.”
“But I felt what I was doing was wrong—I should have told Papa,” she whispered. Oh, how many times had she thought or said that? Lucien had been forbidden to come to the house, but he came none the less when Papa was away on one of his frequent journeys. Mama could not bear to turn him away and if Chloe whispered a word, Papa would be furious with Mama. So she had said nothing. Mama, often in bed with one of her headaches, had never guessed that Chloe was downstairs with Lucien and his friends.
“But Lucien convinced you he would make it much worse for you if you did. And for Maria. How could you fight against that?” Belle squeezed Chloe’s hand and then looked up. “Brandt is coming with your lemonade. You must put it aside—it is all in the past. Lucien is gone and he cannot hurt you or any of us now.”
“Yes.” Except she very much feared that, after tonight, she would not be able to put her past behind her as she had worked so hard to achieve.
Chapter Two
Brandt stood near the breakfast room window holding his newest cousin in his arms. “Tree,” he said, pointing to an example on the other side of the glass. He had no idea what sort of conversation one made with a five-month old human, although the young Marquis of Wroth did not seem at all dismayed by his efforts. He made a gurgling sound and Brandt looked down to find the child’s solemn unwavering gaze on his face. Was he about to cry? Brandt cleared his throat. “I fear your mama has left you in very inexperienced hands. She should be back shortly. I hope.”
The small mouth suddenly moved. Brandt braced himself for a scream. To his astonishment, he realised his tiny cousin was actually smiling at him. He found his own mouth tentatively curving in response as he stared down at the babe. He gently touched the soft cheek and young Julian gurgled again. A small finger came up to grasp his. Unexpected warmth flowed through Brandt and he suddenly knew exactly why his cousin was so thoroughly in his son’s thrall. Certainly he had seen Julian before at his christening when he had been the child’s godfather, but he had resisted doing more than briefly hold the babe, fearing he would harm such a small and helpless life. Somehow his cousin’s happiness had made him feel left out, but now he was beginning to regret he had stayed away so long.
He heard footsteps. He lifted his head. Expecting Belle, he was startled to see Chloe instead. She looked equally taken aback. Her gaze fell to Julian and her eyes widened in astonishment.
“The Duchess decided I should play nursemaid while she went to confer with Mrs Keith.”
“I see.” Her expression was controlled as it always was around him. She wore a gown of creamy muslin tied with a green sash. Her dark auburn hair was tamed into a knot at the back of her head, but a few tendrils framed her face. She looked fresh and pretty. And completely untouchable. He had no idea why a girl whose smile could hold so much warmth managed, at the same time, to neatly keep any potential suitors at bay. That she disliked him he was well aware of, and, to some extent, he could not blame her, but that she would spurn the advances of other eligible young men puzzled him.
As did her behaviour last night at the card table. Any fool could see she was no novice. Then why go through the pretence of having Kentworth instruct her? Even more puzzling was how horrified she had looked right after she had won, and even more so after he had taken her from the card room. She had appeared much better after he returned with the lemonade, and Belle had said nothing more than that Chloe had become overheated and that, after her illness, she was still inclined to fatigue. Nothing had been said about cards, so perhaps her reaction had been only in his imagination after all.
Julian struggled in his arms. He looked down and saw the babe was reaching towards Chloe. “I think he wants you.” He cast a doubtful look at her gown. “If you want him.”
“Of course.” She stepped closer to him, held out her arms and took the infant. The babe snuggled against her and then turned his head to look back at Brandt. He offered Brandt another tentative smile. Chloe glanced down at the child, her expression softening, and then back up at Brandt. “He likes you.”
“I would hope so since we are related.”
“I doubt that is the only reason.”
“And what other reason might there be?”
“I…” She looked flustered. “You are…are kind.”
“Ah. A compliment from your lips. I shall treasure it.”
Colour flooded her cheeks. “There is no need to be so sardonic.” Her face closed again and she looked quickly down at the child.
He bit back a curse. He had no idea why he was so boorish around her. “I beg your pardon.” He picked up the silver pot from the table. “Will you take tea or coffee? Or chocolate.”
“I always take tea.” She looked flustered again. “You do not need to pour me anything.”
“But you are occupied, so it is the least I can do.” He poured the tea into one of the china cups. “Sit down. How much sugar?”
Still looking taken aback, she sat in the nearest chair. Julian promptly picked up a spoon. “Two, if you please.” She watched Brandt spoon the sugar into the cup. Almost as soon as he set the tea in front of her Julian reached for it. Chloe pulled the child back just before he grasped his object. The spoon fell from his hand and he started to cry.
Brandt stared at him, completely at sea. “Should I find Belle?”
“No. Pick up the spoon.” She stood and started to gently bounce the child, speaking to him in soft tones.
Brandt retrieved the spoon from under the chair. He held it out to Julian, who had stopped crying. Instead of taking the spoon, he sniffed and held out his arms to Brandt.
“He wants you again,” Chloe said.
“I’ve no idea why. He would do much better to stay with you. What if he starts to cry again?”
Julian wriggled and reached towards Brandt. He made a little sound of protest. Chloe smiled at the child and then looked back at Brandt. “He will probably start to cry if you do not take him. Here…” she held Julian out “…you were doing very well when I came in.”
Once again he found himself holding a chubby, pink-cheeked bundle who fixed him with a dazzling smile. It occurred to Brandt that he could not recall the last time someone had smiled at him with such pure, joyous pleasure at merely being in his presence. He smiled back at the babe
with the oddest sensation he would never be the same again.
“See, there was nothing to be afraid of.”
He looked up at Chloe and found her watching him. Even more amazing, she actually smiled at him. For the second time in the space of a minute, he nearly reeled. “No. He is…is charming.” That seemed completely inadequate.
“He is.” She was still smiling, the warm smile he’d only seen once or twice, the smile that lit up her face and rendered her incredibly lovely.
He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Her smile faded as she took in his expression. Julian started to wriggle and make happy, impatient noises. When Brandt tore his gaze from Chloe he saw why. Justin and Belle had just entered the room.
The Duke of Westmore stopped. “You look amazingly domestic. I feared I might find you cowering in the corner when Belle told me she had left Julian with you.”
“Fortunately Chloe came shortly after Belle departed and rescued me.”
“He really did not need to be rescued,” Chloe said.
He glanced at her, surprised at her defence of him, but her expression had reverted back to the same guarded one she always wore.
Julian squealed again and held his arms out towards his father. Justin’s dark face broke into a smile as he took his son. He planted a brief kiss on the child’s head and then looked at his wife. She met his eyes, a little smile on her face. For a moment, the three of them existed in a timeless bond that excluded the rest of the world.
Longing shot through Brandt, swift and hard. He forced his eyes away only to meet Chloe’s. Their gazes locked and for an instant he saw the same yearning reflected in her face and he knew she read his mind as clearly as he read hers. She quickly looked away.
He pulled his gaze away as well, disconcerted by the connection between them. He wanted to escape. “Now that you no longer need my services as nursemaid, I will take my leave. Carlton has the final papers ready for me to sign.”
“Then it is not yet too late for you to change your mind,” Justin said.
The Viscount's Bride Page 2