He climbed the stairs as a morose sense of inevitability gripped him. He was out of practice with polite conversation, if he’d ever indulged in the feat at all. Out of his depth. He needed help from someone without malice or a hidden agenda. He could ask Blythe to help him tonight. She surely wouldn’t want her sister made uncomfortable by his mistakes.
His boots made no noise as he strode along the corridor leading to his bedchamber. The carpets were so thick in this part of the house that he didn’t need to make the effort to be silent at all. And that was why he was able to approach the unmoving figure ahead of him, the one lingering outside Blythe’s doorway, without being detected.
He set his hand to Wilcox’s shoulder. “Lost, are you?”
Wilcox jumped out of his skin, set one hand to his chest as he gasped. “Don’t do that ever again, young man. You frightened me to death.”
Tobias raised a brow. He’d shocked Wilcox completely for him to speak so out of character. Or was he behaving in character at last?
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing, lingering outside the countess’ bedchamber?”
The butler’s expression grew sly. “Her Grace asked me to determine how clearly sound traveled from the guest chamber you occupy to the hallway, and to the rooms on either side.”
Tobias glanced at his doorway. No light shone beneath his door. “But no one should be in there so there is nothing to hear.”
“I know that now. But since the countess has returned so unexpectedly, I was using her presence as a test.”
“And what were your findings?”
Wilcox scowled. “I could not hear her, or she speaks very softly.”
“Good, because from where I’m standing, you, sir, are spying on a lady in a most disturbing way. Do it again and I’ll speak to Her Grace about the matter.”
Wilcox spluttered. “I did no such thing. I heard nothing.”
“Be that as it may, you should not be here. Go about your usual duties.”
Wilcox’s skin darkened to a deep red. After a long pause, he stormed off.
Tobias tapped on Blythe’s door. “May I have a word, Lady Venables?”
The door creaked open and light steamed out into the hall. When his eyes adjusted to the greater illumination, he caught a glimpse of Blythe’s face through the gap.
“What do you want now, Mr. Randall?”
“We need to speak privately. Tonight. I’ve just caught Wilcox listening at your door.”
Blythe struck her head further out into the hall and he caught a glimpse of what she was wearing. Color. No black or dark shade, but a pretty blue gown he’d never seen on her before tonight. Instead of the usual buttoned up attire, Blythe was dressed for a ball. Was this what she’d be wearing tomorrow night?
She frowned. “What exactly was he doing?”
He moved toward her door, drinking in the beauty of her pale throat and the brief glimpse of creamy smooth curve of breast above the cut of the fabric. Mercy was right to be concerned about Blythe’s sudden change of heart, but what a change it was. “Come to my room tonight and I’ll explain everything.”
Her expression grew wary. “We can talk now.”
“There is another matter I also wish to discuss. I don’t wish to be overheard.”
After a time, she nodded slowly. “Very well.”
Then she ducked back inside and locked the door. Tobias’ pulse raced. If she wore a gown like that tonight he would have a hard time keeping his eyes, and hands, still. He could remember every detail of their previous encounters. Her quick breath across his cheek, her body pressed against him. The taste of her lips.
He glanced down at the unfortunate tenting of his breeches. That had to go before he could return below. He shook his head. Miss Trimble was the better choice of the pair for a wife, with her four thousand and sweeter temperament. He stepped into his bedchamber and flung his wardrobe doors wide. He wished the task of choosing a replacement waistcoat could be a better distraction from the temptation that glimpse of Blythe’s skin offered. He’d need all the help he could muster to get through the evening.
Twelve
The discomfort of being stared at by the most severe members of the ton was nothing compared to the scrutiny inflicted by the casual sideways glances bestowed by Tobias Randall. Blythe shifted in her seat yet again. She was tired from her long day and found no enjoyment from the constant questioning looks he sent her way. Had he glimpsed her in a colored gown earlier? She’d brought a few of her older gowns from Walden Hall with her tonight, just to try out the idea of wearing them again. Yet she wasn’t sure she could.
“I trust all is well at Walden Hall,” Mercy said.
Blythe set her fork down and gave her sister her full attention. “Yes. Everything is done and Venables can have no cause for complaint. Finch will manage everything in my absence.”
Mercy patted her lips with her napkin and pushed her dessert away uneaten. “I feared you would stay on to welcome him.”
Blythe eyed the unfinished plate. Her sister usually had a steady appetite. It wasn’t like Mercy to watch her figure. “Venables has no need of me.”
Mercy stretched to pat her hand. “I wish he was a nicer person for your sake. At least now I’m spared the need to call at Walden Hall just to see you.”
“I am, too.”
Tobias bumped her foot under the table, as if to remind her that he’d told her Mercy would want her here. Annoying man. Up until now she was feeling charitable toward him. She ignored him and continued to eat her dessert, keeping up her end of the conversation when required. When the meal ended, she would slip away and leave them alone. Yet her heart raced that she’d promised to go to Tobias’ room later tonight. She hoped he didn’t have the wrong idea of why she would be there.
“Gentlemen,” Mercy said warmly when Blythe set down her silver. “We shall await you in the billiard room. I know how you both enjoy your games.”
Leopold laughed. “He thinks to best me tonight.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t been letting you win,” Tobias retorted with a quick grin. “Age before beauty and all that.”
Blythe pressed her lips together to hide her amusement at their competitiveness. Tobias was quite fond of teasing his elder brother and Leopold never failed to rise and take the bait.
She followed Mercy out, listening to the brother’s bicker with half an ear, and strolled along to the billiard room. When the door shut behind them, Mercy sagged against the wall.
Startled, Blythe returned to her. “What is it?”
Mercy waved her hand before her face. “I suddenly feel overcome.”
Blythe slipped an arm around her back and led Mercy to a nearby chair. “How long have you felt this way?”
She swallowed and made a face. “Just now, at dinner.”
Blythe counted back swiftly. Leopold Randall had been at Romsey Abbey for over a month. Long enough, perhaps, to make a fast marriage absolutely necessary. “What if?”
“It cannot be what you’re thinking,” Mercy murmured as she reclined on a lounge at Blythe’s prompting. “My courses have not altered.”
Blythe withdrew her handkerchief from her pocket and mopped Mercy’s face.
“I’ll be all right when I catch my breath. Don’t fret.”
“It isn’t like you to be ill, Mercy. How can I not be worried?”
Mercy smiled. “You always worry about everyone else, but I am sure it will amount to nothing. The discomfort has passed.”
Blythe regarded her sister. The spark had gone from her eyes. She captured her wrist, searching for Mercy’s pulse, and found it beating strongly. “Perhaps you should retire early.”
Mercy shook her head. “I cannot disappoint Tobias. Leopold is much caught up by the estate business and I fear he has neglected his brother this past week because of me. The pair have been planning tonight’s match for days.” A brief glimmer of excitement lit Mercy’s face, but it soon drained away. She pressed her hand to her stomac
h as if she might be ill.
Blythe looked about desperately. She grabbed a blanket to capture any indiscretion Mercy might make. As she laid it over Mercy’s lap, the door opened behind her.
“Here we are,” Leopold said. “Now. What the devil are you doing?”
“She feels ill, Leo,” Blythe warned him.
Leopold rushed forward, clasped Mercy’s hands, and pressed them to his lips. “My love?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mercy assured him. “I just suddenly felt a little ill.”
Blythe moved back as Leopold fussed, shifting the blanket, fetching a glass of water for her to sip. He really did care. Raphael had reacted exactly the same when Blythe had felt unwell during their marriage. But Mercy insisted she couldn’t be with child then there had to be some other explanation.
Tobias joined her. “What can I do?”
“Nothing I imagine, except to keep your brother calm.”
“Easier said than done,” he muttered as he stepped forward. “Would she be more comfortable upstairs?”
“No,” Mercy grabbed Leopold’s arm. “I’m well enough to watch you play your game.”
Leopold glanced at his brother, a plea in his gaze.
Beside her, Tobias sighed. “The game isn’t as important as her health. Take her up to bed, brother. We can play against each other another night.”
Mercy shifted. “Thank you, Tobias. Perhaps I should have an early night. I am sorry but you must entertain each other this evening.”
A blush heated Blythe’s cheeks at how Tobias might like to be entertained, but she managed to murmur her agreement.
“Thank you.” Leopold quickly scooped Mercy up into his arms and hurried out of the room, shouting orders as he went.
After a moment, Tobias smirked. “He should have had a title.”
Blythe settled against the billiard table. “He does excel at giving orders. He would have made a good duke,” she conceded.
“He’s always been that way. Father was often busy elsewhere and he relied on Leopold to keep us in line. At times, I swear Leopold forgets I’m fully grown.”
She smiled. “Your behavior does seem to prey heavily on his mind.”
“Hmm, if only he knew the worst of it.” Tobias laughed, his eyes lighting up with amusement.
Their eyes met and held. Was he thinking of their kiss, and the near kiss by the stream? She swallowed nervously. They were alone once more. “You said you wanted to speak with me tonight? Perhaps now would be a good time.”
A brief look of disappointment flashed in his eyes. But then he shrugged. “I am concerned about tomorrow night’s soiree.”
“We may not attend if Mercy remains indisposed.”
He glanced toward the door, brow creasing. “You don’t think she’s with child already, do you?”
“Mercy is certain she couldn’t be increasing.” However, it may only be a matter of time since the pair already shared her sister’s bedchamber. “Not yet, in any case.”
Tobias set his hands to the billiard table. “About the soiree, then. Assuming we go, I wonder if you might offer me some advice.”
“On what?”
He grinned. “On how to behave?”
Ah, the proprieties must baffle him after so long away. “Just do what your brother has suggested. Talk of pleasantries. Keep your hands from straying while dancing. Although your brother and my sister are terribly familiar here at Romsey, they will behave very differently in public. Or at least I hope so.” Blythe chuckled. “Kissing is a private matter and to do so in public will incite the most vulgar sort of gossip. Not even a married man may kiss his wife without society going up in flames.”
“And dancing. Must I dance every dance?”
Blythe frowned. “You did secure a dance with Miss Trimble.”
“I know that. However, I believe your sister is planning to try her hand at matchmaking me. I’m not keen to comply with her wishes. Who knows what sort of woman she’d throw at me.”
Goodness. Mercy had not shared that tidbit. Who could Mercy possibly have in mind? She doubted many young women would be ready for a man of Tobias’ substance. “No man is at first, but my sister does have a way of getting what she wants eventually so be warned. Dance with a few ladies to appease her, but I’m sure you can avoid dancing every dance. Most gentlemen find a way into the card room to avoid demands on their time.”
“Will you dance with me?”
Blythe shook her head. “I haven’t danced in years.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Oh dear. That could be a problem. Did you dance much before you left England?”
“Frequently, but never in public. I was forced into the worst sort of torture as my sister’s dance partner. You’ve heard of Rose’s nature. Can you imagine a worse fate?”
Blythe chuckled at the image his words evoked. “You poor fellow.”
Tobias slapped the tabletop. “At last, a little sympathy for my lot in life. Leopold never had to dance with her. He always managed to be busy elsewhere when a partner was called for.”
Blythe laughed at the idea of a young Leopold dancing with a little sister. Rosemary was sounding more and more like a woman she wanted to get to know. She hoped they met one day. Her smile faltered. “There is no reason you’d need to dance with everybody. Just smile and be civil, fetch punch if the opportunity arises, and try not to offend ladies with delicate sensibilities.”
“I’ll do my best to curb my tongue.”
Their eyes met and a little thrill of excitement swept her skin. He was standing close enough for her to see the widening of his eyes and then the slow shift of his attention to her lips and back again. It was disconcerting to be attracted to him. They were poles apart in circumstance and nature. He was everything she shouldn’t desire but oddly did.
She licked her lips nervously. “I’m sure you will. Was that the whole of your questions?”
“No, but to voice any further queries would be indelicate. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable. I’ll ask the rest another night.”
He moved his hand until it rested against her side. Slowly, painfully slowly, he shifted it until he held her arm. Blythe’s breath caught, and she couldn’t seem to catch it again as he slid his fingers down over her glove to capture her fingers in his.
His grip firmed. “Breathe.”
Blythe dragged in a large breath, appalled by the effect his nearness had on her.
He shifted and his breath skimmed her ear. When she turned her head, his lips bumped her skin. Blythe lifted her chin.
Tobias’ lips crashed against hers, smothering the small whimper that escaped her control. But she wasn’t protesting his kiss, only her response to it. She was mad to kiss him back, but she opened her mouth willingly and let his tongue invade. While they kissed, she was aware that he held her lightly. One hand held hers, the other rested against the small of her back, gently stroking her body. She could move away at any moment. He hadn’t trapped her, but she was powerless to move.
Blythe lifted her hand to his chest. So warm and vital. So different from her late husband. She had no doubts about what Tobias wanted from her, but she didn’t think she could go through with it. He might think her a tease, but she pushed against him.
The kiss softened, and then stopped altogether. His lips hovered above hers, an inch apart, his breath harsh across her tender skin. He didn’t protest the end of their kiss; he didn’t rush to apologize either.
Blythe lifted her lids slowly. Tobias studied her, his amber eyes bright with excitement, his lips parted as he breathed. She bit her lower lip, suddenly ashamed of herself. She’d never been a tease, but there was no future with him.
“Play billiards with me,” he whispered.
“Ladies do not.” Blythe swallowed. Ladies also did not allow gentlemen to kiss them witless either. She glanced toward the door. It had been left wide open after Leopold had carried Mercy out. Any one of the servants could have seen her in T
obias’ arms.
“Just one game. I’m sure if your husband had had any sense then he would have indulged you.” His grip tightened, reminding her they were still holding hands. If he lowered his head again, he could kiss her in an instant.
Her heart raced. “Not often.”
“Then play against me. I promise to play fairly. I won’t let you win just because you’re a lady.”
Blythe frowned. “I think he did let me win unfairly once or twice.”
Tobias’ lips brushed her skin again in a soft caress that added to her confusion. “A fair game?”
She looked up. “A fair game.”
Tobias grinned, and then swung away to collect cues and arrange the billiard balls on the table while she hunted for her scattered wits. What had come over her to behave in such a way? She pressed her hands to her cheeks.
When he returned, his expression held no hint of wickedness; just his usual impertinent smile. He held up a penny. “Heads or tails?”
“Tails.”
Tobias flicked the coin into the air, caught it and then slapped it onto the back of his hand. When he uncovered it, tails was visible. She’d won the toss.
Tobias moved back from the table with an exaggerated bow.
~ * ~
In the heat of battle, no matter how certain the outcome, a man must keep his wits about him. Tobias had no need to let Blythe win at billiards because he would surely lose. Billiards was not his game, not yet at any rate. He was still learning the art under his brother’s tuition. But in matters of desire, he was not prepared to accept defeat as easily. The game he played with Blythe was not one to rush, no matter how good she tasted.
Blythe lined up to take her shot, leaning over the table slightly. The position did nothing to dampen his arousal. His gaze caught on her rear, more defined because she’d stretched over the table, and stayed.
Damn but she was a tempting wench.
She took her shot, balls cracked against one another and he quickly looked at the table. She’d sunk a ball with her first shot, and had another to take. His breath caught as she lined up for her next. She faced him, teeth clamped over her lower lip, focused on her goal and oblivious to everything.
Forsaking the Prize Page 11