The Groom's Gamble

by Jade Lee

  “What is it?” he asked. Then when she lifted his hands to the light, he chuckled. “Oh that. It’s nothing, I assure you.” Then he sobered. “I only wish I had done it quicker or arrived sooner. When I think of what might have happened…”

  She straightened, pressing her fingers to his lips. She felt the curve of his lips and the moist heat of his breath as it caressed her palm. It had been familiar enough just to touch his hand, but now her heart stuttered, and her belly went liquid.

  “I am fine,” she whispered. “You saved me.”

  His mouth twisted beneath her fingers, and he drew back. Then he caught her hands in his. “I rather think it was Sophie who saved you. I would not have run upstairs had it not been for her barking.”

  She shook her head. “It was you.” And when he raised his brows, she shrugged. “It was both of you.”

  “It should never have happened,” he said, his expression suddenly dark and intense. Then abruptly, he squeezed her fingers. “No more speaking, Mrs. Lyncott. There isn’t time.” They could hear the tread of someone coming up the stairs. “After you are better, I should like it if you came to speak with me.”

  She looked into his eyes and felt her heart sink to her feet. He was waiting until she was better, of course, but she could read the determination in his dark, angry eyes. He blamed her—in a small part—for the events of this evening. After all, they all knew his lordship’s opinion of the gypsies. Any decent housekeeper would have either found a way to prevent those men from coming here or gotten him word of Lady Anne’s intentions. She had done neither, so she would likely be expelled from the household.

  Fighting the lump in her throat, she nodded slowly. “Of course, but if I am to be let go, perhaps you had best tell me now.”

  His expression shifted, and she saw raging emotions on his normally impassive face. Anger, frustration, and horror flashed across his face but centered on his mouth. His lips thinned before he gave a heavy sigh.

  “Mrs. Lyncott, why would you allow Lady Anne to bring those men here? I believe I made my opinion of the gypsies quite clear some time ago.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. Did he not understand anything about his sister? “I did not know about the event before yesterday—”

  “Yesterday!”

  “And it is because of me that she brought them here. She intended to meet at his vardo or campfire or whatever she called it.”

  His brows drew downward in fury. “The devil you say!”

  She returned his look measure for measure. He was furious, but now that her terror was fading, she had her own fair share of anger. How dare he take her to task for this evening’s debacle? Did he not see that no woman could preserve order in this house?

  He must have seen the determination on her face. Either that, or realized the stupidity of dismissing a woman an hour after she’d been attacked. He rubbed a hand over his face and stifled a curse. “It is not the time to discuss this.”

  “If I am to be dismissed—”

  He held up his hand, shock in every line of his face. “You are not! I swear that was never in my thoughts.”

  She exhaled a sigh of relief. One less worry then, at least for today.

  “But we must discuss this, Mrs. Lyncott. Neither of us is having the least success in moderating my sister’s behavior.”

  He was having no success. She, on the other hand, had managed to bring the gypsies here. Which—in retrospect—had not been her best idea. The very thought made her knees go weak. Had she truly almost died tonight? The world began to tilt and swirl around her.

  “Caroline!”

  She blinked, brought back to the present with a gasp. The sound sent fresh fire down her throat, and she clenched her teeth against the pain. He was beside her in an instant, cupping her elbow and guiding her to a seat. She took it gratefully, her heart still beating with too frantic a pulse.

  She felt his hand on her face, large and gentle. “Caroline,” he said, his voice growing urgent. “Caroline, look at me.”

  She focused on his hazel eyes and the green flecks she saw there. They made her think of meadows and sweet grass, and nothing at all of monkeys. “Do all Scots have such amazingly colored eyes?”

  She watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “Nay, luv, they’re all mine.” His thick burr sent lovely shivers down her spine, though she could barely understand a word he’d said. Normally, he adopted a proper English accent.

  Still, she held his gaze, watching as his pupils dilated, losing the green into darker tones. She raised her hand to touch him in some way. She wanted to know the texture of his skin, the width of his mouth, the feel of a man.

  “Here you go,” said Lady Anne as she rounded the corner carrying a tea tray. And suddenly, his lordship was two steps away from her. In the blink of an eye, Caroline’s view went from the man’s eyes to the shiny brass buttons on his coat. She glanced at Lady Anne but saw nothing amiss. If her ladyship had seen anything untoward, she gave no sign of it. Meanwhile, the earl took another step back and executed a handsome bow. “I shall leave you to it then, Anne. Mrs. Lyncott.”

  Caroline looked up, unsure what to say. Their gazes caught and held, and in the silence she heard a strange sound—a shush, like the wind through the trees or the touch of a hand through meadow grasses. It was quiet and powerful, and yet she could barely hear it, much less feel its caress. She was so focused on trying to understand the sensations that when he spoke, the words startled her. His tone was too formal, too superficial, and not at all the subtle whisper she’d almost heard. “You will tell us if you need anything,” he said. “If you are distressed in any—”

  “I am merely bruised, my lord.” She pushed through her confusion. “I have suffered much worse, I assure you.” She hadn’t meant to say that, though the knowledge was clear upon her scarred chest. But he didn’t know that so she flashed him a smile. “Of course, I will tell the staff if I need something.”

  He studied her a little longer, as if trying to judge whether she lied. In the end, he had no choice but to withdraw. Caroline turned her attention to Lady Anne, who was pouring the tea, her hands steady though her expression was deeply troubled.

  “Don’t speak anymore,” the lady said. “I am simply horrified by what happened. I cannot express how sorry I am. To think that it happened in our own home. In my bedroom!”

  Caroline took the teacup, sipping obediently as Lady Anne settled in a chair across from her. In truth, the hot liquid did feel good on her throat.

  “I am going to get you that gypsy tea. I know my brother is furious with me, and rightly so, but I cannot believe that Mr. Pike knowingly brought that horrible thief in here. He expressly told him to stay in the stable. I heard it myself, but…” She swallowed and looked away, but then a moment later, she was looking into Caroline’s eyes, her expression pleading. “I am so very sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to help.”

  Caroline set aside her tea with a smile. “I am fine, my lady.” Then she reached forward and squeezed her ladyship’s hand.

  That motion was her undoing because it pulled at the pins that held her bodice in place. A single breath later, the tear in the dress fell open to reveal her scars.

  Lady Anne’s gasp of surprise echoed in the room. Caroline tried to cover herself quickly, but there was no help for it. The woman had seen.

  “Caroline,” she breathed. “What happened?”

  Damnation. What was she supposed to do now?

  Two

  Gregory stared into the cold grate and brooded. And as a man who usually had ten things to do at any given moment, the act of brooding was unusual and unwelcome. But he couldn’t stop.

  She’d nearly been killed. He didn’t think her name. He’d long since discarded the formal “Mrs. Lyncott” or the informal “Caroline” in his thoughts. The first didn’t fit, and
the second was far from appropriate. So, in his mind, she was always she. And she had nearly been killed.

  She also had old, brutal scars on her chest. He had seen them in her few unguarded moments right after the attack. He hadn’t said anything then. God knew it was none of his business, but he had still asked the doctor about them. Still pushed his nose into her affairs because he’d been unable to stop himself.

  “Old wounds,” the doctor had said. “She said they were from a childhood accident.”

  Like hell they were. No one accidentally had the initials DP carved into her chest. Worse was imagining the wounds that had created those scars. It must have been a devastating attack.

  He shoved the image out of his mind, but it did no good. He kept replaying the events of two nights before. The sight of her fighting for breath as the thief choked her, the fury in her eyes as her fists had no effect, and then—afterward—the sight of those scars. What had she suffered in her life? And how could he make amends for what had happened under his roof?

  It was an enormous relief when a knock sounded on the library door, pulling him out of his morose obsession.

  “Come in,” he called.

  She stepped in. For a moment, he wondered if he had conjured her out of his thoughts, but he would never have dressed her so primly. Her face was composed, with every strand of golden brown hair pinned neatly beneath her cap. She wore one of her usual high-necked gowns, understandable now that he knew what was beneath. Then she curtsied with stately elegance.

  “My lord, you asked me to come speak with you when all was set to rights.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Lyncott. Please, come sit down.” He took her hand and drew her to a chair by the fire. He sat as well, knowing she would never take a seat unless he did.

  “If you are busy, my lord, I can come back later.”

  “No, no,” he said in complete honesty. “I have never been more grateful for an interruption in my life.”

  She smiled, though her gaze remained lowered. He hated that. She had the most beautiful green eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. Because of her damnable dress, he couldn’t see if any bruises remained.

  “Quite well, my lord,” she answered. “The doctor even says I can eat regular food as long as it gives me no pain.”

  “But it still hurts?”

  She smiled again, her gaze canting up for the briefest tick of the clock. “I have banged my knee to more discomfort. I assure you, I can fulfill my duties.”

  He huffed. “I never had any doubt about that. Frankly, it is because of you that my sister and I have lived together with any semblance of decorum at all. Don’t think I haven’t seen how you keep the peace. McTavish would have driven out my sister’s servants within a week had you not been here to mollify him. And if belowstairs was in chaos, I shudder to think what my sister would do…” He ran a distracted hand over his face as he envisioned that particular disaster. “Well, suffice it to say that I have noticed your talents regarding my home.”

  He watched her cheeks turn pink and her lips curve in a soft smile. In truth, he’d noticed a great deal more about her than just her skill with the staff. He’d seen how she always moved with exquisite poise. Her language and accent were above reproach. She never stepped a smidge out of place and was always the picture of elegance despite her conservative clothing.

  Given that he was forever sporting wrinkles, smudges, or burns from his scientific experiments, her perfection kept him a little in awe. It was rather disconcerting to admire one’s housekeeper, but there it was.

  Meanwhile, she dipped her chin in acceptance. “Thank you, my lord. I’m pleased to work in such a fine colony as this.”

  Colony? He paused a moment, studying her position. She sat at perfect ease, not a hair out of place. He couldn’t shake the impression that she was amused, and yet he could not understand the joke.

  “Yes, well, it wasn’t so fine a few nights ago, was it?” he said, then immediately cursed himself. Ham-handed of him to blurt that out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up—”

  “On the contrary, my lord, isn’t that why I am here now? To discuss what happened and why?”

  She was right, but he had no idea how to approach this discussion. Uneasy, he pushed to his feet, needing to pace off his agitation. “It’s my sister, you see. I had thought that giving her time was all she needed. Cora’s death was quite a shock to us both, but Anne also had to relocate here to London. It was terribly hard on her.”

  He turned back to Caroline to catch a brief moment when her eyes met his. But he caught only the barest glimpse of green before she looked down again. He stifled a curse, then immediately went to stand in front of her. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he touched her face anyway. He felt the smooth cream of her skin and the strength of her jaw as he gently raised her head to look at him.

  “Please, would you look at me directly when we speak? At least when we are in private? You have the most beautiful eyes, and seeing them is one of my greatest pleasures.”

  She blinked, obviously startled by his words. Truthfully, he was as well. Certainly, many of his set dispensed compliments by the barrelful—especially to pretty servants—but he was not one of them. Still, he did not regret his words. He never regretted speaking the truth. Well, not often anyway, and certainly, not now.

  “My lord?”

  Her voice was a whisper, and he belatedly realized he was still holding her chin, stroking her jaw, and looking at the plump outline of her rose lips. He swallowed and released her, stepping back an appropriate distance.

  At least she kept her face raised, and he smiled in gratitude. “The thing is,” he continued, scrambling to remember what he’d been talking about. “Far from getting better, Lady Anne seems to be getting worse.”

  “Never say worse, my lord. Don’t you remember when she first arrived? She cried every day, barely ate a thing, lost nearly a stone in weight. Now, she laughs, visits her friends, and is happier than I’ve ever seen her. How could you think she has gotten worse?”

  “It is because of those friends!” he snapped, his worry for his sister getting the better of him. “Alchemists, bluestockings talking about ghosts, and now gypsies. It’s maddening. Worse, it’s dangerous, and I cannot allow it to continue.”

  He glared at the grate, his mind once again reliving the events of that awful night. Choking, dying, scars.

  “I will not let that happen again,” he stated to his memories.

  It was some time before he realized she had not responded. That she had, in fact, been absolutely silent while he glared daggers at the grate. Eventually, he got hold of his temper and turned back to her.

  “Have I apologized yet—”

  “Oh, leave off!” she abruptly snapped. Then she flushed a bright red as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Clearly, she was embarrassed by the break in decorum, but he would not allow her to rush into formality again. Not after seeing the flash of green fire in her eyes.

  He dropped into the chair across from her, his manner eager. “Don’t stop now. What were you going to say?”

  She folded her hands, but her expression remained fixed on him. “Only that you have apologized incessantly, as has Lady Anne. Thieves are everywhere in London. I merely fell afoul of one. It is neither your fault nor hers.”

  “No,” he grumbled. “It is the fault of that damned gypsy.”

  “I assume you mean the gypsy thief, my lord, not Mr. Pike.”

  He slammed his fist on the armrest of his chair, startled by his own fury. “I mean them both!”

  “Well, you cannot. Lady Anne believes that Mr. Pike was in complete ignorance of his associate’s actions. In fact, he forbid—”

  “That doesn’t matter in the least. He brought that murderer into my home, and he is responsible.”

  She pursed her lips and gave him a
chiding look. “My lord, by that logic, your sister brought Mr. Pike here, and she is therefore responsible. Do you lay the blame at her door as well? Or perhaps, you blame me because I am the one who convinced her to bring them here.”

  He clenched his jaw, unwilling to let the words out. But she was smarter than most and saw through his silence immediately.

  “I see,” she finally said. What? He wanted to scream. What do you see when there is that flash of lightness in your eyes? What do you mean when you use words like “colony” and smile secretly? She didn’t answer, and he didn’t ask. So instead, he found himself blurting out his other frustration. “She is the daughter of an earl. She should not be consorting with gypsies!”

  Her eyebrows arched. “I hardly think an evening’s entertainment is consorting.”

  “You should have told me!”

  She sighed, but her gaze did not drop. She met his look evenly, though he could tell she steeled herself for some terrible consequence. He sighed. He wished to have an honest discussion, and he could not do that if she spent the entire time expecting to be dismissed.

  “I have already said that your position in my household is safe.” In truth, he wanted to promote her, not send her packing.

  Her shoulders eased a bit in relief, but her words held no softening. “Do you know much of zoo keeping, my lord?”

  He turned to face her directly. “Zoo keeping?”

  “Managing a menagerie. As I understand it, the trick to keeping wild animals is to allow them to act as nature dictates, but to do so in a contained, civilized fashion.”

  He frowned. “I cannot see how that is possible. One cannot allow a tiger to act according to its nature. He would be hunting and killing prey.”

  She folded her hands together, her shoulders shifting in a small shrug. She was a woman of tiny movements, he realized, and set himself to the task of watching every nuance of her body. “Yes, tigers and large cats would be dangerous. I was thinking perhaps of monkeys.”