The Scandal in Kissing an Heir

by Sophie Barnes

  She knew what he must have been thinking and decided not to bother herself with his concerns. She was here now, and she had every intention of having a splendid evening. “Sounds like a marvelous idea,” she said, presenting each of the gentlemen with a dazzling smile. “I will partner with my husband, in which case I should probably switch seats with you, Horton, so I may sit across from him.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Daniel groaned again, which in turn made her chuckle with amusement.

  What the blazes had he been thinking to bring her here? He’d never been more perplexed by a decision before in his life, and now his wife was grinning happily as she prepared to gamble with two seasoned players. “I’m not entirely sure of the procedure,” she was saying as she took the seat that Horton had vacated. “Should I place my bet now or after the cards have been dealt?”

  Good God!

  “Becky, perhaps it would be best if you sat this one out and just watched the first hand. I’m sure I can find someone else to . . .” His words trailed off at the disappointment in her eyes. Devil take it, so they’d lose a few pounds, but at least she’d be happy. He sighed and tried to look more optimistic.

  “You may place your bet after you’ve taken a look at your cards, Lady Rebecca,” Norton said. “I will deal the first round, if that is agreeable?”

  “I have no issue with it,” Daniel said as he glanced toward Rebecca, who looked undeniably cheerful. Her demeanor didn’t change much when she picked up her cards and sorted them in her hand. But then she frowned, and Daniel felt doomed; she was looking at her hand as if it had been the most confusing thing she’d ever set eyes upon. Since his own hand looked fairly miserable, he decided that he might as well forget all chance of winning and just enjoy the game for the hell of it. He certainly wasn’t about to gamble on their chances of winning.

  The thought had just entered his head when Rebecca pulled two pounds out of her reticule and placed them on the table. Daniel stared at the money, speechless. It was a large sum for anyone to risk on one single hand. What are you doing? he wanted to ask, but Horton and Windham had already added their own two pounds to the pot, leaving Daniel with no choice but to follow suit. The evening was not turning out the way he’d envisioned.

  Sitting at Horton’s left, Daniel led the first card—the two of clubs. Rebecca stared at the card for a second, then plucked a card from her own hand and placed it on the table—the king of clubs. Windham discarded a five, and Horton took the trick with the ace.

  The next card played was the three of spades. Daniel placed his only good card, the jack, on top of it, hoping that Windham wasn’t sitting with the queen, king or ace. Rebecca put a low three on it, and as he’d feared, Windham took the trick with the ace. Changing colors, Windham then played the four of diamonds to his partner, who in turn played the queen. Daniel didn’t even bother trying to compete with that, since he didn’t have a single diamond anyway, so he played a low heart instead.

  But then Rebecca leaned forward and placed the king on the table, and everything that happened from that point on was nothing short of impressive. She played the queen of clubs next, followed by the jack, the ten, the seven and the six, taking all tricks, since the rest of the clubs had already been played. She then played the king of spades, the queen of spades, the ace of hearts and eventually gave the last trick to Windham, who had the ace of diamonds.

  Daniel blinked in disbelief. Raising his gaze from the table, he met Rebecca’s eyes and laughed. It was impossible not to, when she looked so darn pleased with herself. “I must say you’re full of surprises. After our other recent card game, I hadn’t expected you to be so good.”

  “That’s because we weren’t playing whist,” she said, eyes sparkling with merriment. “I’m good at whist.”

  “I can see that,” Daniel said. He was ridiculously proud of her for doing so well and noted that they made an excellent team. They played three more rounds before Norton and Windham declared themselves so thoroughly impressed with Rebecca’s card skills that they would rather try their luck elsewhere. Both of them bowed to her as they took their leave and wished both her and Daniel the best of luck with the remainder of the evening.

  “What now?” Rebecca asked when she and Daniel were once again alone.

  “Now, dear Becky, we find another table to play at, but this time, I’m playing vingt-et-un.”

  “But I’m terrible at that,” Rebecca muttered. “I mean, I haven’t had nearly enough practice.”

  “Which is why you’re not playing,” he said. He didn’t like the look of disappointment on her face and decided he’d better explain his reasoning. “Remember why we’re here, Becky. It’s not to have fun but because we need an income, and as much as I’ve enjoyed playing with you, the stakes at whist aren’t high enough. We need something with better winnings, and vingt-et-un is perfect for that, especially since I’m good at it.”

  “Very well,” Rebecca muttered. She still didn’t look too pleased about his decision, but at least she was willing to accept his reasoning.

  Looking around, he spotted a table with four players who were currently receiving their cards from a dealer, a young man with a red scar slicing across his cheek. There was a vacant chair, so Daniel hurried over and claimed it, greeting the other players as he asked if he might be allowed to join them.

  “By all means,” a burly-looking chap with a cigar jutting out of his mouth muttered. Whoever he was, he’d decided to get comfortable, for he’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His cravat was nowhere to be found.

  “You’ll have to add five pounds to the pot,” another fellow added. He looked familiar, and Daniel realized that he’d actually seen this man before—yet another gentleman who favored the relaxed atmosphere that Riley’s offered.

  Daniel had no issue with adding the necessary blunt, and soon the game was under way. He was aware of Rebecca’s presence at his right shoulder, her scent blending with the otherwise smoky air. Determined to avoid distraction, he forced his attention away from her and focused on his cards instead, claiming victory ten minutes later with a pair of aces.

  He won five more rounds, but when he lost on the sixth and was forced to part with ten pounds, he fought the urge to try and win it back. Be responsible, he told himself. Walk away. He turned to tell Rebecca that he was ready to leave, only to find her gone.

  What the devil?

  Where could she have got to? Grabbing his winnings, he shoved the money into his jacket pockets, then rose to his feet and scanned the room. It took him no more than a moment to spot her through the throng of onlookers gathered around the various tables, and when he finally did, his stomach lurched. She was not alone but having what appeared to be a very animated conversation with Solange.

  Jesus, bloody, Christ!

  His gut reaction was to turn away and try to ignore the incident. Who could blame him? He couldn’t imagine any man relishing the idea of his wife making the acquaintance of his mistress, not even if he was no longer involved with said mistress. It was all most distressing, but to pretend he hadn’t noticed what was going on would be cowardly. Besides, it was too late for that now—Rebecca had turned her head and seen him watching them—especially if he wanted to share a bed with her once they got home.

  With a heavy sigh, he started making his way toward them, smiling as he reached Rebecca’s side despite her look of displeasure. He linked his arm with hers, hoping to show where his loyalty lay. “Good evening, Solange,” he then said smoothly. “I see you’ve met my wife.”

  “Indeed, I was just offering her my congratulations on her marriage,” Solange said, her smile lacking any measure of kindness.

  Daniel wondered what he’d ever seen in the woman, and then recalled that their relationship had been exclusively sexual and that he’d never given her character much thought. The notion that he could have been so shallow embarrassed him now, though not nea
rly as much as his concern for what Solange might have said to Rebecca. “Thank you,” he said. It seemed like the polite thing to do.

  Looking at his wife, he noted that she stood stiffly at his side, completely mute and with a look in her eyes that would have sent a demon back to hell. What the devil had Solange said to her? The woman in question leaned toward him, her lips drawn into a deliberate smile. “Should you ever reconsider the offer I gave you last night, I shall be only too happy to oblige. You know where to find me.”

  Hot, primal rage poured through Daniel, giving him an alarming urge to place his hands about the woman’s neck and strangle her. By God, he’d never been so furious with anyone before in his life. That she would say such a thing in public, and with his wife present, was beyond the pale! It was nothing short of hateful, and he despised her for it.

  With a supreme willpower he never thought he possessed, he managed to remain perfectly still as he stared back at Solange, who was still looking mighty pleased with herself. “Rest assured, madam,” he said, his tone as bland as he could possibly manage under the circumstances, “that I am not a man prone to indecision. Frankly, I’m surprised you would think otherwise. But, since you have so gravely misjudged me, let me be perfectly clear; I am married now, and more than that, I am happy. You see, my wife is a very capable woman. I have no need for you.”

  There was a slight gasp, not from Solange, who was glaring back at him now with pure venom, but from Rebecca, who’d probably been horribly embarrassed by what he’d just said about her. He wasn’t sorry he’d done it though. There was just something so utterly satisfying about telling Solange that his wife was a better bedmate than she’d ever been. Pulling himself up to his full height, he gave her his most threatening look and said, “Now, if you will please excuse us, we should like to be on our way.” And with that, he led Rebecca past Solange, who looked as though she might start spewing insults after them as they left, toward the exit as quickly as he could manage.

  Once in the street, he looked around for an available hackney, but all the carriages were either private or occupied. For a fleeting second he considered sending Rebecca back inside until he’d managed to procure a means of transportation for them, but then he thought better of it. They were not on a deserted street, after all. Surely she’d be safer at his side than alone in a hell full of foxed men and loose women, not to mention the unpleasant thought of what else Solange might say to her if he wasn’t there to put her in her place. “Come, let’s walk over to Regent Street. Hopefully we’ll have better luck there.” Without a word, Rebecca allowed him to lead the way. He knew he had to say something to address the situation that had just taken place inside Riley’s. Deciding that an apology was probably a good beginning, he simply said, “You shouldn’t have had to endure that. I’m sorry.”

  “I must confess I’m not accustomed to being verbally assaulted like that. It was . . . shocking.”

  Daniel stopped in his tracks and turned her toward him. “What exactly did she say to you?” he asked. He didn’t want to know, and yet he had to. There was no getting around the issue.

  Rebecca looked away. For a long moment she said nothing, but then she took a big gulp of air and the words suddenly poured out of her. “She told me that I’m exactly what she imagined me to be—incredibly beautiful, but young and inexperienced. She said she could see it in my face, that there was a certain element of wonder and naiveté in my eyes that would eventually vanish with age, more quickly, she reasoned, as I got to know you better and became better acquainted with your . . . needs.” Rebecca’s voice had softened to barely a whisper, and Daniel wanted to stop her from saying more.

  Dear Lord, it was worse than he’d imagined. Solange had deliberately tried to terrify Rebecca, perhaps even poison her against him. “Whatever else she might have told you, Becky, it’s—”

  “She said she’d be happy to take my place in your bed if I ever grew weary of pleasing you, or if I decided that I didn’t wish to comply with some of your more . . . unusual requests, whatever that might mean. Frankly, I’ve no desire to contemplate it, Daniel.”

  “She lied to you, Becky. She knows she’s been tossed aside and is now lashing out in the one way that might be able to hurt me.” Rebecca met his gaze, her eyes wide and soulful. “By placing doubt in the mind of the woman I replaced her with,” he explained. “Becky, I would never expect you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with, and I would certainly never go to her or anyone else instead. I’ve told you this before—I’ve promised myself to you and you alone because you deserve to have a husband you can trust and because, truthfully, I’ve no desire for anyone else. All I want is you.”

  Her expression softened and her lips trembled just a little until she eventually smiled. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. “Please don’t doubt me,” he said as they resumed walking, the streetlights casting a yellow glow across the pavement. “What I told her in there is true, you know—you’re more than capable of attending to my needs.”

  He could practically feel the heat radiating off of her. He’d embarrassed her once again, but it couldn’t be helped. She had to understand how much he desired her, and he would say whatever he must in order to make that happen. Besides, she’d quickly become the closest friend he’d ever had. The last thing he wanted was for someone to hurt her by filling her head with mistruths. For a split second the idea of losing her flittered through his mind, accompanied by a cold dread. It was probably the most unpleasant thought he’d had in years, if not ever, and he instinctively tightened his hold on her. Rebecca was his. He . . . cared for her and knew he’d be miserable without her company, something he’d grown very used to over the past two weeks. Heavens, was that really all it had been since he’d met her for the first time? It felt like he’d known her forever.

  Daniel was still pondering the significance of this when a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts and he noticed that a large man stood blocking their path, knife in hand.

  What the devil?

  “Ye look like a wealthy pair, out for a lovely stroll,” he said. “Now empty yer pockets and I won’t have to harm ye.”

  Taking a moment to size the man up, Daniel contemplated his options. He could tell Rebecca to get behind him while he took his chances with the man. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten into a brawl, and with Starkly’s warning in mind, he’d brought a weapon of his own along with him just in case—a dagger strapped to the waistband of his breeches. One thing was clear. He had to protect Rebecca. She was a liability now, and whatever happened, he couldn’t risk placing her in harm’s way. If the man somehow got to her and threatened her with the knife, or, worse, overpowered Daniel and kidnapped her . . . dear God, he’d never had to consider another person’s safety like this before and found himself fearing not for himself but for her. He had to keep her safe at all costs, even if it meant giving up his winnings.

  “You make a convincing argument,” he said as he reached inside one of his pockets and pulled out a stack of bills.

  The man, eyes glistening with greed, moved toward Daniel, ready to grab the prize, when Daniel heard a steady click. “I suggest you beat a hasty retreat, sir,” Rebecca said, her hands shaky on the small pistol she was holding. Daniel stared at her and then at their assailant, who’d stopped in his tracks and was now looking very much afraid. “From what I hear,” she continued, “these things have a tendency to go off without much provocation, and as you can see, I’m not very calm at the moment. I’d hate to fire upon you by accident.”

  Without uttering another word, their assailant took her advice and backed away slowly before turning on his heel and taking off at a run. He disappeared down the first side street. Once he was out of sight, Daniel turned to Rebecca, whose whole body was shaking, her hand still holding the pistol in an outstretched pose. Reaching for it, Daniel pried it from her fingers, placed it safely in his own pocket and hugged Rebecca fiercely a
gainst his chest, not caring who might see such a public display of affection and think it inappropriate. They could all go hang for all he cared.

  “You were marvelous,” he whispered against the top of her head. “Absolutely, bloody marvelous!”

  He felt her breathing return to a steadier pace as she calmed herself, and then he felt her chest vibrate against his own and realized that she was laughing. Pulling away, he looked down at her and was met with a broad grin that forced a smile to his own lips. “What’s so amusing?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she managed between giggles. “I suppose the thought of such a large and terrifying man being so thoroughly frightened by a woman wielding a pistol. And to think that I’ve never been quite so scared in my life.”

  “That’s probably what convinced him to run away,” Daniel mused as he took her by the arm and started hurrying her along. He was eager to get Rebecca home, where it was safe. “A pistol in the hands of an unpredictable person can be a frightening thing indeed, and you, my dear, looked very unpredictable just then. Tell me, have you always carried a weapon in your reticule?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “It was a gift from Lady Trapleigh. When I told her of my plan to escape, she warned me that the world can be a dangerous place—London in particular—and suggested I always carry the pistol on me wherever I went. It’s a very handy little thing, don’t you think?”

  Daniel couldn’t help but laugh. “It certainly is, and thank God for Lady Trapleigh and her invaluable piece of advice. She may very well have saved our lives!”

  “Oh, do you really think it could have come to that?” Rebecca asked, all traces of humor vanishing from her voice.

  Daniel didn’t. He was confident that the villain would have run off as soon as he’d gotten some money. Risking the hangman’s noose in the middle of Piccadilly was probably not on his agenda. “I don’t think so, but he would have taken our money, and then where would we be? I daresay he was mistaken in assuming that we are wealthy.” Speaking of their financial situation left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated living like this, with the constant worry of what tomorrow would bring. Yes, he was good at gambling, and his winnings were enough to sustain them until his investments started making a profit, but what would happen if he lost, or if the companies he’d invested in didn’t do as well as he was hoping they would?