“You deserve to be as happy.”
“You were saying that?”
He blushed. “Well, no, I was waxing on about Byron’s writings. I know you’re fond of reading.”
“And walks in the park. What say we step out for a while? To be quite honest, I’ve had about all the tea I can stand today.”
He perked up. “I’d like that very much.”
She glanced over at her hostess. “Would that meet with your approval, Duchess? If we go for a short stroll? My maid can serve as chaperone.” To ensure her presence wouldn’t be too much of a burden on the Greystone staff, she’d brought Annie with her.
“I think it’s a lovely day for an outing. Go with my blessing.”
Sometime later she and Somerdale were strolling arm in arm through Hyde Park. Every now and then a gentleman would walk or ride by—in a carriage or on a horse—and tip his hat to her. Amazing the attention one garnered when no longer associated with scandal. She found it somewhat of a relief to have some confirmation that her uneventful Season had not rested squarely upon her shoulders.
“I’ve not seen you at the Twin Dragons of late,” Somerdale said.
“I’ve been frightfully busy. The wedding came about in such a rush.”
He chuckled. “I daresay you have the right of that. There are wagers at White’s on Rexton’s heir arriving within eight months.”
“Truly.” She didn’t bother to hide her irritation that men would wager on something that was none of their business, or that they still considered Tillie scandalous enough to find herself with child before she was married—although Gina knew there was a chance she could be with child. But if she was, her sister would have told her, would have gone ahead and shared the joy. Tillie had long wanted a child, but she’d been unlucky in that regard during her first marriage. “What position did you take on the wager?”
His cheeks reddening, he cleared his throat, looked down at the grass as though the answer resided there. “I wagered it would come early … in seven months.”
“Pity. You’ll not be collecting on that wager.”
His look was one of incredulity. “She’s not with child?”
“No. Did no one consider they married in haste because they wanted to be together so desperately? They’re frightfully in love. I found the whole affair terribly romantic.”
“I’ve offended you.”
“Disappointed more like. I want someone to love me to distraction just as Rexton loves her, to insist the wedding take place immediately so we might be together.”
“Marry in haste, repent in leisure. One should not rush into these things.”
“Marry in leisure and you might have the woman doubting your devotion to her.”
“You’re quite right. Marrying in haste is the way to go. What are your thoughts on courtship? Should it go just as quickly?”
“I suppose it depends on the couple and their relationship, as well as what they feel for each other.”
“I adore you.”
She stopped and stared at him. His blunt admission was unexpected. She’d been rather certain he fancied her, but he’d given no previous hint his affections ran so deeply.
“Apologies. I’ve spoken out of turn and embarrassed you,” he said.
“No, I … I simply wasn’t expecting a declaration so soon.” In all honesty, she was flummoxed by it. He hadn’t seemed particularly devoted, but had given the impression he was constantly testing the waters regarding her suitability. “I do hold some affection for you, but I’m not yet to the point where I can commit myself … to anyone.”
“Again, my apologies. You did not sit out a single dance. You had attention aplenty. I’m feeling a bit insecure and questioning my skills at wooing, as I’ve never before put them to the test.”
She couldn’t imagine Andrew feeling insecure about anything. If he was at all bothered by attention being given to a woman he fancied, she suspected he’d react with jealousy. He’d assert himself and make it known the lady held his regard and was not available.
“I have more competition now that your sister’s fortunes have changed,” Somerdale continued.
He was referring to the overlooking of Tillie’s scandalous past. “She never should have been considered a notorious heiress to begin with.” The unkind moniker had been attributed to her sister ever since she’d been spied kissing a footman. Few knew it had been a ruse to force her husband to divorce her.
“Perhaps not, but her actions were rather … untoward. I mean no offense, of course, but I seem to have gotten myself into a pickle here.”
She hadn’t helped matters by putting him on the spot. Rather ungracious of her. She gave him a soft smile. “Don’t be concerned with the other gents. I’ll not forget you took me rowing when everyone else was barely acknowledging me.”
“I shall take comfort in knowing I have a leg up,” he said as he started forward. “And what of Lord Andrew Mabry?”
“Pardon?”
“I noticed you waltzed with him last night.”
Had everyone taken note of her partners? It was to be expected, she supposed, if a gentleman had a keen interest in her. “As you’ve already pointed out, I danced with a good many gents.”
“Yes, but you never took your gaze from Mabry’s. It was quite intense—the manner in which the two of you looked at each other. It made me wonder if you might welcome his suit.”
“I walked down the aisle in the church with him as well, but that doesn’t mean we’re to marry. Besides, he is not of a mind to wed.”
“Many a man not of a mind to wed finds himself at the altar.”
Not Andrew. And certainly not with her. If he had not kissed her when they were in such close proximity in that small room at the brothel or when they were so near when he delivered her to the door, he obviously had the fortitude to resist all temptation where she was concerned, while she would gladly surrender to it.
She tried to envision herself feeling as comfortable with Somerdale at a brothel, but the images simply wouldn’t form. She couldn’t see him not objecting when she went off with a dove, laughing when he realized all she’d been doing was conversing, encouraging her to peep at a couple who were on the precipice of fornicating.
She also realized that while she knew exactly how many—and precisely which—ladies Andrew had escorted onto the dance floor, she hadn’t noticed if Somerdale had danced with anyone other than herself. He was kind, polite, loyal—all wonderful attributes—but they didn’t make her grow warm with longing. Shouldn’t she want more from a man than pleasant walks?
“I seem to have killed our conversation,” he said with an awkward laugh.
“I was simply noticing the clouds. They seem to be growing darker. I think it’s going to rain.”
“We should probably start back then. You are as sweet as sugar and likely to melt if you get wet.”
He was trying so hard to charm her. She felt rather badly that she wasn’t charmed. Still, she patted his arm. “Yes, we probably should.”
It was an odd thing. She’d wanted so desperately to be courted. And now she was finding it dull. Last night had spoiled her. She wasn’t certain if she’d ever again find anything as exciting.
Damn it all to hell! What the devil was Gina doing here, in a secluded room at the Twin Dragons?
It was supposed to be a private card game with family and close friends. Although Andrew supposed she now qualified as both, at least in his sister’s eyes. Grace sat beside Gina, leaning toward her, showing her various cards, no doubt explaining the rules of the game. He didn’t know how much good the instructions were doing because Gina had not taken her gaze from him since he’d stepped through the heavy draperies that separated the small gaming area from the sitting room behind him.
If he’d known she was going to be here, he’d have made his excuses and searched for sport elsewhere, but he couldn’t very well leave now without having to offer some sort of explanation for his abrupt departure. It woul
dn’t do at all to explain he’d been in a constant state of arousal since delivering Gina to his parents’ residence the night before. He seemed incapable of purging her from his mind. Images of her sitting on the bed with a molly, in the darkness peering into the forbidden, and traveling demurely in his carriage fought for dominance, each bringing with it some aspect of her that he never wanted to forget.
“Why the frown, Andrew?” Lovingdon asked, watching him as though horns were slowly sprouting from his forehead. As he’d abruptly developed a raging headache, perhaps they were.
“I’m not frowning,” he snapped. Was he? Good God, there was a time when he’d been able to keep all his emotions hidden behind a wall that suddenly seemed in danger of crumbling.
“Perhaps you’re afraid I’ll take all your money,” Gina said.
He feared she might take something, but it had nothing to do with the coins in his purse. “Have you ever played before?” he asked, handing his jacket off to a footman, before beginning to roll up his sleeves while taking the only chair that remained available at the round table, one directly across from her.
She gave him a hesitant smile, but he noticed her eyes dipped to his arms as though she were fascinated by the simple task that revealed skin. “No, but I’ve had luck at the roulette table. Of course, your tutelage there helped.”
“I wouldn’t trust Andrew to do right by you when it comes to this game,” Grace said. “He likes to win.”
“We all like to win.” He didn’t know why he felt that tonight was some sort of test. “I assume this evening we’ll be playing by guest rules.”
“What are those?” Gina asked. “I don’t want you to let me win.”
“We’re not that kind,” he assured her. “We simply won’t cheat.”
Her smile grew, mesmerizing in its intensity. “Could you teach me to cheat?”
“It would require private lessons. I’m not going to reveal my methods to the scoundrels around this table.” Which included the Dukes and Duchesses of Ashebury and Avendale. His family associated with far too many dukes.
“If you want to learn from an expert,” Drake Darling, the owner of the establishment, said, “you’d be better off taking lessons from Grace. She’s the most skilled.”
Except Andrew didn’t want her learning from Grace. If anyone was going to teach her anything at all, he wanted it to be him. Only what he really wanted to share with her were dark, forbidden things, things that if they were caught doing would bring censure down on them. He knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—travel that path with her. She’d suffered through and survived her own sister’s scandal without becoming cynical. She didn’t need one of her own. It would change her irrevocably. He didn’t want her any different than she was.
“Those instructions must wait for another night,” Grace said. “Tonight we play honestly. Besides, it’s good practice to do that every now and then, lest we forget how.”
“Ante up,” Drake announced.
Wooden chips were already sitting in front of Andrew. They always began the games with an equal amount, and Drake knew where to find each of them if they didn’t pay up what they owed at the end. Andrew’s parents had taken the street urchin in and raised him as one of their own. He was as much a brother to Andrew as Rex was.
He tossed a chip into the center of the table, watched as Gina did the same. Her small hands were bared. All their hands were bared. Made handling the cards easier. Sleeves were rolled past elbows so cards couldn’t be hidden within them. Even though they were to play honestly tonight, he wasn’t convinced everyone would adhere to the rule.
Without even signaling to a nearby footman, he found himself with a glass of scotch, noticed Gina had a snifter of brandy. He’d have thought she’d have preferred wine. He wondered what else he might have guessed wrong about her. Wondered what he might have guessed right. Wondered anything and everything. It had been years since he’d given a fig about what pleasures a woman might offer outside the bed.
The last time he had, he’d been young, naïve, and in the end remarkably stupid. While he enjoyed the company of women immensely, he’d become the worst sort of miser, never again investing his heart or his soul in any relationship. Less chance for experiencing pain that way. Hence he understood Rex warning him away from Gina. She deserved someone who would embrace her wholeheartedly. Andrew would always hold himself in check where emotions were concerned. Having been burned badly once, he had no desire to suffer again.
The cards were dealt. After gathering his up, he lifted only the edges to see what he’d been dealt. Then he peered surreptitiously at Gina. A delicate pleat creased her brow. She glanced down at the list of winning combinations someone had written for her. He could fairly hear her squealing with joy inside her mind as her green eyes sparkled and her smile brightened. No one was going to have to cheat to beat her.
“Andrew, you’re up,” Lovingdon suddenly barked, causing Andrew to turn his attention back to his cards. “The bid is twenty quid.”
“Has every aspect of the game been explained to Miss Hammersley?” he asked, striving for a boredom he wasn’t feeling. He wondered if making love to her would garner the same excitement and enthusiasm on her part.
“You must call me Gina. We’re related now. I’m practically a sister.”
“I think the law only views you as related to Rex.”
“When it comes to family, when have we ever taken into account how the law views relations?” Grace asked.
Since his body had begun having inappropriate reactions to Gina’s nearness.
“I consider myself related by my heart to everyone at this table,” she carried on, determined to make her point and make him feel like a total ass for a comment designed to remind himself that Gina was, in fact, not his sister. That the thoughts he had regarding her would not have him burning in hell. “Blood, marriage licenses, birth certificates really have no bearing on how I view those who mean the most—”
“Calling and raising thirty,” he said, to get the game moving and his sister off her definition of family.
Avendale and his wife called. Lovingdon narrowed his eyes before folding. Grace tossed her chips onto the pile. Gina looked at the list again, gnawed on her lower lip. He wanted to nibble there, stroke his tongue over it, soothe it. His cock stirred as though he was doing precisely that. He shifted in the chair. It was going to be a long night.
Finally she gave a quick nod, like she’d convinced herself of something, gave him a sly grin, and slid her chips toward the pile, and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining her sliding those fingers over his shoulders, his chest, lower … she’d be the death of him yet. “I’ll call and raise you fifty. I can do that, can’t I?”
She looked at him imploringly as though it would break her heart if he said no. If she couldn’t, he’d have said yes and changed the rules then and there to accommodate her desire. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him?
“You can,” Grace told her, “but remember there is another round of betting after we exchange cards.”
“I remember.”
Drake sat beside her. He wasn’t playing, merely dealing. He may have told Gina that Grace was the best at cheating, but the truth was: he was the best of the lot. So even when no cheating was to take place, he wasn’t allowed to play with them because his sleight of hand bordered on the divine. Although he didn’t always use his skill to benefit himself. Andrew wondered what cards he might have slipped to Gina.
“That’s a bit rich for me,” Ashebury said, tossing down his cards. His wife, Minerva, carelessly flipped some tokens to the center of the table.
Andrew tapped his finger on the table, peered at his pair of jacks. He considered stretching out his leg and kicking Drake to see if he could get him to give some subtle signal regarding what Gina might be holding. His brother might own an establishment that catered to the vices, but Drake was one of the most generous souls he’d ever known. He wouldn’t allow Gina’s first experience to be dis
appointing. Although perhaps he was expecting everyone else to be sporting about it. “I’ll accept your raise …”
He picked up the necessary chips, tapped them on the table, found himself dragging out the moment because the anticipation in her eyes gave him a small measure of satisfaction, made him want to keep her attention, made him want to see her anticipating other things, carnal things. He flicked the wooden chips onto the others, allowing the clacking of wood to break the spell. “… and leave it at that.”
Drake began exchanging cards with the other players. Andrew was well aware, however, that his brother’s attention was more riveted on him than his actions, as though he were striving to decipher some puzzle. He tossed back his scotch, signaled for more.
Gina asked for only two cards. He wondered if she was holding three of a kind. That would beat his jacks. But what if she held three different face cards and was hoping for a pair? What if he took the win? What if he was the one who caused her joy in the game to diminish?
“Andrew?” Drake asked, a question in his voice that went beyond needing to know how many cards he wanted.
While it went against the grain and his competitive nature, he tossed away three cards, one of them the jack of hearts. “Three.”
He nearly burst out laughing when he saw the ten and two jacks that he’d received in return. He’d have had a bloody four of a kind. Never in all the games he’d played, all the ways he’d cheated, had he ever had that wondrous hand land in his lap. Three jacks, though, could still very well beat her.
When the bet came to him, he met Minerva’s fifty and raised a hundred. That knocked the Duchess of Avendale out. Grace folded. Gina was gnawing her lip again, but he could sense the excitement in her. If she wasn’t sitting, she’d no doubt be dancing around on her toes, spinning about.
“I shall call and raise another hundred,” she said.
Minerva folded. He looked at Drake, who gave him a very subtle shake of his head. Did that mean fold or not? Did it signal she had something or she didn’t? “Call. Show me your cards.”
Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses Page 5