Almost Perfect (8 page)

She started to turn toward her chamber. Lucien caught her by the hand, his fingers slipping between hers. She gave a shaken breath as their palms met. Ah, but she didn’t try to extract her hand from his. It was proof that her desire for him was greater than her need to play the proper widow. He had to have that kiss, and more.

“Consider this then,” he said. “I’ll make you a gift of five pounds at the beginning of our game. If at the end of our match you still have five pounds you may leave the table with that sum. If you have less than five pounds, you owe me the kiss.’

She looked up at him. Why should he wait for tonight when all he need do to have his kiss was lower his head? He stopped himself. That wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as tormenting himself with the prospect of their game until the sun set.

“So be it. Tonight, in the card room, then,” she said, her voice trembling.

A metallic click sounded from down the corridor. Cassie tore her hand from his and leapt into her room. Her door closed in his face.

Down the hall a servant left one of the other rooms without glancing in his direction. Lucien turned his gaze back onto Cassie’s door. How he longed to open it and join her.

“And after the card room, the garden where I’ll have my kiss,” he whispered.

Cassie stood with her back pressed against her closed door, her heart pounding. If not for the interruption she might have given Lucien the kiss he wanted and cheated herself of her stake in tonight’s game. Even more worrisome was the realization that if he’d kissed her a moment ago, she would have happily invited him into her bedchamber and allowed the worst to happen.

Not allowed, welcomed. Cassie closed her eyes and swallowed. Not the worst, either. The best.

If Lucien’s mere look was enough to destroy her morals what would his kiss do? Cassie desperately wanted to know, which was exactly why she didn’t dare let him win tonight. No, what she had to do was to relieve him of his five pounds, deny them both the kiss they wanted, then move on to another table to win another five.

Cassie hung her head at the thought of using Lucien in this way. Why did it feel so wrong?

Devanney’s dining room with its high, ornately plastered ceilings, walls covered with creamy blue and gold printed linen and massive fireplace, closed in on Lucien. It wasn’t that the room was decorated more formally than he liked. It was the masculine ritual of lingering at the dinner table.

The women had retreated to the drawing room to enjoy gossip and music almost an hour ago; the sounds of an etude wafted through the dining room doorway, nothing schoolgirlish in its execution. Lucien brought his glass of port to his lips, battling his impatience. Never had an evening dragged the way this one did. It had to be nearly ten. Then again, he’d never before anticipated a game in which he would win a kiss.

Or, more. Desire stirred sharply. Definitely more.

Lucien sipped again. Cassie had to know his reputation with cards. With that in mind the only reason she would have agreed to his terms was because she intended to lose. His need to again brush his fingers against her bare skin tormented him. Their card game was nothing more than pretense, the way Cassie justified moving from the card table to his bed.

He drained his port to its dregs, swigging it like water instead of exceedingly fine liquor then leaned back in his chair, one that looked too delicate to hold him. A white-wigged footman was instantly at his elbow, decanter in hand. Lucien let the servant refill the crystal goblet with tawny liquid as he glanced around the room.

During the day the number of Devanney’s guests swelled to more than fifty, but only twenty actually stayed at Ryecroft Castle. The locals went home for the night, not to return until the next morning and their outing to the ruins of a local abbey. That made the evening meal an intimate gathering. Too intimate.

The dining room had become Percy’s stage as he told the tale of Prinny hunting on his father’s estate, a tale Lucien had heard more than once. His former ward looked even more outrageous tonight, wearing a waistcoat of silver-shot blue silk sprinkled with spangles beneath his black evening attire. Lucien suspected Percy’s startling attire was meant to impress Miss Elizabeth Conningsby and undo Egremont. Egremont and Percy were friendly competitors in all things, Egremont wanting what Percy had, Percy trying to take what Egremont had from him. Right now, the bone of their contention was Cassie’s beautiful sister.

Devanney, his evening attire cut with a Corinthian in mind, slouched happily in his chair at the table’s head. Lucien sent his cousin a pointed look that asked if they might please adjourn this gathering. Devanney gave a horrified shake of his head. For good reason. Once Devanney entered the drawing room he became Duchess Eleanor’s willing slave.

Devanney quirked his brow to ask Lucien why there should be any hurry. The only reply Lucien could offer was a shrug. The last thing he wanted his cousin to know was that he continued to pursue Cassie despite his refusal last night. That would only give Devanney hope for his prank.

Devanney eyed him for a moment then grimaced in acquiescence. Relieved, Lucien turned his attention back onto Percy and his story, only to have a movement near the table’s end catch his eye. Sir Roland Conningsby had turned in his chair to watch the drawing room door, a worried frown on his broad brow.

Once again Conningsby surprised Lucien. The erstwhile sot hadn’t touched his dinner wine and only toyed with his port. Cassie’s father looked more downcast than Lucien thought possible for the little buffoon.

Percy’s tale finally ended as it always did, with the overweight regent tumbling off his horse. A spate of uncomfortable laughter followed. Devanney straightened in his chair.

“Your mind wanders far from hills and hunting, Hollier,” he called to Lucien. “Do we bore you?”

“Not at all,” Lucien replied, cursing his cousin behind his smile. Devanney might have acquiesced, but he still wanted his explanation for why Lucien was in such a hurry.

“Lord Graceton is far too polite to admit the truth, Lord Ryecroft,” Percy said, his words slurring. The lad hadn’t yet learned to hold his liquor; he’d consumed not only his own portion of wine and port, but what Sir Roland hadn’t. “If his mind wanders it’s because Prinny’s foibles annoy him.”

“That’s enough said about that, Percy,” Lucien warned. “Lord Graceton’s right. It’s time to leave our regent and his preoccupations for something closer to hand,” said Egremont.

Even wearing his gold trimmed regimentals, the young man seemed Percy’s opposite, plain where Percy was handsome and slender where his friend had a more powerful build. Egremont’s only remarkable feature was the startling blue color of his eyes. That, combined with his wavy black hair saved him from being nondescript. He looked at Lucien. “My lord, might I interest you in a game of cards?”

That was the activity Lucien wanted, but not the partner he craved. The same couldn’t be said of Egremont. The colonel had a score to settle, having recently lost seventy pounds to Lucien.

“You might,” Lucien said, offering the only reply polite society allowed. Egremont wouldn’t be willing to let him move on to a new partner until one of them had lost the night’s limit. Lucien gnashed his teeth at the thought of yet another delay before claiming Cassie’s kiss.

The colonel smiled widely and rose. “Well then my lords and good gentlemen, what do you say about joining the ladies?”

Since every man except Devanney was eager to be on to a new occupation it didn’t take long for them to file from the room. Lucien, his refreshed glass of port in hand, waited for his cousin as the men made their exodus.

Devanney scowled as he joined Lucien. “Why didn’t I refuse when Her Grace informed me she was coming?” Devanney muttered as they met.

Lucien laughed a little. “Because she’s your grandfather’s sister and you’re a devoted nephew.”

“More fool me,” Devanney grumbled, walking into the drawing room.

With so few guests in residence there were only five card tables set up at one end of the room. That left more chairs available for those who preferred the amiable pastimes of music and conversation. It was Barbara at the piano. Her eyes were closed as her clever fingers filled the room with the grandeur of her piece. Miss Elizabeth Conningsby stood beside her, turning pages that Barbara wasn’t watching.

Cassie sat in a nearby chair, enjoying the performance. She no longer wore the demure green-sprigged dress he’d fastened this afternoon, but a fashionably cut lavender gown, a breath of lacy shawl covering the mounds of her breasts that rose above her bodice. Knowing she again wore her corset tantalized rather than daunted Lucien. She could play the modest matron all she wanted, but he knew better.

A plush lilac velvet turban trimmed in gold covered her head. A few golden ringlets escaped its confinement, one curling tress trailing down the slender length of her neck. Lucien swallowed, reminded of the strands he’d caressed this afternoon. Lord, but he wanted to feel the silky smoothness of her hair against his fingers, to place a kiss upon her nape.

Impatience rose beyond all bearing. Fifteen minutes at the table with Egremont would be too long. Lucien wanted his game with Cassie, and he wanted it now.

Duchess Eleanor rose from the back of the group gathered around the piano. “About time,” she called out to Devanney, her age-deepened voice interrupting the recital. “Barbara, enough of that tedious plunking. It’s time to play cards.”

A true musician, Barbara didn’t falter or stop, but new color stained her cheeks. Her chin quivered. Miss Elizabeth laid a consoling hand on her shoulder. Cassie shot the duchess a disapproving glance.

“Barbara!” Eleanor trumpeted when her daughter didn’t come to heel.

Annoyance flickered across Cassie’s face. “A little patience, Your Grace,” she said in a loud whisper. “Lady Barbara has almost reached the piece’s end.”

Eleanor gawked at being so boldly accosted by a mere knight’s daughter. Devanney choked on a laugh. Approval swelled in Lucien. There weren’t many women with courage to confront a duchess. Most of those in this room trembled at the social harm the powerful duchess might do them should they dare.

“Shall we game, my lord?” Egremont prodded then led the way to the tables.

Lucien followed, shooting yet another look over his shoulder at Cassie. She watched him in return. When their gazes met she bit her lower lip and turned in her chair.

That she couldn’t keep her eyes off him only fed Lucien’s desire for her. If he needed to play like an ass and lose twenty pounds to Egremont in the next fifteen minutes so be it.

Cassie turned forward in her chair again, her heart pounding. Part of it was irritation at the duchess’s rudeness, the other was Lucien. Dinner had offered her plenty of time in which to lament her sad want of sense in agreeing to their wager. With his every glance Lucien told her that it wasn’t just a kiss he wanted or expected from her.

Why hadn’t she simply swallowed her pride and asked him to give back what her father had taken? Suffering his pity would have been far better than him believing her loose.

Seated next to Cassie Lady Ross leaned close. She was a nervous woman with pale brown curls and a tendency to hold her folded hands mouse-like at the center of her chest. She whispered, “Well done, Mrs. Marston. We’re all so accustomed to Her Grace’s rudeness that we forget to hold her to her own standard.”

Seated on Cassie’s other side Philana leaned forward to look at Lady Ross. Her plume, held in her hair by its diamond-studded clip, bobbed as she nodded. “Now do you understand my excitement over my niece’s visit, Margaret? Having her and her family staying with me this summer is such a boon. That house of mine has felt terribly empty since,” she broke off when moisture gleamed in her eyes.

Guilt crashed down onto Cassie. She and her family weren’t staying the summer. They’d be fortunate if they managed to linger the full two weeks of the party.

Lady Barbara brought her piano piece to its conclusion without further interruption. When the final sweet notes echoed into silence Eliza clapped in approval. Philana, seated next to Cassie, did the same. Others joined them.

Lady Barbara acknowledged their appreciation with a shy smile and gathered up her play book. Mr. Percy rushed to join Eliza. The dandy, one of Eliza’s new admirers, leered, his face framed between his exalted collar points. “Miss Elizabeth, would you consider playing for us?”

“Heavens no,” Eliza retorted with a laugh. “I should seem dross after Lady Barbara’s glittering performance.”

Cassie gave thanks that Eliza was no ninnyhammer. She’d never give men like Mr. Percy more credit than their due. Eliza knew that dandies like him were far too vain to let their affections expand past the tips of their own toes.

“Here now, Sir Roland.” The spangled young man pulled Roland closer to the piano. “You must convince your youngest to play for us.”

Roland looked old and faded tonight even in his evening attire. “You must heed her refusal, I think. Our ‘Liza’s fingers tend to betray her, but she’s quite the thrush. Why not ask her to sing?”

Cassie eyed their father in surprise. So did Eliza. Neither of them realized Roland had ever noticed Eliza’s talent at singing. To the best of Cassie’s knowledge this was the first time he’d ever so much as spoken of his daughter in public.

Lord Ryecroft’s younger brother, a lad of fifteen, ambled over to join them. Lady Ross’s daughter, a girl about Eliza’s age, followed him, bringing with her two female friends. That caught the attention of the other young men in the chamber and a group began to form.

Eliza laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t ask me to sing, at least not now. I’d much rather something more active. Has anyone an idea?”

“What do you say to a stroll under the night sky?” Mr. Percy asked, offering just the sort of expedition Eliza enjoyed. “It’s not every night that Scotland offers a sky clear enough to see the stars.”

Excitement blossomed on Eliza’s face. “Why that sounds lovely, doesn’t it?” She looked to the young people gathering around her. “If one of you has a spare neckcloth we might even play hoodman blind.”

That elicited an explosion from the others, some seconding Eliza’s suggestion, others offering substitute games. Dismay darkened Mr. Percy’s face, suggesting that he’d hoped for a more intimate amble than the sort Eliza planned. Still, he was a good sport and joined the others in their anticipation of the adventure.

“Come with us, Aunt Philana,” Eliza called. “We’ll need someone objective enough to call faults when we play our game.”

“Of course,” Philana said.

“Might I escort you, Lady Forster?” Roland asked.

Philana blinked in surprise, but was too-well mannered to refuse. “There’s a capital idea, Sir Roland,” she said, taking his arm.

“Will you come with us, Cassie?” Eliza stretched out a hand to her sister, forgetting in her exhilaration Cassie’s purpose at this party.

“I think not,” Cassie replied. Knowing of no way to remind Eliza without telling the whole room their secret, she said, “Traces of last night’s headache remain and I fear the night air may exacerbate it. I don’t want to miss our ride to the abbey on the morrow.”

Eliza’s pleasure dimmed. “Perhaps I should stay with you?”