Gambling on a Scoundrel (20 page)

Tempy's jaw dropped as she looked up at the imposing building. "
This
is one of your properties?" She took his proffered hand as she stepped out of the carriage.

"Yes," he said. "I assume it meets with your approval?"

Tempy grinned at him. "How could it not, with a view like this?"

There was a general flurry once they entered the house. The servants seemed both excited and nervous that Lucien had arrived. The housekeeper showed Tempy and Millicent to their adjoining rooms, while Lucien remained downstairs, conferring with the butler.

The deep-gold curtains at the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tempy's bedroom were thrown wide, letting the sunshine stream into the room, and someone had set a cheery fire in the limestone fireplace to drive the chill from the room.

Tempy rested her hand on the burnt-orange fringe at the edge of the curtains and peered out over the common, soaking in the view of the open, grassy area and the trees and city beyond it that seemed to fall away into to the river below.

At the soft knock at the door, Tempy turned away from the window. "Come in," she said.

Millicent entered the room, smiling broadly at Tempy. "I'm so glad we came. I think we'll have a wonderful time. But we need to remember that this trip
does
have a purpose."

Tempy looked at her blankly. Between Lucien's revelation about his title and the opulence of this house, everything else had been driven from her mind. But now she remembered. "Of course. Ernest."

"Yes. There was a message waiting for me in my room. I asked a friend to send me news regarding Ernest's accommodations here in Bath. It seems that he arrived last night with Clarisse's family, and they are staying at a house near the circle we passed through. Unless their plans change, Ernest and Clarisse will be walking right past Lucien's house this evening on their way to dinner at an address over in the Marlborough building."

"Walking?" Tempy smiled indulgently. "That sounds like my Ernest. He loves to walk whenever he's able. But how can you be so sure they'll be on foot?"

"I can't, but even if they take a carriage, they're certain to drive past here."

Tempy nodded. "Who would want to miss this view? I think we can count on them taking this route."

After they freshened up, Tempy and Millicent located Lucien and outlined their plan.

Lucien sent Boothby to reconnoiter, and presently a message arrived from him. Yes, Mr. Lipscomb would be leaving at precisely seven o'clock that evening, and yes, he and his fiancée planned to walk to their dinner engagement.

"How does he do that?" Tempy asked, not really expecting an answer.

Lucien chuckled. "That's why I wanted to bring him with us. That young man has a talent for this sort of thing. Sometimes I think he knows what people will do even before they've decided to do it. It's uncanny."

Millicent looked startled. "You aren't suggesting he reads minds, are you?"

Lucien laughed. "No, nothing like that. He's simply observant, and he's also quite good at chatting up other people's servants."

Tempy tucked that bit of information away to use later. A man like Boothby could be quite useful in certain situations. Such as the one she found herself in right now.

Rather than positioning herself to watch the street on the ground floor, Tempy chose to move upstairs, which afforded her a better view. Since the road was curved, it was easy to see all the way to the spot where Ernest would appear. Shortly after seven, she spotted him as he and that horrid French woman turned onto the Royal Crescent. Tempy did a little jig and then sped down the stairs toward the marble entry hall.

In her rush, Tempy turned on the slick marble floor a bit too quickly, and her heel nearly slid out from under her. Fortunately, she still had hold of the banister, and she kept herself from falling, but the incident reminded her to slow down. How did that saying go again?
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost, for want of a rider, the kingdom was lost?
It would be foolish to lose Ernest over something so trivial. She slowed her pace and entered the main salon, where Ernest and Millicent awaited.

"They're on the street," she announced. "They should be here within a couple of minutes."

They had debated over the precise location of the
accidental
meeting, and they finally agreed that it would be best to have Ernest see them exiting the house. That way, he would be unlikely to think Tempy had followed him to Bath. But the plan required precise timing.

Millicent stood and donned her ostrich feather hat. "This should help him identify us," she commented. Apparently she was aware of how distinctive her hat made her. Tempy had wondered about that.

A moment later, they heard a sharp knock on the front door. It was Boothby's signal that the couple was nearing the entrance.

Millicent took the lead, with her ostrich feather fluttering as she moved. Tempy and Lucien followed her out the door. Tempy slid her hand around Lucien's arm as they moved out onto the sidewalk. She carefully kept her gaze directed toward the ground because she wanted Ernest to find her, and not vice versa.

She wasn't disappointed.

"Mrs. Kidman?" Ernest asked. "Is that you?"

Tempy held her breath.

"Mr. Lipscomb!" Millicent cried, evidently delighted to see him. Tempy fervently hoped her friend didn't ruin everything by overacting. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. I had no idea you were in Bath."

"Nor I you. What brings you here?"

"I'm escorting Miss Bliss," she said, stepping aside so that Tempy was now face-to-face with Ernest.

When Ernest's gaze met hers, his jaw dropped. "Tempy?"

"Mr. Lipscomb? What on earth are you doing in Bath?" She shot him a look filled with suspicion. "This is quite a coincidence. First Hamlin House and now this? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were..." She left the words "following me" unsaid, but nonetheless, Ernest turned a bright shade of red.

"Uh, yes. I mean, I see."

"And I must remind you, please remember to call me Miss Bliss. I believe your fiancée might also prefer that you do so."

Ernest glanced at Clarisse, and although the woman continued to smile, her eyes narrowed fractionally as she examined Tempy.

Lucien must have noticed as well, because he smiled at Clarisse and bowed slightly. "Enchanté, mademoiselle."

Tempy glanced up at Lucien and was startled by the admiring look he was giving Clarisse. He was throwing himself into the role with entirely too much enthusiasm. Surely everyone would see through his ruse, wouldn't they? And that Clarisse person! Tempy could swear the woman was simpering at him. Between Millicent's reaction at seeing Ernest and Lucien fawning over Clarisse, Ernest was certain to see through their little scene.

Tempy clenched her teeth and smiled. "How pleasant to see you, Miss Beaumont. Are you touring our country?" she asked, hoping to underscore the other woman's foreignness.

"But it will soon be my country too," she replied. Her sharp little teeth were bright when she smiled.

Detestable woman.

"There's nothing quite like England," Lucien said, saving Tempy from saying something she might regret. "Of course, there's also nothing quite like France. I love them both."

"When you return to London," Clarisse said, "you'll find some news waiting for you. But it will keep." She smiled at that, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"What brings you to Bath?" Ernest asked.

Tempy dragged her thoughts away from the self-satisfied expression Clarisse wore to reply to Ernest. "Lucien invited me and Millicent for a visit. It was very kind of him, wasn't it? I've never been to Bath before." Why on earth did Clarisse look so smug?

"I didn't know you wanted to come here," Ernest said, sounding defensive. He cast Lucien a peevish look. "I would have been happy to bring you."

"Would you?" Tempy cocked her head to one side. "How odd that you never offered."

"I-I suppose I always thought of you as a Londoner," Ernest stammered, "like your father. He hated to travel."

"Yes. Strange for a man who owned railroads, wasn't it?" She locked gazes with him, almost daring him to glance away as the seconds ticked by.

Lucien cleared his throat. "I can't tell you how pleased I am to be able to introduce you to more of England," he commented. Ernest glanced at him with a slightly bemused expression "It's a joy to travel with someone who is uninhibited in showing their delight with the world." Lucien took her hand and tucked it around his arm, giving it a possessive squeeze as he gazed down at her.

A small thrill of pleasure traveled through her at his words of approval. Lucien always knew exactly what to say.

"Miss Bliss, whatever are you doing in Bath?" a man said.

Tempy glanced down the street to see who was speaking and spied a heavyset older man with a full white beard bearing down on them. "Mr. Trevor," she said, startled to see the president of the Bliss Railways' board of directors. She automatically tightened her grip on Lucien's arm, but then forced herself to relax it. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you as well. Are you here on holiday?"

"No. I'm here on business. I assume that means you didn't read the memo I sent out two days ago." He looked irritated with her, which was typical. "We're having some problems with our Bath line and I've come to oversee things personally."

Tempy frowned. "But Mr. Shane is in charge of the Bath office. He's handling negotiations. I've always found him to be extremely competent."

Mr. Trevor let out a harrumph of annoyance. "I suppose that means you plan to interfere."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Trevor, but it appears that you are the one planning to interfere. I may only be a shareholder..."

"Let's not mince words, Miss Bliss. As the majority shareholder, your influence is significant."

"I was attempting to be diplomatic, Mr. Trevor. But in response to your earlier statement, yes, I read your memo. I responded as well. Did you not read it?"

Trevor flushed. "And did you read the additional memo I sent out regarding the issue of your notoriety? These newspaper articles about you must end. They reflect poorly on Bliss Railways."

"What's this?" Ernest interrupted. "You know those articles are filled with nothing but half-truths and conjecture. Our Miss Bliss is nothing like the person Earl E. Byrd portrays in his articles."

"Our Miss Bliss?" Clarisse repeated in an icy tone.

Ernest frowned at her. "Tempy has been like a member of my family for years."

"Mr. Trevor," Lucien interrupted, "are you suggesting that you believe Miss Bliss is to blame for what Mr. Byrd is writing? Because that strikes me as a rather harsh point of view. Anyone who knows her realizes that his stories are false."

Bright patches of color crept up from beneath Mr. Trevor's white beard. He might have looked jolly if not for the anger darkening his eyes. "My primary concern is for Bliss Railways."

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "But since Miss Bliss owns the majority of shares, shouldn't her well-being also be your concern?"

Mr. Trevor froze for a moment and then smiled tightly, looking as though his face might crack from the strain. "Of course you are right. Please accept my apologies, Miss Bliss." He took her hand briefly and dipped his head in a movement that resembled a bow.

Tempy nodded, feeling slightly bemused by Mr. Trevor's sudden capitulation. She was so used to being at odds with the man that she wasn't quite sure what to say.

"If you'll excuse me," Mr. Trevor said, "I have an engagement to keep. Good day."

He hurried off down the street without a backward glance.

"I never liked that man," Ernest muttered as he stepped forward, casually pushing his way between Tempy and Lucien.

"Truly?" Clarisse commented. "I found him rather sensible." The look she pinned Tempy with was pointed. Clarisse ignored the looks of surprise the others sent her way. She focused only only on Tempy, and her cool gaze seemed to take in Tempy's growing irritation with satisfaction.

Ernest didn't comment, but instead turned his back on Lucien and peered intently down at Tempy.

As if on cue, Lucien and Millicent both began speaking with Clarisse. It was difficult to tune out their conversations and focus on Ernest.

Millicent said, "Surely you found him a bit overbearing."

Tempy's chest tightened as Ernest leaned closer to her. "You seem different these days," he murmured into her ear. "Entrancing. There's a fire in you I've never seen before. What happened to you?"

Tempy glanced at Clarisse and wasn't surprised to see the woman glaring back. Clarice flushed with anger and then turned her attention back to Millicent. "Not at all," Clarisse said. "I found him most level-headed."

Tempy gave Ernest a coy look and spoke softly as she replied, "Am I really different, or are you just looking at me with fresh eyes?"

"Didn't you find his attack on Miss Bliss a bit harsh?" Lucien asked Clarisse.

Ernest reached out and took Tempy's hand. "Why do I keep seeing you with this Hamlin character? I don't think I approve of him."

Apparently Clarisse noticed them holding hands because her eyes flew wide and she looked as though one of her corset strings had just broken. "Ernest, we must be going." Clarisse darted forward and wrapped her hand around his arm, tugging him closer. "We'll be late."

Ernest snapped his head toward Clarisse in surprise. It was almost as though he'd forgotten she was there. He dropped Tempy's hand as he stepped away from her. "I'm sorry to hurry off, but we have an engagement we must keep."

"And it's always important to keep one's engagements." The words were out of Tempy's mouth before she could stop them, and she wished she could snatch them out of the air and shove them back into that deep hole of resentment from which they'd been born. But it was too late for that.

Lucien propelled her forward as he tipped his hat. He kept his head upright and facing forward, but under his breath he said, "Are you trying to sabotage yourself?"

"I know," she muttered. "The words just popped out before I could stop them." Then, she felt the quick surge of anger. "But what about you? What was that?"