Gambling on a Scoundrel (36 page)

Then she realized that this plan wasn't something she'd ever want printed below the banner of a newspaper.

Tempy pushed the worry from her mind and tried to focus on something that would help distract her. Her thoughts returned to her trip to Bath and Porlock.

And to Lucien.

She felt a twinge of excitement. He'd be there tonight. At the casino.

Distracting Clarisse.

Tempy frowned. She wished she hadn't needed to pull him into this. She knew he'd help, of course. After all, he'd promised. But even so, seducing a woman he hardly knew must be...be what? Distasteful? Difficult?

She tried to imagine him with Clarisse, but she simply couldn't. Her mind wouldn't allow her to picture them together. Her fists clenched, and she realized that her train of thought was making her feel worse.

The carriage pulled to a halt in front of the casino. Relieved at the chance to escape her musings, Tempy flung open the door before anyone could assist her and hurried inside the casino.

Although she was greeted warmly by the staff, she sensed an undercurrent of tension. Something was definitely wrong. At first, Boothby wouldn't meet her gaze as he escorted her to Lucien's office, and she could see the tension in his jawline as he clenched his teeth. He pushed open the office door and ushered her inside.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, turning to face him in the empty room.

"Did you know?" he murmured without looking at her.

"Know what?"

He turned his gaze to her now. "Did you know that Mr. Hamlin was selling Hamlin House? The new owner takes over tomorrow." When she didn't answer, he nodded and looked away. "You did. I can see that. Why didn't he tell any of us?"

"I'm sorry. My guess is that if he didn't tell you, it was because he didn't want to worry any of you in case nothing came of it."

"So, instead he catches all of us off guard? How is that supposed to be better? Everyone here feels betrayed by his announcement. This is just like what happened with Squire Formsworth. He kept information from me that I had a right to know."

Tempy touched his forearm. "I'm sorry to hear that. I suppose that means that he finalized the sale?"

Boothby gave a terse nod. "He announced it just an hour ago. After tonight, Mr. Snowden will be running the place. Does he even know the first thing about running a casino?"

"I've known Mr. Snowden for a number of years, and he's a good man. He was an army colonel, and from what I hear, his men had a great deal of respect for him."

"Well, that's something, I suppose," Boothby said, sounding slightly mollified. "But he'd better not come in here and order us about as though he's still in the army, that's all I can say."

Tempy felt a pang of sympathy. It must be terrible to be caught by surprise by such a fundamental change. After all, Lucien had been the heart and soul of Hamlin House since he'd founded it. "Mr. Snowden is a very nice man. It's hard for me to imagine that he would make this a difficult place to work." Tempy wondered briefly about Boothby's hopes of becoming a valet, but decided that this wasn't the moment to broach the subject. He was already so upset by what he saw as a breach of trust that she didn't want to raise such a sensitive subject. She hoped Lucien and Boothby could resolve the rift between them.

Boothby said nothing, but simply gave her a brief nod before he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Tempy glanced around Lucien's office, wondering if she'd notice any changes, but everything looked exactly the same. You'd never know that someone else would be using this office after tonight.

The door opened behind her, and as she turned at the sound, Lucien walked in. He must have already known she was there, because he didn't seem surprised by her presence, but he didn't really look at her either. He kept his gaze averted.

Tempy took a sharp breath at the sight of him in his crisp, black frock coat and gray trousers, and she felt her pulse quicken.

Nerves. She hadn't been alone with him since that day on the steps outside John Snowden's home.

She watched him as he crossed the room, noting his smooth and graceful stride and the glass of amber liquid in one hand. Whiskey, she assumed. Tonight his waistcoat was an elegant silvery gray. It was more subdued than usual, but it still had that personal flair that distinguished him. But there was something in his eyes that caught her attention. He seemed troubled. Could it be because of the casino? Was he regretting his decision?

"Is everything all right?" she asked, crossing the room to move closer to him.

He glanced at her, finally focusing his attention on her, and he took a sip of whiskey. His eyes seemed to light up at the sight of her, and his tension eased. "You look lovely tonight. A sophisticated, graceful lady. He won't know what hit him." The smile that followed seemed forced.

"You like it?" she asked.

He tilted his head to one side and examined her a little more closely. "You shine like an evening star. But something's missing."

"Missing? What's missing?"

Lucien moved around to the far side of his desk and set down his whiskey glass before he leaned over. When he stood back up, he was holding a carpetbag. After he set it on his desk and opened the catch, he dug through it, searching for something. He extracted a dark blue velvet box, and set it on his desk with a flourish.

Curious, Tempy moved closer. "What's that?"

"Just the thing." He released the catch, allowing the spring lid to pop open, and lifted a glittering object that moved like liquid ice in his hands. "It was my mother's," he said, "and I'd like you to wear it tonight. For luck."

Tempy's breath caught at the sight of the necklace and her hand flew to cover her throat. "I couldn't possibly. What if something were to happen to it? What if I lost it?"

"It's a necklace. It's meant to be worn. It deserves to have an evening out after being hidden away in this box for so many years."

Silly man. Tempy smiled at him. "It deserves a night out? Do you often believe that inanimate objects have rights and feelings?"

"I tend to reserve those for people, but it seems such a shame for you not to wear this." He moved around the desk to come closer. "Perhaps it isn't the necklace I'm speaking of, but you. Perhaps you are the one who deserves to wear this necklace."

There was an intensity in Lucien's gaze that made Tempy tremble. She had to look away.

Lucien stepped behind her and draped the diamond necklace around her neck. The metal of the setting was cool against her skin, but Lucien's hands were warm as he worked the catch. He seemed to be having trouble because she could feel his touch linger for a few seconds. The warmth he radiated swept through her. Just as her skin began to tingle from the prolonged contact with his hands, Lucien stepped away.

He spun her around to face him. "Perfect," he said.

Tempy's smile trembled on her lips. What was happening to her? A sudden and intense sense of doubt swept over her. How could she be feeling such strong emotions for Lucien while planning to seduce Ernest? What was she thinking?

Lucien stared at her mouth for a moment, but then he abruptly looked away. He took her by the hand and led her across the room toward the mirror by the door. "Look for yourself. You're beautiful."

The diamond necklace glittered against her throat. Tiny stones were set in oval links, each link surrounding a large, round diamond. It shimmered with every breath she took, and the necklace almost looked alive. In that moment, she understood why Lucien had said that the necklace deserved to be worn. Shutting it away in that box seemed almost cruel.

"Thank you, Lucien. It's perfect." Not wanting to meet his gaze, she instead looked around the room as she tried to think of an innocuous subject to discuss. The carpetbag on his desk caught her eye. "I understand that you've sold the casino. Is that all you plan to take with you?"

"I keep few personal items here. And anyway, it's time to move on. I leave for Somerset tomorrow."

Her stomach sank. "I won't see you again?"

"Invite me to your wedding. I promise to be there."

Tempy felt a little sick to her stomach. "About tonight. I feel terrible about using you to distract Clarisse."

"No need. I made a promise to help, and I intend to keep it. After all, you've already kept your promise to me. The sale of my casino is complete, and I'm now free to pursue my new life."

"Are you certain you want to do this?" Tempy asked. Her hand went to her neck, and she traced the necklace with her fingertips. It now felt warm to the touch.

When she noticed that he was watching her hand, she dropped it to her side.

He looked away. "I'm certain," he said. "In fact, I think that it will serve as a sort of tonic. I need to move on and make a break from this life, and spending time with Clarisse will be a change of pace for me." He shrugged. "Plus, I very much want to help you recapture the life you always dreamt of. I know how much Ernest means to you, and how close your ties are to his family. I don't want you to lose that."

At that moment, Tempy envied Lucien. Envied his ability to face his future and let go of the past. It certainly would make her life simpler if she could do that as well. But she also knew what it was like to be alone. To have nobody. No family. She couldn't face that. Therefore, she needed Ernest, didn't she?

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Boothby opened the door just far enough to stick his head into the room. "It's time," he said curtly, and then shut the door with a click.

"It's time," Tempy echoed. She bounced on her toes a couple of times as she tried to generate some enthusiasm for what she was about to do, and then she moved toward the door. She and Lucien had planned to separate Ernest from Clarisse as quickly as possible so that Tempy would have as much time as she needed with Ernest. As long as Clarisse didn't insist upon staying by Ernest's side, things should go smoothly.

Lucien followed her out the door, and they quickly spotted the other couple.

Ernest stood next to the roulette table and when he caught sight of Tempy in her ice-blue gown, his jaw fell slack. He scanned her from head to toe, pausing briefly on the glittering necklace. She could swear that his eyes lingered for a moment on her cleavage. She'd used a slightly darker shade of powder, just as Mme Le Clair had shown her, to enhance the V, so she was pleased that her efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.

She was surprised, however, when a chip slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. She knew from his sister, Emily, that he'd promised his parents that he wouldn't gamble tonight, and it irritated her to see him breaking that vow.

Clarisse noticed his clumsiness and glanced around to see what had startled him. When she spotted Tempy, her smile froze.

Tempy smiled back. In fact, she beamed. With Lucien by her side, she headed directly for the couple. "Miss Beaumont, what a pleasure it is to see you again."

Clarisse smiled in return, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You must come here frequently."

Tempy glanced at Lucien and smiled at him before returning her attention to Clarisse. "So it would seem," she said, keeping her response intentionally cryptic.

"I read about you in the papers," Clarisse pressed.

"That happens to Tempy all the time," Ernest said. "There's never anything to those stories." But he glanced at Lucien. "Is there?"

"Of course not," Lucien said, almost dismissively. He smiled at Ernest, but then focused his attention on Clarisse. "One of my little informers tells me that you haven't been able to find a decent
terrine de pâté de campagne
since coming to England. Can I tempt you to try mine? It's a specialty of Hamlin House."

"One of your informers?"

"I'm afraid that's my fault," Tempy said. "Emily mentioned it to me, and since I knew Lucien prides himself on that particular dish here at Hamlin House, I mentioned it to him. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Clarisse said, her lips tight.

"I've arranged for our chef to make it tonight, in your honor," Lucien said.

Clarisse tipped her chin down slightly and then glanced up at Lucien. Tempy recognized the move as one Mme Le Clair had taught her. It made one's eyes appear larger.
Brava, Clarisse.

Separating Clarisse from Ernest was easier than Tempy had expected. It all went perfectly, in steps that almost seemed to mirror the dance steps of a quadrille. Tempy and Lucien had arrived in front of Ernest and Clarisse together, but in moments they had danced away with their new partners.

Clarisse willingly allowed Lucien to lead her across the room toward some small tables. At a signal from Lucien, one of the footmen quickly laid a table with a fresh white cloth and set the
terrine de pâté de campagne
on it with a flourish.

Tempy saw that Lucien's admiring glances appeared to salve Clarisse's bruised ego, especially when Tempy, following their plan, cast the couple a look of jealous rage.

When Clarisse noticed Tempy's anger, she preened and redoubled her charm. Poor Lucien wouldn't have stood a chance if the entire scene had been real.

Tempy and Ernest chatted about inconsequential things, but during their entire conversation, he kept his gaze fixed on her, apparently unable to look at anything else. Ernest seemed enthralled by her. It was all going according to plan.

Tempy shot Ernest a slightly embarrassed look. "I have some items I'd like to return to you. They're in my reticule." She glanced around, making her discomfort at talking about this in a public setting obvious.

Fortunately, Ernest picked up on her embarrassment and glanced around for someplace private where they could talk. After a moment, he led her into one of the little niches the casino provided for private
tête-à-têtes
. Long velvet curtains at the entrance to the niche were held back with gold-tasseled cords. Ernest pulled her behind one of the curtains so that her back was against the wall.

The velvet curtains muffled the sounds of the casino, providing them with a modicum of privacy. "I was surprised to see you with a chip in your hand tonight," Tempy said. Then she snapped her mouth shut. Why had she started off by criticizing him?