A Gentleman's Wager (6 page)

‘I’m not really interested in another round,’ she said quietly, placing her cards face up on the felt. There was no other polite way of excusing herself. Surprisingly, he didn’t object.

Louisa unwrinkled her forehead, relieved if a little confused. ‘Charles?’ she said, and turned her head to find his gaze transfixed upon the abundant cleavage of a young woman, whose neckline was so low and rounded that her rouged nipples showed as she leaned forwards to take a seat.

Well, that explained why he wasn’t interested in her
any
more. She couldn’t and wouldn’t compete with that display.

‘I’m going,’ she said, and pushed back her chair so that it grated against the polished floor.

Charles grunted affirmatively. ‘All right, Millicent can take your place,’ he said, not even giving her a farewell glance as she forced her way through the crowd. Louisa snorted in disgust, not sure who she was more offended by: Charles for his lack of courtesy, or Millicent for her obscene dress.

‘Do you always go everywhere in a rush?’ a soft male voice asked when she reached the hallway.

Louisa came to a sudden halt. She turned her head curiously, trying to locate the owner of the voice. Beneath the shadowed archway of the stairs stood the man who had stopped her on the landing earlier that evening. She took a moment to look at his clothing – dark-blue velvet and silver-figured silk – before she crossed to where he was leaning against the wall.

‘Marquis Pennerley, your servant,’ he said, and lifted her hand to briefly press his lips to her skin. The contact was warming. ‘I believe I owe you an apology. Taking advantage earlier was rather cruel of me.’

‘Yes,’ said Louisa, boldly meeting his eyes, only to find herself taking a step backwards, shocked by the intensity of his gaze. He stepped a fraction closer, parting contact with the wall against which he’d been leaning.

‘Will you allow me to dance with you later, to make up?’

Louisa fumbled for her dance card, too aware of his gaze on her skin and how he was causing her to flush. He looked at her as if he could see into her head, and hence knew exactly what she’d been thinking and feeling as he’d held her earlier.

‘Um, I’m free whenever you wish. Nobody else has asked me yet.’

‘Excellent, then I’ll book you for those two,’ he said, and tapped his index finger to the paper. ‘Third and fourth.’ Suddenly his shoulders stiffened, and he drew himself up to his full height to peer over her shoulder. Louisa watched his eyes narrow thoughtfully. Suddenly curious, she twisted to see what he was looking at, only to have her attention drawn straight back as he turned abruptly on his heels and strode away.

Louisa frowned in confusion at his retreating figure, and wondered if he still wanted to dance. She hesitantly scribbled in his initials then thrust the paper into her pocket.

‘There you are,’ said Bella, and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Have you seen Lucerne?’

‘No. Have you seen Frederick?’

‘He’s outside with Joshua, bobbing for apples in the fountain. Are you all right? You seem a bit bewildered.’

Louisa drew her gaze away from the direction in which Marquis Pennerley had gone. ‘I’m fine. I’ve just been asked to dance, but you seem to have scared him off.’

Bella gave her a delighted grin. ‘I have? Who was it?’

‘Marquis Pennerley?’ Louisa replied, and then chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. ‘He’s quite handsome, but rather intense. I’m not sure what to make of him. I think my aunt would hate him.’

Bella frowned. ‘Your aunt hates everyone. Dance with him if you want to, but he was really rude to me earlier and Lucerne acted as if that was normal.’

‘He was quite polite to me.’

The admission only made Bella’s frown deepen. ‘Then I guess Marquis high and mighty Pennerley has heard
that
you’re an heiress, which is why he’s speaking to you. I’m obviously too lowly to bother with.’

‘Perhaps.’ Louisa didn’t think he seemed that shallow, although two brief conversations with him had given her little to go on. However, she didn’t want to spend the evening discussing him. ‘Look, there’s Lucerne,’ she said, spotting him near the dining room. ‘I’m going outside to find Frederick. I’ll see you later.’

For a moment, Bella watched Louisa weave her way through the sea of ball-gowns, and then she turned towards the dining room and started after Lucerne. He was trapped between the vicar and three of the five Elliott sisters, and looked as though he’d be grateful if she rescued him from their clutches. The elder Miss Elliott was making big doe eyes at him, while her youngest sister was surreptitiously trying to tug the bodice of her dress down to expose more bust. Bella was only three feet away when Lucerne extricated himself and sneaked into the relative safety of the stag parlour.

‘Lucerne,’ she called after him, but he didn’t hear her over the noise of the guests. ‘Damn!’ she hissed, reaching the doorway, and slapped her palm against the frame. Stepping over the threshold was out of the question, so she’d just have to wait until he came out. She sank against the wall and impatiently crossed her arms, cursing the Elliott sisters to spinsterhood.

‘Come on, Lucerne,’ she muttered under her breath every few seconds and glanced hopefully at the exit. ‘What are you doing in there?’

It was at least five minutes before the door opened. She managed to get a glimpse into the room over the shoulders of the two men who left. The interior was dingy and full of curling pipe smoke that seemed to
hover
like low clouds over the heads of the occupants. Even on the threshold, the thick woody taste stuck in her throat, making it dry and ticklish. No wonder they drank so much brandy.

‘Do you think you could move over? You’re blocking the door.’

Bella turned sharply to find Marquis Pennerley eyeing her suspiciously. If he hadn’t brushed past her so rudely earlier, she’d have moved aside, but she didn’t feel she owed him that courtesy. At least not until he said please. She stood her ground, returning his haughty stare until she saw his lip curl.

‘What are you, captain of the guard?’

‘No.’

‘Then please move aside.’

Bella lifted her foot as if to acquiesce, but paused mid-step. ‘If you’ll do something for me.’ She glanced over her shoulder, then back at Vaughan, who drew his dark eyebrows together. ‘Lucerne’s inside; he asked me to meet him here. Would you tell him I’m here?’

‘If I must,’ he said coldly. Bella stepped aside and let him pass.

‘It’s hardly a hardship,’ she mumbled to his back. ‘Annoying prig, strutting about like a peacock.’

Lucerne emerged from the smoke. ‘Bella,’ he said, throwing a concerned expression in her direction. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No, but you promised to spend some time with me this evening.’

The concern faded from his face and was replaced with a smile. ‘So I did, but I saw you with Louisa a moment ago and didn’t want to intrude.’

‘She’s gone outside to find Frederick.’

Lucerne pursed his lips again. ‘Right,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘Then
I’d best keep my promise. Do you want to dance, or shall we find a quiet corner?’

Louisa followed the narrow path through an archway cut in the hedgerow, towards the sound of voices and splashing water up ahead. She turned a corner to find hanging lanterns spilling warmth over the ground by the fountain, lighting the faces of cheering onlookers and making rainbows on the slippery wet cobblestones. Many of them were soaked; one buxom young lady’s dress was so wet it was transparent and drew more competitors than the apple-bobbing. She spotted Frederick and hurried towards him. His hair was wet at the front, and he was drying his face on a towel.

‘I won,’ he said, and handed her his apple. ‘Where did you go? I couldn’t find you anywhere.’

‘You’re the one that vanished.’

‘Only into the hall. Someone told me you were outside.’ He passed the towel on to another contestant and then drew her further into the shadows. ‘Let’s go down to the river, we can be alone there.’

Louisa opened her mouth to refuse – this was just the sort of thing her aunt constantly warned her about. Then she remembered nobody was watching her. ‘All right,’ she agreed as her pulse began to quicken with anticipation. Frederick took her arm and escorted her across the lawn. Louisa stepped warily into the tree line, conscious of him treading patiently behind her. They emerged on to the river-bank just as two swans glided past. Frederick clasped her about the waist and pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.

‘At last,’ he murmured as she twisted in his arms and looked up expectantly at him for a kiss. ‘I’ve been waiting all week for this chance.’

Louisa met his tongue with a sudden hunger as his
hands
moved possessively over her bodice. Beneath the satin her skin felt incredibly sensitive, so that her nipples rasped against her stays, begging to be kissed, just as they had the night she’d watched Joshua and Emma in the old green armchair. But twinned with that thought came the memory of Joshua’s rampant phallus dipping mercilessly between Emma’s thighs, and suddenly the eager pulse that had started between her thighs seemed like a warning. The apple she held fell to the ground with a soft thump.

Frederick clasped her buttocks in his large hands and pulled her closer. She felt his erection against her abdomen. Its heat branded her, while its pressure frightened and intrigued her.

‘Slow down,’ she begged.

Frederick sucked in his next breath. ‘Louisa,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t want to take advantage. But Jesus, you feel good.’

Louisa looked up and saw that his pupils were wide and dark.

‘You don’t know what you do to me,’ he whispered. He unconsciously brushed his palm against his loins, and Louisa’s gaze followed the movement. After seeing Joshua, she thought she had a fair idea what effect she was having. In fact, part of her desperately wanted to touch him, to trace the length of his hard shaft, but she hardly dared. Perhaps he would think her too forward. Instead, she settled for pressing herself hard and fast against him, yearning for something and hoping he’d show her.

‘Miss Stanley,’ a voice called from the lawn. Louisa jumped and stared at Wakefield. Her heartbeat thundered against her ribcage.

‘It’s all right, Louisa. Just keep still,’ Frederick reassured her.

‘Miss Stanley.’

‘It’s Marquis Pennerley,’ whispered Louisa.

Frederick nodded. ‘I know. Just keep still, he’ll go away.’

‘But I promised him a dance. I ought to go.’ She pulled away from Frederick’s embrace, and shivered as she realised how cold the night air had become. He followed her out from the trees.

‘Captain Wakefield was showing me the swans.’

‘So I see,’ Vaughan replied with a hint of boredom. ‘You promised me a dance. I hope you’re not going to let me down for a few birds.’

‘Oh no, of course not,’ she said. She tried not to look embarrassed, despite the high colour in her cheeks and the obvious sparkle in her eyes. Something told her Pennerley knew exactly what they’d been doing. Relinquishing her grip on Wakefield’s hands, she accepted his. ‘Is it time already?’

Frederick watched them depart in annoyance, then wandered over to the fire that burned on the lawn.

‘Never mind, Wakefield. Here,’ Joshua soothed, and passed him the port bottle. ‘You can’t win them all.’

‘Tell it to that prize bastard sometime, will you?’

‘Surely. Who is he?’

Frederick spat the cork into the fire. ‘Vaughan, the Marquis of Pennerley. She’d promised him a dance,’ he said sarcastically.

Joshua smiled politely, none the wiser. ‘Bad luck. Next time, eh?’ he said, and patted Wakefield’s shoulder. Then he turned to Miranda Hayes and asked, ‘Shall we join them?’

Wakefield scowled. ‘I’ll join the card table, then.’

‘Yes, do, Milli’s there,’ purred Miranda. ‘She’d love to have you.’

THE DANCE WAS
a lively gavotte, popular enough to draw a crowd on to the dance-floor. Louisa skipped, stepped and kissed her partner without enthusiasm. She would gladly have changed places with any of the envious ladies around her, if Marquis Pennerley had permitted it. She tried to show an interest in him, but her gaze kept drifting across the room to the card table.

Wakefield and Aubury faced off, watched by a small crowd of friendly hecklers impressively fronted by Millicent Hayes, who had already lost heavily to Charles. They bet on several rubbers while cards changed hands quickly. Charles began to sweat heavily as the game progressed and he frequently stopped to mop his brow. Wakefield was about to strip him of most of his ready cash.

Back on the dance-floor, Louisa and Vaughan completed their solo parts and rejoined the circle. As they danced the final steps, Louisa’s gaze again moved to Frederick. Charles, grumbling and red-faced, abruptly quit the table. She watched Frederick scoop up his prize money and hand some of it to the woman at his side, who was leaning close to him. She immediately threw her arms about his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

Louisa felt a sudden cold jolt. Her perspective narrowed to where he lingered in the woman’s embrace, and she muddled the next few dance steps then came to a halt. She looked around in confusion, then fled the floor pursued by a tumult of emotions.

A firm hand caught her wrist; she glanced sideways and met her dance partner’s open-faced concern. ‘Leave me,’ she pleaded. Vaughan shook his head, and wordlessly led her into the deserted drawing room. He found her a chair and she collapsed gratefully into its arms.

‘You appear to have had a shock,’ Vaughan speculated. ‘A drink will help you recover.’

Louisa pressed her palms to her eyelids to seal in the tears, and sighed. She felt slightly sick, almost faint, and wanted to be alone, but she didn’t want to rebuke his kindness. She took two sips of the port he brought her, then changed her mind and drained the glass. The sticky sweet liquid numbed her sense of betrayal.

‘More?’ he enquired.

Louisa followed him to the side-table and watched him refill the glass, which she drained quickly. ‘Thank you.’ She tried to say more but her voice failed her.