Almost Perfect (7 page)

Climbing into bed, she pulled the counterpane to her chin. Eliza rolled onto her side, sighing in her sleep. Cassie closed her eyes, ready to embrace defeat.

Determination refused to die. She couldn’t leave her precious sister alone and impoverished, vulnerable to men like Lord Bucksden.

But, expose her shame to Lucien? Impossible. There had to be a way to get the money back without having to do either.

Gambling.

Cassie started out of sleep with that word clear in her mind. If she wanted her money back from Lucien Hollier, all she had to do was win it from him. But in order to gamble, a player had to have something to ante. What would she offer?

The memory of Lucien’s face alive with appreciation for her as they waltzed last night rushed over Cassie. Stretching herself awake, she smiled at the thought of his expression if she were to offer herself, the way her father had anted Eliza. She wouldn’t, of course. She wanted both her twenty pounds and Lucien’s respect. But what could she offer?

Wrapped in the close darkness within the bedcurtains, she frowned in thought. A dance or a stroll? She grimaced, certain Lucien wouldn’t be interested in risking money on something he could have for free. She shook her head. It was just a matter of time before she discovered it.

Filled with reborn hope, she reached to Eliza’s side of the bed, searching for her sister. The mattress was empty. Startled, she threw open the curtains only to be blinded by afternoon’s bright light. She’d slept through the morning.

The room was quiet, but it looked as if a whirlwind had raced through it. The wardrobe was open, one of Eliza’s dresses thrown over a door. Another lay in a careless pile on the floor. Two pairs of shoes, one of them belonging to Cassie, had been tossed out of the wardrobe. Ribbons of blue and violet were strewn across the top of their trunk. Cassie smiled. Eliza’s wild touch.

Scanning the room a second time, she noticed a torn corner of paper shoved between the dressing table’s mirror and its frame. Cassie crossed the room to take the note. Eliza’s hand was bold and forceful, lacking any girlish curlicues.

We’ve gone to walk the park. I had to borrow your bonnet. Aunt Philana says there’s one for you to use in her room if you’re up in time to join us. Take heed! Your bonnet is much improved with that bright yellow ribbon of mine.

Cassie smiled, almost hearing Eliza’s voice as her sister declared Cassie’s bonnet improved. Eliza didn’t hold with the notion that a widow should shun bright colors. She’d been trying for months to get Cassie to exchange her bonnet’s dove gray ribbons for something brighter.

Rising, she went to the window and looked down into the earl’s garden. Just as Eliza promised the house guests strolled about the park in twos and threes. A fine lily pond not far from the house had collected a small crowd of admirers, one of whom was Philana. There was no mistaking her bonnet; a mass of curling gray plumes sprang from its band. Wearing a paler shade of lavender today, Philana ambled along the pond’s shoreline a little ahead of Eliza.

Cassie recognized her sister’s yellow-striped gown and short brown jacket. Striding alongside Eliza was a soldier, with a tall, black hat trimmed in gold braid. Colonel Egremont. His short, dark blue jacket, the gleaming gold braid on his shoulders, his pale blue pantaloons with their golden stripe offered startling contrast to his black as night boots.

The colonel had his gloved hands folded at the small of his back, but he leaned his head near Eliza. His attitude screamed of intimacy, or at least the desire for intimacy. The possibility of Eliza’s heart being broken lent even more urgency to Cassie’s already frantic purpose. The sooner she had her money back from Lucien, the sooner she could get Eliza to America and into her new life.

In reaction to her thoughts Cassie’s gaze dashed across the gentlemen on the lawn. She didn’t expect to identify Lucien, not with all the men except the soldiers dressed in the same, tall hats, brown tailed coats and fawn breeches. Yet, Cassie’s gaze locked on a lone gentleman making his way back toward the house against the tide of guests strolling deeper into the parkland.

Lucien. She wondered how she could be so certain then decided it was the aggressive set of his shoulders and the swift forceful way he moved. But if Lucien was reentering the house while so many guests were still strolling then it was the perfect time to catch him for a private moment. All she needed was a moment in which to offer her unorthodox wager.

But she’d only have her precious opportunity if she was quick about dressing, and he took his time doing whatever he intended within doors. In that case what Cassie needed was Philana’s maid, Betty, to tie her corset and hook her gown.

Dashing water on her face, Cassie ran a hasty brush through her hair but left it loose. Not eager to traipse about Ryecroft Castle in her dressing gown even if the occupants were all out-of-doors at the moment, she went to the wardrobe and chose her garments for the day. Unlike Eliza, Cassie couldn’t bear chaos. She lay her petticoat, small corset, stockings and garters in a neat row along the bed’s end.

Pulling on her drawers, she returned to the wardrobe to don her green-sprigged day dress and slip her bare feet into her shoes. Then, with her shawl over her shoulders to hide her loosened attire assuring at least the appearance of decency, she opened her door.

And, came face-to-face with Lucien.

“Oh!” she gasped, not certain which to do first: gather up her hair, pull her shawl over her bodice to hide lack of corset, or reach behind her to hold her dress closed.

Lucien carried his hat and gloves in one hand. His honey-brown hair tumbled in careless disarray about his sun-browned face. His clear gray eyes were cool. If he noticed her dishabille there was no sign of it in his expression.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Marston,” he said, offering a small bow.

“Is it afternoon already?” Cassie stuttered, wholly unnerved at being caught in such a state.

“It’s well past noon,” Lucien assured her, his tone that of amiable disinterest.

Cassie stared at him. Who was this cool stranger, and what had happened with the warm man who’d waltzed with her last night? That man would have teased her for rising so late while leering at her state of dress. Mortification tore through Cassie as she considered the only probable explanation for his change. Roland had spoken to him even though she’d forbidden it.

She was doomed.

No, she was free. She no longer had to worry about keeping Lucien’s respect. That made her stomach ache.

“At breakfast this morn, your sister and Lady Forster said you ailed. I hope I find you recovered,” Lucien was saying.

“I am,” Cassie lied. Respect or not, how was she supposed to offer Lucien a game to win back her twenty pounds when he was now so disinterested?

Lucien stepped to the door directly across from hers and put his hand on the latch. “Madam,” he said, indicating he was finished with their conversation.

As Eliza’s future dissolved before her eyes with Lucien’s distant behavior, Cassie acted without thought. She turned her back to Lucien, lowered her shawl to her waist and pulled her hair to one side, then looked over her shoulder at him.

“My lord, I cannot find my maid just now. Could you fasten my hooks?” she asked, speaking so swiftly that her voice sounded thready to her own ears.

Lucien froze in front of his door. Cassie watched his gaze trace the slender length of her naked back from her waist to her nape. The terrible coolness in his expression melted. Heat again burned in his icy eyes when he raised his gaze to meet hers.

Trapped in place by her need to save Eliza, Cassie burned in shame then roasted again in a slow, knee-loosening, heat-making pleasure that came from knowing he gazed upon her naked flesh. She gave a shaken sigh.

The sound freed Lucien. “Happily, madam,” he said, a new hoarseness in his voice.

Dropping his hat and gloves next to his door, he crossed the corridor. As he pulled the two sides of her gown closed across her back his bare knuckles brushed her skin. With his touch some of Cassie’s sense returned. Was she out of her mind?! If she did manage to convince him to game with her he’d never accept a mere dance or stroll as her stake after this. More to the point with each hook he fastened, hooks that Betty would have to reopen for Cassie to dress properly, her opportunity to propose that game narrowed.

A tress of hair slipped down her back. Lucien caught it then let it slide between his fingers. Cassie shivered, cursing herself for wanting so much more of his touch.

Oh bother. There was no room for regret now that the milk was spilled, and naming herself an idiot wouldn’t put twenty pounds in her purse. With nothing left to lose it was time to propose a wager.

Never in his life had Lucien been more grateful for Devanney’s nagging. If not for his cousin’s harping about the idiocy of looking for a wife when he was just out of mourning, Lucien might still have been in the garden. How much better to be in this corridor, his fingers brushing Cassie’s naked back.

He breathed in her rosy scent. The smell ate up his resolve to avoid her from last night. Instead, his senses overflowed with her nearness, and her bareness.

Dear God, but he wanted to press his lips to her nape. He lowered his head a little, taunting himself with the prospect.

His longing only worsened as he worked the hooks at the middle of her back. Somehow, he hadn’t taken Cassie as the sort of woman who went without a corset. It wasn’t that unusual. A good number of society’s well-bred women, including his own sister, went without one. However, none of those women inspired him to reach around and cup their unfettered breasts in his hands.

Yet another tress slid from the mass of golden hair she’d pulled over her shoulder, tumbling down the length of her back. It was more temptation than Lucien could resist. He caught it, this time bringing it to his lips, savoring its silky smoothness and the smell of roses.

“My lord, I came to Lord Ryecroft’s house party anticipating the card playing. My father is unwilling to open his purse so I might wager,” Cassie said.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucien asked, too far gone in desire to fully comprehend what she said.

“I said I haven’t any money with which to wager.” The new tension in her voice caught his attention. “Against that I wondered if you’d consider a game with me and an unconventional wager.”

Some part of him registered that her question had to do with gambling and wagers. Not that he cared. All that mattered was that he had only a few hooks left to fasten and her shoulders were taut. That meant the instant he finished she’d raise her shawl and back away from him when he most definitely didn’t want any space between them.

“What sort of wager did you have in mind?” he asked, more to keep her where she stood than out of any interest in her request. He finished the last hook. Just as he expected she jerked her shawl in place and pivoted, backing toward her door.

“I’d like to offer you a stroll, calling its value two pounds.”

His interest more than piqued, Lucien studied her. Light from the window at the corridor’s end touched her face, marking her cheekbone and the regal lift of her brow. Her brown eyes looked as warm and rich as chocolate. Lord, but he liked the sultry way her lips curved.

“That’s an expensive walk,” he replied, wondering if she had anything more alluring to offer.

Disappointment danced in her eyes, then faded. “I suppose you’d say the same about a dance?”

The movement of her mouth as she spoke was mesmerizing. It wasn’t a dance he wanted from her, but something far more intimate. “I think I must.”

“What would you consider an acceptable stake in a game between us?” She nipped at her lower lip, waiting for his response.

A game between them, a wonderful, exotic game. Desire lapped at Lucien the way the ocean washed over the beach. His eyes closed halfway. His attention wouldn’t shift from her glorious mouth.

“A kiss,” he said.

Yes. A kiss. That’s what he wanted from her. That’s what he needed. At that moment if she’d asked him to stake his entire estate against a chance to kiss her he’d have willingly done it.

“Oh,” Cassie breathed, warm color staining her cheeks. She pressed a hand against her throat and stepped back again only to collide with her door. It swung open, giving Lucien a good view of a chamber strewn with feminine frippery. The chaos only made the neat line of garments on the end of the bed all the more noticeable.

His gaze caught on the corset. The memory of last night and the waltz returned; with it came the feel of boning against his hand as he held Cassie. She didn’t eschew corsets.

He glanced at her feet. They were bare inside her shoes. Of course they were. Her stockings lay on the bed’s end.

Then, what was she doing out here in the corridor naked beneath her gown, pretending she needed his assistance to finish her toilette?

What else, but seducing him? Knowing that she wanted him the way he wanted her sent Lucien’s longing to have her almost past containment.

“This was a mistake,” Cassie said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Oh no. She’d desired him enough to play temptress. He wouldn’t let her courage fail her now, not with the need to again run his fingers down the length of her spine tormenting him.

“You said you wished to play cards,” he crooned, playing spider to her fly. “The stake is nothing more than a single kiss. Barely improper.”

Again, she nibbled at her lower lip. Dear God, but he wanted the chance to do that for himself. She shook her head. “I can’t.”