Gambling on a Scoundrel (21 page)

"What was what?"

"You and Clarisse. I thought you were about to swoon at her feet."

"I'm trying to build a rapport with her, just as I said I would. How can I drive a wedge between them if I haven't stirred her interest?"

He might sound logical, but that didn't mean Tempy had to accept such a weak excuse. "Well, stop being so overt about it. You'll scare her off."

Tempy heard footsteps hurrying up behind her, and then Millicent was at her elbow.

"It worked perfectly," she said, her voice breathless with excitement. "He kept looking back at you as you walked away, and Miss Beaumont was quite annoyed with him."

Tempy knew she should feel pleased with the outcome, but rather than feeling elated by the day's success, she could only feel her resentment toward Clarisse growing.

###

"Are you certain I should leave now?" Tempy asked Millicent as they joined Lucien for breakfast. "Shouldn't I push even harder now that I have him off balance?"

"Better to disappear and let his paranoia work against him. He'll be expecting to see you again in Bath, so let him keep waiting and wondering."

"I agree," said Lucien. "It will eat at him, and the lovely Clarisse will grow more and more frustrated with his distracted state."

Tempy's mood grew even more sour. The lovely Clarisse? "It seems she's gathering quite a few admirers."

"You mean me? That's ludicrous. I see women like her at the casino every day. They're nothing special, except perhaps to sheltered men like your Ernest."

"Then why are you and Ernest so enchanted with her?"

He paused in the act of raising a piece of toast to his mouth. "I can't speak for Ernest, but I am most definitely not enchanted with her. I prefer a woman more like you. Someone who is more straightforward and forthright. Someone who says what she means."

"Yes. That's me. Forthright. See how forthright I am in my pursuit of Ernest?"

He paused at that. "I think your behavior of late in your dealings with Ernest doesn't show the real you. It's simply a role you're playing. In fact, you might want to put some thought into how you will maintain this façade once Ernest comes crawling back to you. Because he will. Mark my words, he will."

Tempy shrugged. "I can keep Mary to help me with my hair, and now that I've learned these skills, they won't simply disappear. I'm certain I'll be able to keep most of the polish I've worked so hard to develop."

Lucien shrugged. "I'm certain you can, if that's the life you want. If that's the man you want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Perhaps you and Clarisse have more in common than I realized, because you both seem to want a weak-willed man to control."

"Ernest is not weak-willed." How could Lucien make such a quick judgment about him? They'd hardly spoken.

"No? Then why did he lose so much at my casino on his last visit?"

"What?"

"I extended him credit that evening. He even used your name to try to persuade me to offer it to him. He promised to pay me the next day, and he didn't. If he can't afford to lose money, he shouldn't gamble."

"Of course he can't afford to lose the money." Tempy could feel a deep flush suffuse her face and she wasn't sure if it was from anger with Lucien or embarrassment for Ernest. Perhaps it was both. "His father's a doctor, not some peer of the realm."

Lucien's face fell. "What? He's a doctor's son?"

Seeing his surprise mollified her somewhat, and her embarrassment for Ernest began to win out. "How is he supposed to pay you back?"

"I'm sorry, Tempy. I had no idea." He pressed his napkin to his lips. "How would you like to handle this? I only extended credit because I believed he was wealthy and because he said you'd vouch for him. I have no interest in becoming part of a conflict that will complicate your relationship with him. Nor do I want to fleece the man. If you like, I can forgive the debt and ban him from my casino."

Tempy shook her head. "Ban him from the casino? That seems extreme. He'd be humiliated. And I can't let you take over his debt. You've already done so much to help me. I wouldn't want his gambling losses on my conscience as well. Let me discuss it with his family first. I'm certain we'll come up with a solution."

"Then I'll leave it in your hands. I trust your judgment in this."

Tempy nodded, pleased by his confidence in her.

But what would she do about Ernest?

Perhaps it was just as well that she wouldn't see him for a few days. It would give her time to find a solution to this sticky problem.

Perhaps the trip to Exmoor was for the best after all.

19 - An Inauspicious Day

Or perhaps they'd both die of exposure. Tempy pushed a dripping strand of wet hair behind her ear and glared moodily at the dark sky.

FREAK RAINSTORM BANISHES BLISS

She shivered and leaned closer to Lucien.

The clear day that had greeted them that morning had lulled them into a false sense of complacency as they left Bath. Riding in a carriage with the top folded down had seemed like a grand idea.

But once they were away from the city, the day had turned on them with a vengeance. Clouds blew in from the coast, carrying rain.

Lots and lots of rain.

Every inch of Tempy, from her scalp down to her undergarments, was soaked. She shivered as water trailed from her sodden hair and down her back.

The pretty little cabriolet no longer held the same appeal that it had when Lucien had suggested he drive the two-seater to Exmoor. Tempy shifted to glare over her shoulder at the unmoving convertible top, which was furled behind her and provided no protection from the heavy downpour.

BROKEN CARRIAGE DAMPENS BLISS

"'Let's ride on ahead of the others. It'll be fun,'" Tempy muttered, mocking her earlier words. Right now, she wished she were curled up, dry and warm, next to Millicent in the slow, plodding carriage. The one with four wheels and a fixed top that kept out the rain. She could even be using the time productively, working on her article.

Tempy sighed.

"What did you say?" Lucien asked loudly, competing with the sound of the rain.

"Nothing," she shouted back, letting some of her irritation seep into her voice.

He shot her an inquisitive look, but she glanced away, ignoring him.

At first the drive in the jaunty, two-wheeled little cabriolet had been glorious. She'd rejoiced in the unobstructed view it provided with its top down.

Well, she'd had her fill of that view.

When the rain had threatened, Lucien had stopped to pull up the collapsible top, but the folding mechanism remained stubbornly immobile. No matter how hard he pulled and pried, it refused to move.

She'd tried pulling as well. She didn't care if it didn't look ladylike. Anything would be better than just sitting there getting wet. But the top was rusted firmly in place.

"I think I see lights up ahead," Lucien shouted to her now. "I think it's a town."

Tempy squinted, trying to make anything out in the heavy downpour. She thought she saw a dim light in the distance. "Maybe they'll have an inn or a pub where we can stop," she shouted back. "And if they don't, I'll bang on someone's door and beg for help."

Pressed next to Lucien to keep warm, she felt his laugh rather than hearing it. She thought he muttered, "I'm sure you would," but she couldn't hear him clearly and decided not to ask him to repeat himself.

Fortunately, she didn't have to resort to begging for shelter since the first two structures she spotted were an inn and its stables.

At least
something
was in their favor.

Lucien helped her jump down from the cabriolet. She landed solidly, but her first step landed her in a puddle that went halfway up her ankle.
It doesn't matter
, she told herself as her shoes squelched with every step.
It's not as though I can get any wetter
.

Lucien shouldered open the door of the inn, letting in a gust of wind as they both stumbled through it. The air inside was warm against her skin, but the feeling of welcome was shattered by a startled shriek.

"Ahh!" a woman squealed.

Tempy's gaze flew toward the source of the sound, and she saw a serving girl near the fireplace with both hands over her mouth. Her eyes were round.

The two men sitting next to the fire burst out in guffaws. "That'll teach ya ta listen ta ghost stories on a stormy afternoon," one of them said in a mock-scolding tone.

"Fetch some blankets," the man behind the bar shouted at her. "And be quick about it. These two are soaked through."

The girl scurried through a door and returned quickly with the blankets. She handed one to Lucien and helped drape the other one around Tempy's shoulders. Her eyes were wide as she watched them, as if she still wasn't quite certain that they were real. Tempy was tempted to say "boo" just to test her theory, but she managed to refrain.

The two men sitting next to the fire vacated their seats and offered them to the sodden pair. Tempy smiled gratefully and squished across the floor, drawn by the flames and their promise of warmth. Lucien and the barman followed, but the girl scurried away and disappeared through the door again. Given her propensity for screaming, that was probably for the best.

"My boy is stabling your horse." The man wiped his hands on his apron. "I'm Sanders, Will Sanders, and this is my place. We don't have any rooms right now, but you're welcome to sit by the fire as long as you like."

Tempy and Lucien both sat, and with Mr. Sanders's help, she scooted her chair as close to the hearth as she dared. She held her hands out toward the flames, fingers splayed to soak up the heat.

Mr. Sanders seemed like a genial host, despite the shrill reception they'd received from his serving girl. Tempy sensed that making them feel welcome was very important to him. That was always a good attitude for an innkeeper to hold.

"You look familiar to me," Sanders said. "I'm usually good with faces. Do I know you?"

Tempy glanced up and saw that he was looking at Lucien.

"No," Lucien said without bothering to break the gaze he kept locked on the flames.

Tempy noticed the muscles of Lucien's jaw tightening. This had all the appearances of being one of those moments when it would be best for her to change the subject. She gazed up at Sanders, doing her best to look wistful, and asked, "Do you think you could bring us a pot of tea," she glanced at Lucien and decide he looked as though he could use something a bit stronger, "and some whiskey?"

Sanders furrowed his brow. His renewed concern for the welfare of his guests seemed to push all other thoughts from his mind. "I'll add some water to the kettle. T'won't take long." But before he turned away, he gave Lucien's profile one last look. Then he left, rubbing his chin.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"What? Him?" Lucien shrugged. "He's just mistaken. That's all."

"You've never met him before?"

Lucien shrugged, but didn't respond.

Tempy narrowed her eyes. She didn't like the evasion. "You're hiding something. I can tell."

"Can you also tell that I don't want to discuss it?" he snapped.

Tempy jerked her head back in surprise. Fine. If that's the way he wanted to act, then so be it. She returned her gaze to the fire and studiously ignored him. He didn't have to confide in her. After all, what was she to him? Just an inconvenience, nothing more.

Still, his tone stung. Apparently her growing affection toward him was more one-sided than she'd realized.

The silence stretched between them, and Tempy noticed that the sound of the storm outside had altered. The worst of the rain seemed to have passed, and it had settled into a slow, steady drizzle.

Lucien cleared his throat, but didn't speak. Finally he glanced up. "Where is that innkeeper?"

As if on cue, Sanders pushed through the door leading to what must be the kitchen. He carried a tray laden with teapot, teacups, and two short glasses holding an amber liquid--whiskey.

Sanders set the tray down on a nearby table and then adjusted another small table so that it sat between Lucien and Tempy.

"The blacksmith looked at your carriage," Sanders said as he finished making his adjustments to the furniture. "He said it's a fine one, but hasn't been maintained in a while. He was able to loosen the accordion hinges on the collapsible top and clear away a great deal of the rust, but he recommends having it maintained more frequently." He sounded reproachful. Or, at least, as reproachful as an innkeeper dared to be toward a patron.

"I inherited it only recently," Lucien said. "It's been in storage."

"Well, if he left you anything else, you might want to check it over before you use it."

"That's excellent advice. I'll certainly follow it."

The innkeeper looked pleased with himself and returned to the bar.

The heat from the fire seeped its way into Tempy's flesh, and the tea worked its magic as well. Soon, she felt much better. Her voluminous skirts soaked up the heat, and she could see tendrils of steam rising from the hem closest to the fire. The only thing that would help more than sitting next to a hot fire would be to change out of her wet clothes. But that would have to wait until Millicent and the others arrived with the trunks. Of course, with their delay here at the inn, they might all arrive at Lucien's Exmoor estate at the same time.

Lucien cleared his throat, startling Tempy. He hadn't spoken to her since he'd scolded her for prying into his life. "Since the rain has let up and we now have a roof for the cabriolet, would you be willing to continue on our journey? We're nearly there."

"We are?" It seemed as if they'd been traveling all day, but when she checked the clock on the wall, she realized they had only spent a little over four hours on the road. "I'm in favor of leaving now. I'm looking forward to being completely dry again."

Lucien signaled to Sanders that they were ready to depart. After throwing a few coins on the table, Lucien picked up his whiskey, tipped his head back and tossed it down his throat in a fluid motion. He jutted his chin toward the tray. "Finish up your whiskey."