His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) (26 page)

“Forgive me, Your Grace, I should have made introductions before this. Might I introduce, Mister Evan Beaumont? He hails from Warwickshire, and with him is my friend, Lord Beaconsfield. Lord Beaconsfield is Bess’s cousin.”

“Indeed,” Mallory said. “I have heard about you, Lord Beaconsfield.”

“All good, I trust?” Raleigh asked.

“Indeed,” Mallory answered, enabling Elizabeth to finally release the breath she had been holding.

Thank goodness Mallory hadn’t let jealousy get the better of him when it came to Raleigh. He was acting like a proper gentlemen, and he fit into this stiff world, filled with rules of etiquette, just as easily as he fit into the relaxed world of Captain Rafe Morgan.

She hated herself for ever doubting him. Hated herself for thinking so lowly of him. He was a duke. He fit the role well—the question was, could she fit into his world as his duchess? She wasn’t so confident of that now.

“Beaumont, Beaconsfield, this is, as you both probably already realize, His Grace, the 8
th
Duke of Chichester.”

She remained silent, and then waited for Mallory to make the next move. “Well, there he is now.” Mallory looked as if he had just sucked an extremely sour lemon.

Elizabeth turned around, and felt her mouth go dry at the sight of her father.

“Looks as if my Uncle Geoffrey still likes his steak and kidney pies. Good God, I always forget that he’s built like a bloody bear,” Raleigh quipped. “’Course now he sort of resembles King Henry VIII in his later years, don’t you think, Beaumont?”

Elizabeth snorted, and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and betraying herself to everyone in the club, for she didn’t think her laughter sounded at all masculine.

Mallory had taken his leave, and looked to be intent upon confronting her father. She couldn’t let him do that…they were so close, he couldn’t blow it, not now.

Now came the moment for her to shine like a brilliant gemstone, and reclaim the only thing that truly mattered to her.

“Your Grace,” she called out.

Mallory stopped. He looked inclined to ignore her, as he had yet turned about to face her. After a few more tense moments, where she almost chewed her upper lip bloody, he turned and walked back toward her.

Ronald and Raleigh still stood by her sides, and she drew on their strengths. Had they not been there, there was no telling what her welling panic would have caused her to do. She stifled her nervousness, and wondered at the irony of it all. She was more afraid here in the safety of White’s, than she had ever been out on the perilous High Seas.

“Yes?” he said, in his deep voice. God, how she adored him. How desperately she wanted him to realize that it was her…that she had come to help him!

She still could not believe the way that Mallory looked and behaved. She would have never guessed that he was a sea thief, for he stood regally tall, and his manners were above reproach. For a moment or two, she found herself actually wondering if he was the man that she had fallen in love with.

“You must wager everything. I feel quite sure of victory this night, sir.”

“Confident, eh? Well, I shall take you at your word, but be forewarned, Beaumont, I shall not be a happy man if we lose everything, and you do not want to see me in high dudgeon.”

They settled themselves at a gaming table, and Elizabeth had a moment of pure panic when she was introduced to her father, who was partnered with the man he usually paid to be his partner when in England, Sir Hugo Jones.

Raucous shouts, cheers and jeers surrounded her, as other men made their bets, and either lost or won. She felt certain that he was going to recognize her, but he didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, thank heavens.

Why, he was even more of an insufferable prig than she had originally supposed. As she accepted her cards, she found herself unconsciously glancing at Mallory out of the corner of her eye. She had sorely missed being next to him. She bit down on her lower lip, and sighed.

He turned a quizzical eye on her, but said nothing. She was so intent upon studying her cards, that she did not even notice the strange way that his eyes had gazed at her. She was bound and determined to claim victory over her father.

Her father, on the other hand, believed that he truly was playing with Mallory. She yearned to whisper some words of encouragement into Mallory’s ear, but knew that then she would risk giving herself away.

Before they started playing, her father cleared his throat, “Why not add a bit of excitement to this game. Why don’t we play the game of whist that is more popular across the pond? I propose we play bid whist, and all rules for bidding shall be swept aside? What say you? Shall we just make the bids, and winner takes all, eh? Of course, Sir Hugo won’t take any of the winnings, he plays for sport, don’t you know.”

She looked over at Sir Hugo. She knew the man was either being paid by her father, or at some point in time, had made a foolish bet with the man and lost, and so was therefore relegated to being his playing partner for the foreseeable future.

She’d been anticipating this kind of unorthodox play, and this was probably the game that her dear papa had played against Morgan St. Martin.

“That sounds agreeable,” she said, desperately trying to keep her voice low, and concealed from her father. “I, too, am here only for the fun of it. I shan’t be taking any of the winnings.”

“Capitol. So what shall we be laying bets on?” Geoffrey Woodward asked, staring at Mallory with his beady little eyes.

“I shall be betting on everything that you stole from my father,” Mallory’s voice was cold, so cold that Elizabeth wanted to shiver.

“Your Grace,” she said, her voice only slightly wavering, as he turned to look at her. “I do not want to overstep my bounds, but perhaps you should ask for some compensation as well. Say, all of his properties in England, not to mention about two hundred thousand pounds, and his daughter,” she coughed, and stared down at the tricks that had been played already. She had a winning hand, now all that she had to hope was that Mallory would go along with her.

What she’d asked for was a pittance as far as her father was concerned, but he’d be bloody pissed to lose his estates in England. He loved each and every one of them. Finally, he would feel the pain that Mallory had felt because of him.

He stared at her in open-mouthed amazement.

“What’s this, eh? What are the two of you whispering about?”

She groaned, and kept herself from smiling. Her father was losing his hearing, and she knew that it had to be driving him mad not to know what was going on.

“If you throw that bet in, you will soon find that everything will be yours, to have and hold, for the rest of your life. I will stake my life on it.”

Mallory’s eyes flashed with blue fire, and then, he turned back to her father.

“Since you didn’t hear old man, I will tell you. I want everything you own in England. And I would like your daughter. I desire to make her my duchess.”

“Now see here, young man,” Geoffrey muttered.

“You shall address him as, Your Grace,” Elizabeth snapped. She wanted to get up from where she sat and walk over to him and give him a good slap across the face. Instead, she remained seated, and prayed for patience.

“Your Grace, then,” her father repeated. “I have some lovely properties here in England that I won from your papa, and a few others that I purchased myself. I even bought old lands of my dear Papa’s, after my stupid older brother ran them into the ground. I shall not give them over to an upstart like you, St. Martin. You don’t deserve them. You were, only the spare, weren’t you?” he asked snidely.

She gave her father a dirty look. When he used that as a means to insult Mallory, he was also insulting himself, as he was the spare to the heir. 

She could see that that last remark had raised the ire of Mallory, as shocked gasps echoed around them. If she didn’t intervene, Mallory would wring her father’s neck, and he’d never win his lands back.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but you aren’t giving them over. His Grace shall have to win them first, and to win against you, he’d have to be quite clever indeed.”

Her father grumbled for a bit more, and then, let out a large sigh. “Fine, then. Have it your way, boy. But I shall be the one left laughing when all of this is said and done. I honestly do not know why I am worrying so much. It isn’t as if you shall win, anyway. Now for my bid. I want your sisters and mother out of your damnable ancestral castle, Chichester Castle, posthaste. I would like to make a gift of it to my daughter, and when I win, you shall not ever clap eyes on my daughter again. Is that quite clear, sir?”

“Quite,” Mallory said.

“I want your solemn vow, boy. I do not know what you mean to my Bess, but I will have an end of it, right here and now. Upon your soul, do you give me your word?”

“I do,” Mallory said, fire blazing in his eyes.

She had to win now…she couldn’t forfeit Mallory, not when they were so close to having everything.

Her father was too arrogant for his own good, and she prayed that would be his downfall. He would soon find that his world was about to be ripped right out from underneath him. He revealed his last trick, with a smarmy grin.

Elizabeth’s heart had stopped for the briefest of moments, but as soon as she saw her father’s card, she knew that she had finally outfoxed the fox. “I would not be getting too cocky, sir, for I do believe that my trick trumps your trick.” She carefully placed her card face up on the deck, and watched as her father’s face fell. His house of cards had finally fallen. He looked quite undone. He rested his eyes on her winning card, and then he began blustering. “It would seem, Your Grace that you can walk away from this table a winning man. Congratulations to you, sir,” she said heartily.

“Thanks to you, I can.” He smiled at her, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

She leaned over toward him, and whispered in his ear. “You asked me to teach you how to win, Mallory. Well, if you do not know now, then, I fear that I will never be able to teach you.” She smiled at him, and placed her hands on the table. He remained motionless, and she wondered if he had even understood what she had said.

Her papa was working himself up into quite a temper and, as she pushed herself to her feet, she couldn’t help but hope that he would just disappear.

When she turned to leave the table, Mallory was asking for the deeds to his properties. Oh, he was quite the land baron now. His family would never have to worry about money again. His legacy was secure.

Her job here was done.

Smiling, she made her way through the throng of assembled men. They nodded at her as she passed, with looks of admiration, and some clapped her enthusiastically on the back.

She had finally triumphed, even if she had not succeeded in winning her heart’s desire. She stumbled past the rest of the men, and somehow made it out of White’s. She nearly tripped down the steps, and took a moment to catch her breath.

Ronald followed her. “Be…Beaumont, wait for me.” He dashed down the steps, and stood with her. “You look rather pale, you’re not going to faint are you? I’ve had my carriage summoned, and I shall take you home, posthaste.”

“It’s all been for naught, Ron. I failed—oh how I failed,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.

“You bloody well didn’t…you gave your papa a good thrashing—one he soon won’t forget.”

“That’s not what I meant. Oh, Ron,” she sighed heavily. Raleigh had followed her and stood next to Ron.

“What a show! That was wonderful, cousin. Come on, Bess, you look rather peaky,” Raleigh said. “I will take you home.”

She gripped her walking stick tightly, and stared up at the street lanterns. Raleigh was right. She had to get back to her townhouse before her father could reach it—or else he would discover what she’d done. She’d have to pack up what she could, and retreat to a house that didn’t belong to her father—now she knew why her grandfather had left her part of his fortune. He had wanted her to be independent. She smiled despite herself. His love had been pure…what she had from her father? She wasn’t certain about that.

She heard someone pounding down the steps behind her, and let out a startled exclamation when that someone grabbed a hold of her arm, and pulled her around. Speechless, she stared at Mallory. He raked his eyes over her, and they were full of hungry desire. The same friends of Mallory’s that had been with him at the Hazard table followed him out of the club.

“Did I hear you right, Elizabeth?” His question was spoken so quickly, that she nearly did not catch it.

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart still racing.

She blinked against the oncoming tears, which always seemed to be plaguing her. She dropped her gaze to the street, and then looked up when she felt his hand on her chin. He gently tilted her face up, so that he could drink her up with his eyes.

Elizabeth stared over his shoulder when she heard a familiar voice. Groaning, she stepped away from Mallory, and turned around when she saw the look of fury on her papa’s face. Had he realized who she was, and the part that she had played in tonight’s scheme?

“St. Martin, I want my property returned to me, right this instant,” he bellowed.