Chapter 6
Sudden Invasion
“That was an impossible shot,” Morgan protested.
“And yet,” Gerald replied evenly, “it was executed.”
He adjusted the cue with meticulous care over the immaculate green felt, the movement precise, economical. A clean strike. The balls scattered and settled exactly where he intended.
“I don’t know why I bother playing with you.”
“Because you persist in the delusion that improvement is imminent.”
Morgan chuckled and shook his head as he watched his friend make another impossible shot.
“Ok, I can’t attempt this sober,” Morgan poured them both some brandy and lit up a cigar.
Gerald was focused on the game carefully watching his next move, patiently lining his cue before managing to hit all three balls and set them up for his next move. He straightened his back and went for his brandy.
The door to the billiard room opened, and a group of younger gentlemen entered with loud chatter. When they saw Gerald, the prattle ceased. They looked at the table and then at him.
“Apologies, Your Grace,” the ringleader said. “We didn’t know you were playing.”
Gerald drank from his brandy, eyeing the men over the rim of his glass.
“Now, you do.”
Confusion and fear went over their faces as they scrambled to leave the room.
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” they left faster than they entered.
“You should have joined the army. You would have eyed the enemy to submission.”
“The Army requires taking orders.”
“Of course,” Morgan laughed. “You only take orders from your tailor.”
“The man is standing with sharp objects in private areas.”
Gerald lined up his cue again and focused on his shot.
“Speaking of private areas, how is the pursuit for Miss Arabella going?”
He missed one ball and straightened his body. He went for his brandy as Morgan very triumphantly leaned over.
“Well, had I known that all I had to do was mention the youngest Lambourne sister to see you lose a shot, I would have done so sooner,” he said and took a good shot. “So, what is the progress?”
“I got a marriage license.”
“That is why you didn’t come to the Parliament this morning? You went to inform Lord Lambourne and your… fiancé.”
At the word, Gerald’s fingers tightened around the glass. Miss Arabella was now tied to his name. The announcement would not remain private for long. By week’s end, the entire ton would know her name beside his. He drank a generous sip.
“I had other business. I sent Lord Lambourne a letter.”
Morgan missed his shot.
“You did what?”
Gerald picked up his cue and bent over the table.
“I sent him a letter.”
“You informed your future father-in-law of one of his daughter’s biggest moments via a letter. Was it too much to go over and announce it?”
“Yes,” Gerald took another shot.
“That is extremely cold even for you,” Morgan commented. “I hope Miss Arabella has enough warm coats.”
Gerald stilled again at the mention of her name.
“Speaking of which,” Morgan drew on his cigar, “how do you find Miss Arabella?”
Gerald missed his shot again.
“Oh,” Morgan said with glee, “this is getting very interesting. Who knew I never needed to improve, only mention a certain curvy, impressive young lady?”
Listening to his best friend commenting on Arabella’s body made him fist the billiard cue, made him want to hit Morgan instead of the balls. Instead, he calmed his nerves with brandy and watched as he took his turn.
Curvy. Arabella was that and more. He would have to be blind not to notice that voluptuous figure. He might have chastised her for taking her time walking to his table in Gunther’s, but he failed to mention how he enjoyed looking at her gracefully walking, her hourglass figure swaying a little.
He drank more brandy, but the only thing that did was take him back to her drawing room. Her smell was the first that lodged in his brain. Lilies. Not overbearing, just there, emanating from her skin. Her smooth, soft skin. He knew the feel of it very well.
He still couldn’t believe he crossed a line with a woman that he had just met. To be in a room alone with her was one thing. But he dared more. It was meant to warn her, to assert his control, show her that he was serious about his decision, that there was no escape.
Instead, her body, without consulting logic, instinctively arched to his. His famous control was tested. To see her this lost, the rush of heat through her body, not really fully understanding what she was offering, was almost irresistible. If he had touched more, he would surely find her… ready.
He emptied his glass, and yet it was not the brandy he tasted, it was her skin, that spot where her neck met her shoulder, tasting of something so sweet that Gerald couldn’t quite settle after that.
It took all his legendary restraint not to claim more, to taste more, to touch more. And if he was to be completely honest with himself, a delicious shiver ran up his spine to his core each time he thought of her, tempting him to-
“Gerald!”
Morgan’s voice dispersed the vision, away from a soft, fragrant world and into a smoke-infused billiard room.
“Your turn, Gerald.”
He handled the cue with barely stable hands and managed to hit all three balls.
Still, his mind was elsewhere. As he bent over to set the next hit, he thought about how it would be to have Arabella bent over like this, teaching her to play, her body so close, his hands guiding hers. He missed the hit.
“You are distracted! This is my night. I am finally going to-”
Morgan didn’t get to finish his words. The door to the billiard room opened, and a flurry of color and laughter rushed in. A group of entertainers was determined to take over all of the gentleman’s club, and that included the quiet space that Gerald and Morgan were occupying.
Gerald straightened; his back went rod-like at the sight of these frivolous women.
Morgan, on the other side, was quite thrilled to see the invasion, smiling at the girls with a wide smile.
He dropped his cue and approached the merry company that had already lured in the room, the same group of men that had invaded the room before, now emboldened.
Gerald kept his distance, looking from his spot in the room, sipping on his brandy. He saw that Morgan was completely devoted to being seduced by two women who were whispering in his ear.
He was ready to leave for the night when a daring blonde woman saw him standing in his corner, and her eyes went wide. She probably didn’t know who he was because she gravitated closer to him.
She strutted his way, eyes hooded, body swaying openly. Gerald felt all his senses go up in alert; his back went stiff, his eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened around the glass. He thought that the look he threw at that woman would deter her, but she was determined.
“My lord,” she said in a saccharine voice, “you are in need of diversion.”
“I am not.”
His tone was cold, sharp like a knife. He was also dressed in fine clothes, and the woman saw the money she could extract from him, so she became bolder. Her hand went to his arm, softly, seductively.
“Surely,” she leaned in, her perfume wafting to his nose, something heavy and irritating, “a gentle man does not come here for billiards alone.”
Gerald felt repulsion rise inside him, so he took one step back. He dropped his chin and looked at the intruder with a menacing look.
“I do not need to be told how to amuse myself,” he growled.
The woman probably did not value her dignity since, instead of leaving, she touched his bicep and pulled closer.
“Perhaps, you would like to go somewhere more private, my lord?”
Gerald felt disgust rise in him. He grabbed that insolent hand and removed it with such force that the woman took a few steps back.
“You presume far beyond your station,” he growled lowly.
Morgan ran over and helped her. He looked at his friend, then back at the startled entertainer.
“You must excuse my friend, he had too much to drink.”
Throwing one fearful glance at the Duke, the woman scurried away to join other, more eager company. Taking the hint, the little party left the private billiard room, leaving behind an echoing silence.
Gerald was still shaking with nerves and poured some more brandy. Morgan simply watched him for a while.
“What exactly was that? Have you lost your mind completely?”
“I am perfectly sane.”
“Act like it then! A beautiful woman threw herself at you, and you behaved like a brute.”
“As if I would ever trust such a woman.”
“Now you are just being paranoid.”
“And you are being na?ve. Or have you forgotten all the times my… family tried to ensnare me in a scandal? From bribing the papers to write disreputable things about me, to the attempt regarding Dowager Redwood. To name a few.”
Morgan looked at the door, the one entrance where the happy entourage had invaded moments ago.
“You mean…” Morgan couldn’t even finish his thought.
“It wouldn’t be beneath them to use such… women, for their purpose. Lady Redwood may have held a title, but she was deploying the same means to gain my attention, under my brother’s guidance. And manipulating that simpleton, Miss Eugenia, to find me unchaperoned at that ball.”
“I remember. You wiggled your way out of that one by the skin of your teeth.”
Morgan’s face softened.
“I am sorry this is happening to you, Gerald. It must be too difficult looking over your shoulder all the time.”
Gerald’s look hardened, and his jaw ticked at remembering all the times he had to fend off these attacks from his family. He hated being on the defensive. He wanted to crush them, eliminate this threat to his reputation.
“That is why I need a wife, Morgan. I need to secure the safety of my good name. I might be called ruthless, but that in business makes things easier and faster. But to be called a rake on top of it, that I cannot afford.”
“Miss Arabella is your shield.”
In her memory, her body is seized again; the unwanted touch of that entertainer was erased. As for Morgan calling Arabella a shield… She is more of a weapon right now, basically trained against him. A chuckle escaped him as he was reminded of her scheme the day of the outing at Gunther’s.
“Gerald, that is not a sound I have heard you make in… forever,” Morgan teased. “And I just noticed that you still haven’t answered a single question regarding Miss Arabella.”
“What exactly do you expect me to say on the matter?”
“I think I wouldn’t be called irrational if I were to inquire how the Sunshine of the Ton reacted to the absurd demand you made.”
“You mean my rational proposal,” Gerald warned.
“No, I am quite sure I did mean to say absurd demand for the simple reason that this was, in fact, an absurd demand, based on both your fathers’ intoxicated judgment.
I have heard of many different reasons for a couple to marry, from business deals to sports compatibility, but ‘our genitors had too much brandy and married us off at infancy’ has a unique ring to it, wouldn’t you agree? ”
“You are not the least funny,” Gerald said firmly.
“For the love of sanity, please tell me what Miss Arabella had to say on the matter.”
“You mean the Sunshine of the Ton?”
“I told you she is quite popular and well-loved.”
“I noticed,” Gerald scoffed.
“Noticed?” Morgan frowned. “How exactly have you noticed?”
Gerald sighed in irritation, took his brandy, and made his way to the armchairs near the fireplace. Morgan followed him.
“Miss Arabella thought it prudent to get to know each other better before the wedding,” Gerald relented to his friend’s curiosity.
“That will not fare well for you. The girl might well decide to run for the mountains before the wedding if she got to know you better.”
“On the contrary, she had the intention of sending me running up the hills.”
“I am not sure I follow,” Morgan shook his head. “Perhaps you should stop drinking. You might betroth your unborn children to honor your father’s methods.”
“I am perfectly sober,” Gerald hissed. “Miss Arabella proposed we had an outing. At Gunther’s.”
Morgan stood impossibly still, barely blinking.
“Speak, man,” Gerald said impatiently. “I can see you got opinions on the matter.”
“I do, I am just trying to picture you sitting in Gunther’s. You must have suffered.”
“Miss Arabella surely managed to make it amusing.”
“I told you, she is considered a very appreciated member of the ton.”
“Well, I will have you informed that the appreciated member of the ton,” Gerald said with as much sarcasm as his could, “ordered six ices, devoured, spoke with a full mouth, and used her hands as both a fork and a napkin. And wanted to talk about money.”
“Six ices, you say?” Morgan said, in total disbelief. “And she ate all of them?”
“Loudly,” Gerald said over the rim of his glass. “The smacking was quite memorable.”
“Miss Arabella would never. She is-”
“Determined,” filled in. “It was a ruse. To discourage me.”
“And were you? Discouraged?”
“Not the least. I did go for the marriage license.”
“You mean to tell me that she behaved in such an embarrassing way, openly choosing public humiliation over being married to you, and you still want to marry her?”
“Miss Arabella miscalculated the depth of my own determination.”
“Or your sanity.”
“I assure you I am being completely logical.”
“I am sure there has to be a dictionary lying around here. To redefine the meaning of words.”
“Miss Arabella is perfect for the role I have in mind. Her little scheme shows that she will fight-”
“Mostly you,” Morgan interrupted.
“And that she has backbone,” Gerald continued unfazed. “She will need it since she is about to face my family. And as for my reputation? It will be salvaged. After all, the Sunshine of the Ton decided to marry me.”
“Coerced,” Morgan coughed.
Gerald eyed him warningly.
“What I am hearing, my dear friend,” Morgan triumphed, “is that you met your match.”
At the words, Gerald drained his glass. If not his match, he sure found something entertaining. Her.