Chapter Three #2
She hadn’t made the mistake of inviting him again. The only reason to ask him along the first time was because showing up unescorted was problematic.
But now she had Gormley and he was enough to deter anyone from bothering her; not that being bothered was much of a concern. Delmore’s was a fairly respectable house—as such things went.
Alicia told herself she’d only brought Gormley as a deterrent, but that was a bald lie. She found the massive, reserved man interesting. Indeed, she found him too interesting.
Her body, in particular, appeared to find him most interesting. She shivered at the memory of his powerful hands on her side—and breast.
He’d moved like lightning and lifted her onto the seat with an ease that had sent heat arrowing to her sex. It had been—
“I understand you’ll be staying in town all winter, Lady Selwood.”
Alicia looked up from her lustful musing to find the Honorable Ronald Skipton looking at her. She wanted to ask him how he knew about her private business, but guessed the source was most likely Byerly.
She nodded at the dealer who gave her another card. It was a four, which brought her to twenty.
“I’ll stick,” she said, before turning to Skipton and saying, “Yes.”
He looked nonplussed at her brief and very uncommunicative answer and then opened his mouth.
The Duke of Beckingdon, a man famous for his hatred of small-talk at the card table—one of the main reasons Alicia enjoyed playing with him, the other being he was a fine card player—cleared his throat and glared at the younger man.
Skipton shrank back into his chair and the play continued in silence.
Alicia could not see Gormley as he stood behind her, beside the door where he could keep an eye on her but not assist her playing—although nobody had dared suggest such a thing.
She felt a brief pang of remorse—no doubt he would rather be sitting somewhere with his big, bent nose tucked in a book.
The play continued deep for the next hour.
Skipton threw in his cards and shook his head as a new banker came to their table. “That’s it for me, too rich for my blood.”
Beckingdon merely grunted and turned to Alicia, his obvious dismissal of the younger man causing Skipton’s face to burn a fiery red.
The duke smiled at her, a rare, and rather ghastly sight with his yellow, snaggled teeth. “I read about your triumph in the last paper from New York, Lady Selwood. Congratulations.”
Alicia smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She could guess what was on the wily old bird’s mind.
“What triumph is that, Becky?” Lord Grimsby asked, his hands trembling with a palsy Alicia had heard was from syphilis.
“Lady Selwood had enough foresight to purchase land from Albany, New York to some lake in the back of beyond. Coincidentally, the same route as the new canal that is to be built.” The duke didn’t take his eyes from her.
Grimsby barked a laugh, signaling the hovering waiter for yet another brandy. “Lord, a canal? What the devil for? Selling goods to savages?”
The other two members of the table, men Alicia had never played with before, chuckled. But the duke did not.
“It is some three hundred and sixty miles in length, is it not?”
Alicia smiled. “Three hundred and sixty-three miles.”
The duke’s eyes kindled and Alicia knew it was not for her smile. The man needed money, just like every other aristocrat in Britain. “I should love to hear more about this engineering feat, Lady Selwood.”
“You must come to dinner sometime, Your Grace.”
“Her Grace and I will be staying in the city over Christmas.”
Alicia almost laughed at his blatant invitation. She could just imagine the reaction of his high-stickler wife when she learned she would be dining with Lady Selwood.
“I am having a dinner party Christmas Day; you would honor me with your presence.”
“Here then, what’s this?”
Alicia sighed at the sound of the slurred, familiar voice that came from behind her. The duke looked over her shoulder, his habitual frown back in place. He grunted and turned back to the table.
Alicia looked up to find Byerly beside her, and none-too-steady. He stared at her through bleary eyes and then nudged the man who’d taken Skipton’s seat.
“Move over, Kingston, I wish to sit next to Lady Selwood. It’s been ages since we’ve last chatted.”
“Byerly,” the duke barked.
All heads turned to the duke.
Beckingdon had upgraded from a frown to a scowl. “This is a card table, for playing cards. If you wish to chat I suggest you pay morning calls. No doubt my wife would be thrilled to oblige your chatter.”
The others laughed outright and even Alicia bit back a smile.
Charles flushed and looked uncertainly from Alicia, to the banker, who was studiously avoiding the viscount’s eyes. Alicia could guess what that meant: Charles had already outlived his welcome—and his credit—at Lord Delmore’s tables.
Charles stared at her, as if expecting her to offer to frank him.
“Well, are you in or out, Byerly?” Beckingdon demanded testily.
Byerly crossed his arms. “I believe I shall just watch for a while.”
“Fine, see that you do so with your mouth closed.”
Alicia continued to win, as did the duke, which helped to ease his frown. Charles, on the other hand, became more and more restless and when the table broke for supper he hovered, waiting for her. But Alicia had had enough.
“I’m finished for the evening,” she told the duke, who appeared to be waiting to take her in to supper, also. How awkward.
The older man shot Charles a filthy look and then nodded, taking her hand and bowing over it. “You are a superlative player, my lady and I enjoyed it. I shall see you at Christmas.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Alicia and Charles watched him walk away and then Alicia gathered up her winnings. Charles eyed her money with embarrassing desperation.
“Here, Charles,” she picked up his hand and placed the roll of flimsies into the middle of his palm, closing his fingers around it. She collected her reticule and nodded to Gormley, who stood by the doorway, watching and waiting. She took a few steps toward him but Charles’s hand stopped her.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and then puckered his lips and leaned toward her, as if to kiss her.
She recoiled. “Never in public.”