Chapter Eight
Jules tossed his kerchief aside and buttoned up his pants. He was breathing hard and a satisfying tingle lingered in his balls. But that was where the satisfaction ended. Meredith had taken off as though the Hounds of Hell had been nipping at her heels.
His head spun with confusion. They’d each found their pleasure. There had been no de-flowering, no coercion, so why had she left him?
He called out and then raced after her, but as he reached the staircase, the front door slammed with a thunderous bang that screamed stay away from me.
“Damn and blast.” He kicked at the banister. His emotions were tugging this way and that and he knew full well hers would be. Why hadn’t she stayed and told him how she was feeling?
Women were complicated creatures. This one in particular.
And he knew he’d be thinking about her for the rest of the day.
“Oh, just go after her.” He took several steps toward the front door to do just that but then stopped. Her umbrella was still angled against the wall.
She didn’t want him to go after her. Not now. She needed to work through what had just happened on her own. But that time would pass and then he would see her again.
Tomorrow, he had a chess lesson and an umbrella to return.
He wiped his brow—it was a little hot and damp—and then strode through to the kitchen. The scents of dinner hung in the air and he washed up in a basin and then helped himself to a large bowl of stew.
Once he’d eaten, he paced to each room in turn.
He was fractious in a way he wasn’t used to.
Meredith had gotten under his skin. She was different to any other woman he’d ever met, who mostly fell into the categories of aloof and distant or demure and boring.
Meredith had a mind and used it. If he were honest, certainly when it came to chess, she ran rings around him.
What else would she surprise him with as he got to know her?
What did she think of the Tory government? The Arctic expeditions? He knew full well she’d have opinions and he wanted to stay up all night talking about everything with her.
Unable to settle, he packaged up the Turner he’d picked up for Drake at the auction house. He’d deliver that, settle his debt, and get the thugs off his back.
He left the house and turned right. A rainbow arced over the chimney stacks and he smiled as a new sense of optimism gripped him. It wouldn’t be long until he saw Meredith again and then he’d assure her they’d done nothing wrong, nothing that other people who were attracted to each other didn’t do.
Because yes, he was attracted to her.
“Ho! Mr. Habsburg. I beg you to wait right there.”
Jules turned and his optimism burst like a bubble. The Duke of Marlborough was striding toward him, bushy eyebrows pulled low and jaw set tight. He wore a long, black raincoat and carried a pointed umbrella that still held sparkling raindrops.
“Good day, Your Grace.” Jules smiled broadly.
“Not yet it isn’t.” The duke stopped right in front of him, a little too close.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Jules gripped the painting, wrapped in brown paper and string, a little tighter. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.
“My daughter, sweet Eloise, has done nothing but shed tears since you muddied her good name at the ball.”
“How did I muddy her name?” Jules frowned.
“You know how.” The duke wagged his finger. “Everyone at the ball knew you were outside with her, alone, in the dark, on the private terrace. Scandalous, that’s what it was. You should have immediately insisted upon a chaperone.”
“Why didn’t she insist upon a chaperone if she was so worried about being alone with me?”
“Why, you…” The older man’s cheeks reddened. “I always knew you were no gentleman, but—”
“I can assure you I was a perfect gentleman with your daughter.” Jules paused and thought of how only an hour ago, he had been behaving quite scandalously, but that was different, that had been with his Meredith.
His Meredith?
His heart squeezed at the thought of her being solely his and at his side all day, every day.
“Your reputation precedes you,” the duke was saying. “Always up to no good, dodgy deals. Illegal gambling and goodness knows what else.” He nodded at the Turner.
“I say, old chap.” Jules set back his shoulders. “I could have you for slander. You have no proof of anything untoward.”
“There is no smoke without fire and the ton gossip is lit with flames whenever your name is mentioned.”
Jules suppressed a smile. He would quite like to be a fly on the wall during these gossip sessions that included him as a topic. “I see, well, none of it is true, I can assure you.”
“That is just as well because you will have to marry my daughter. That, unfortunately, is the only way to fix this mess.”
“I really don’t think so.” The idea was preposterous. Unthinkable.
“You, young man, do not have a say in this.” The duke wagged his finger.
Jules felt his anger sparking to life. Who on earth did this man think he was?
Did he forget Jules was a Habsburg? His ancestors didn’t take kindly to being ordered around and neither would he.
“Your Grace,” he said in his calmest voice, “much as I hate to disappoint you, I won’t be walking down the aisle with your daughter.
Lovely as she is, we have no reason to marry. ”
“You have every reason to marry. Her reputation is ruined.” Spittle had gathered at the corners of his mouth and his ruddy cheeks were now a deep mauve.
“A reputation that will be restored as soon as there is another scandal and another ball.” Jules sucked in a breath, keen to be on his way now. “So if you’ll excuse me.”
“You think I want this?” the duke asked.
“No, not at all, so let’s leave this madness here and move on with life. I’m sure your little Lady Eloise will find someone who enjoys her tales of embroidery and rare birds, but it is not I.”
“You insult her too?”
“Hardly an insult to say we have different interests.” Jules stepped away. “I must be on my way, but I bid you good day.”
“Why, you fiend!”
Jules quickly turned and strode up the street. He could still hear the duke puffing and muttering as he turned the corner. The poor chap really was in the dudgeons over this matter.
And Jules had a nasty feeling he wouldn’t hear the end of it for some time. But he had other things to worry about now. Drake wouldn’t be pleased to see him, at least not initially, but hopefully, Jules would win him around with the new Turner and that would be one less thing to worry about.
Jules checked his pocket watch. It was nine-thirty and his evening chess lesson was about to begin. Yesterday, he’d visited Drake and settled his debts. The thugs would move onto other victims and he felt lighter for it.
He nodded to Theseus and Egeus, the guards who kept charge over the Lyon’s Den, and strode inside the exclusive establishment. He held an umbrella but didn’t pause to set it in the stand. Instead, he walked straight to the private gaming room.
He was just about to knock when the door pulled open. A tall, blond man stood there clutching a book. He was very handsome and Jules instantly bristled, his stomach coiling into a knot.
The Duke of Newgale had been with Meredith this last hour, that much was clear. If he’d tried to kiss her…so much as looked at her with desire in his eyes, Jules would…
“Ah, Mr. Habsburg, how are you?” The duke smiled broadly.
“Very good, Your Grace. And yourself?” Jules’s voice was tight and his smile strained.
“Excellent, and I’m looking forward to the chess tournament in a few weeks’ time, though I have to say I’d rather not share my teacher if you are one of my opponents. She is incredibly knowledgeable, skilled, and fast thinking.”
“Strategic, I think is the word when it comes to chess.” Jules had to make an effort not to clench his teeth as he spoke.
“Yes, of course. Strategy, that’s the most important thing, or so I have been told.”
Jules nodded. “I wish you a pleasant evening.”
“Thank you. I am going to read up on my game.” He tapped the book. “It really would be jolly exciting to win Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s chess tournament. Quite the achievement.”
“And you like to win.” Jules didn’t phrase it as a question.
“Always. Don’t you?”
“Naturally, and I usually do.”
The duke laughed. “That’s fighting talk. Enjoy your lesson.” He turned and headed for the main entrance. “And I don’t think it’s going to rain, old chap. You’ve carried that umbrella for no reason whatsoever.”
Jules scowled after him. Winning the chess tournament wasn’t at the forefront of his mind right now.
The prize he was after was Meredith’s trust. He wanted her to understand they’d done nothing wrong.
That he was captivated by her and touching her and kissing her had been beyond wonderful and the most natural thing in the world.
He let himself into the room and shut the door.
She was seated, spine rod-straight, at the table. The chessboard was set out neatly before her. She didn’t look up.
“Greetings.” He placed the umbrella against the wall and stepped up to the table.
She didn’t look up from the pieces. “Sit and we shall start your lesson.”
“I returned your umbrella.”
“Good.” Her jaw was tight and her hands knotted on her lap. “I am sure to need it.”
“Meredith.” He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “Please, I…”
She stiffened and that small reaction was a dagger to his heart.
“Please, this is a lesson,” she said stiffly. “That is what we must focus on.”
He swallowed tightly and sat opposite her. Today, a large tendril of her hair was loose and hanging like a silk curtain over her shoulders. He longed to touch it, as he did her cheek, her lips, the hollow of her throat where a pearl necklace sat.
She cleared her throat. “Today, we will delve deeper into chess strategy.”
“Which is?”
“Strategy in this instance is about long-term planning to gain an advantage, focusing on control, developing pieces efficiently, ensuring the safety of the king and creating sound pawn structures. While tactics are the short-term sequences that exploit these strategic advantages, the overall goal is to create opportunities for tactics through superior positioning and limiting the opponent’s options. ”
“I see.” He nodded slowly. “Sounds complicated.”
“It is, and remember you have to read people, the way you do when playing brag. Keep up.”
He pressed his lips together. She’d sounded so stern and for some reason, that was endearing to him.
Lady Eloise, or any of the other young ladies of the ton, for that matter, would never speak to him like that.
And read people. Yes, he was fairly accomplished at that, but he got the feeling she was better at it.
“Shall I pour a tipple of wine?” he asked.
“Please, help yourself.”
He stood. “Can I bring you one?”
“No, thank you. I’d prefer to have a clear mind.”
“For what? The chess or when you’re around me?”
Her head flicked up and she looked him straight in the eyes. “Around you, Mr. Habsburg. I’m sure you understand why.”
“What I understand is…” He squatted at her side and resisted placing his hand on her knee, over her pale-pink gown, and instead gripped the table edge.
“Is that I can’t stop thinking about you, Meredith.
You have jumped into me, here.” He pressed his hand on his chest. “I don’t want you to be wary of me, or afraid of me, or… ”
“How can I be anything else? What we did yesterday, I…” She snapped in a breath and closed her eyes.
He gave in and squeezed her leg. To his relief, she didn’t jump away. “Was impulsive and wonderful and I can’t pretend to regret a single moment I spent with you.”
“How can you say that?” She opened her eyes. “We would be the talk of the ton if word got out.”
“I’m not breathing a word of our private time to anyone, are you?”
“No, of course not.” She was breathing fast, her breasts pressing against her gown and the soft flesh rising and falling. “Why would I?”
“Then we have nothing to fear.” He stood and walked to the wine tray, pouring two glasses. “Here, drink this. Tell me more about chess strategy. I need to know because I need to win.” He refrained from adding how much he wanted to defeat the duke.
She took the wine and gulped back half of it.
He smiled and sat opposite, pleased that some of the tension seemed to have lifted from her shoulders. “Shall I begin?”
“Yes.” She leaned forward. “But before you do, tell me each move I might make. In fact, that will be the lesson. Guessing your opponent’s every move before you make your own. That way, you will never be caught off guard.”
Jules believed there were hidden meanings behind her words. She wasn’t just talking about chess, she was talking about him and not being caught off guard again in his presence.
He rubbed his palms together and concentrated on the chess pieces.
Soon, they were playing an exciting game. Or it was for him, at least. And he was animated and challenged as he explained the rationale for each of his moves.
Meredith finished her wine and appeared to relax in his company—finally—and her focus was on the game she was so darn good at.
Eventually, the clock struck ten-thirty and the lesson was over.
It would be a dark walk home to a cold bed and Jules was in no rush to leave his pretty company.
“You have played well.” Meredith stood. “I believe you may stand half a chance at the tournament.”
Jules also stood, and laughed. “I want more than half a chance. I intend to win it.”
“You are not the best player…yet.”
“So,” he said, stepping closer to her. “Give me extra lessons, private, away from here.”
She backed up, gripping the chair. “That would not be…wise.”
“Why not?” He crowded her and caught a whiff of her sweet, flowery scent. “I will make it worth your while. I’ll split my winnings.”
“I do not need your money.”
Her pupils were wide as she looked up at him and he could see the candlelight flickering in their depths.
“But I need you,” he said softly.
“Jules…you can’t say that kind of thing.” She retreated farther, until her shoulders hit the wall. “Your impropriety is quite shocking.”
Good. He liked shocking.
He followed her and set his palms flat on either side of her head. Her body heat radiated onto him and a familiar rush of desire flooded his veins. She was so alluring, so unique, he wanted her for himself. “Why can’t I say that kind of thing?”
“Because… Because you hardly know me. We can’t… I can’t… It’s scandalous.”
He tipped his mouth into a grin. “A little scandal keeps life interesting, don’t you think?”
“You have made my life quite interesting enough.” She swiped her tongue over her bottom lip as though remembering their kisses. “Thank you very much.”
“I intend to make it more so.”
“No, I… Please… Mrs. Dove-Lyon would not understand and—”
“Come to Paris with me.”
“What?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O.’
“Come to Paris with me. I have to go to an art exhibition, leaving tomorrow. Come with me, Meredith. We would have the time of our lives.” He leaned closer still. “That is my promise to you.”