Chapter Sixteen
A few days later, Meredith sat with the Duke of Newgale, William Sorrel, and scratched her head as she figured out her moves.
He was good now, very good.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“You are too proficient now to be afforded my strategy information.”
He laughed, a genuine deep rumble that made her smile despite the worry that had been weighing her down. “That is high praise, indeed. I thank you.”
“You understand the game very well now.” She moved her knight.
“Does that mean you think I will win?”
“How can I possibly know that?”
“You are the teacher of chess here at the Lyon’s Den.”
“That may be, but I do not know how every entrant plays. Or what standard they are.”
“How about the ones you do know?” He tipped his head and studied her. “Jules Habsburg. What kind of player is he?”
His name spoken aloud had her snatching in her breath. Quickly, she took a small sip of wine. It tasted funny, though, a little bitter. “He is…” She paused. “Also very good. If you are set against each other, it will be an entertaining match.”
He frowned, as though this were not good news. “And whom would you bet on?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you were to bet on myself versus Mr. Habsburg. On whom would you gamble to win?”
“I am not a gambling woman.”
He leaned forward. “But if you were. Please tell me.”
She sighed and looked over his shoulder at a candle flickering on the mantel. “It is too close to call. You are excellent at hiding a big move, yet he has the ability to think very fast and see every outcome. Even when I try to trick him into thinking I will do something else, he finds a way.”
“So you think I should work on fast thinking?”
She smiled. “If you can.” Not that it was something she imagined could be learned or even taught. Jules was simply nimble of mind; he had a good memory as well as an ability to hide his thoughts, like a good brag player should.
“Then I will try my best to think fast.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “And forgive me. We have gone over. I must be going.”
She stood. “I wish you luck. For the next time we meet will be at the tournament.”
“Blast, I forgot this was our last lesson.” He shook his head then shrugged into his jacket. “Will you be there?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Your presence alone will give me confidence.”
“You are a skilled player. There will be few opponents you cannot beat now. I wish you luck, though you will barely need it.”
He grinned suddenly. He really was a very handsome man. “I thank you for your kind words.” He tipped his hat and left the room.
Meredith reset the board for her next student. Each move of a piece had her heart rate picking up and when she heard the deep rumble of male voices filtering toward her, she had to beat down a wave of nausea.
This was the first time she would have been in Jules’s company since their return from Paris.
He entered the room moments later, shutting the door with a resounding click.
Instead of turning to him, Meredith busied herself with lighting a fresh candle to replace one that had burned down.
“Meredith,” he said.
“Please sit. We will commence the lesson.”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he came up close behind her, his breath tickled her cheek, and heat from his body surrounded her.
She breathed deeply, inhaling the slightly leathery, spiced scent of him. A hundred memories dropped into her head as she was reminded of his flesh against hers.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly.
“For what?” Her mouth had dried.
“For taking you to Paris.”
She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly. “You regret me being there?”
“No, no, not for a moment.” He touched her shoulder, his fingers sending a shockwave of awareness through her and tightening her chest. “I loved that you were there, but I know that you regret it.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You threw the wedding ring out of the carriage window the first chance you got.”
She turned to face him. The dark temptation in his eyes almost had her reaching for him, but she steeled herself. “You were quite clear that it was a deception for Paris, nowhere else, and we had left Paris at that point.”
He nodded stiffly.
“So what else should I have done?”
He closed his eyes, as though not wanting her to see into their depths for another moment.
She stepped away, her spine rod-straight. “We should begin. This is your last lesson before the tournament.” She sat primly and ignored her odd-tasting wine.
Jules walked to the decanter and poured himself a large glass. He then sat opposite her.
“You have some tough competition,” she said sternly. “Concentrate and use all the tips I have taught you for mental agility.”
He gave a brisk nod, took a slug of drink, and then said, “You go first.”
“Are you sure? I will have the advantage.”
“You may not think me a gentleman in many aspect of life, but please give me this. Ladies first.”
Meredith pressed her lips together and shook up her usual first move with a slide of a pawn. This was likely to be the board he’d come up against the most in the tournament.
His dark eyebrows pulled low and after a few moments of concentration, he slid into a defensive countermove.
Meredith put everything from her mind, even whom she was playing against, and set about challenging her pupil’s skills for strategy.
When Jules got up and refilled his glass, still, he didn’t speak and neither did she.
Eventually, she beat him. But only just and he’d made her work hard for the victory.
“Well done.” He sat back and crossed his arms, studying her. “You always were too shrewd for me.”
“‘Shrewd’?”
“You’re clever, very clever. There is no denying that.”
“If were as clever as you think, I wouldn’t have let you seduce me in Paris.” She stared him in the eye.
“Meredith.” He stood and went to the wall, set his palms on it, and bowed his head.
She stared at his wide back and the way his pants hugged his butt.
“Don’t you see?” he said, still with his back to her. “You seduced me.” He blew out a long breath.
“What?” She stood, the chair legs scraping on the floor. “How can you possibly say that?”
“I could not resist.” He turned and flicked his hand her way in a sharp gesture. “You got me here.” He used the same hand to press his chest. “In a way no one has before.”
Her heart was pounding. “And what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.” A frown line marred his brow and for the briefest of moments, confusion slashed through his eyes. “There is nothing I can do about it.”
She blinked rapidly a few times and hoped emotion wouldn’t overwhelm her. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m Jules Habsburg, don’t you see? I’m not a marrying kind. I’m the talk of the ton… Just ask Mrs. Dove-Lyon. It could never work between us.”
“You have made that clear several times.” Meredith walked to the door with her chin tipped. “But don’t worry, the only results you will have of our time together is a good chance at winning the tournament.”
“I want more.” He suddenly clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips lingered on her flesh.
She was breathing fast. The candles flickered in the draft of the open door and danced on his face. “What do you mean?”
“Can we be friends?”
His words were a dagger to her heart. “And… And how would I find myself a husband if I am seen stepping out with you anymore than I already have?”
He frowned. “‘A husband’?”
“Yes, I am an unmarried woman, Jules, or were you still living in our delusion and believing me to be spoken for?”
“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “Don’t find a husband, please. If frequent ravishing is what you want, then be my mistress. I will fund you a house in Chelsea and we can be together whenever—”
Meredith slapped him across the cheek. Hard. The crack echoed. She’d put real muscle into it and the sound of flesh on flesh was as satisfying as she’d hoped it would be.
How dare he?
He clasped his jawline and his eyes widened. Shock pulled his mouth into a perfect ‘O.’
“I will not be anyone’s mistress,” she hissed as she nodded at the door.
“What I have done is bad enough and would turn my father in his grave, but what you suggest… That is not how he would wish me to live, or how I would wish myself to live.” Her eyes stung with unspilled tears.
“Now go. Leave. And I wish you luck at the tournament, for I will not see you alone before that or after.”
“But…Meredith, damn and blast, I didn’t meant to cause you offense.” His cheek was rapidly flaring red. “You must understand.”
“But you did cause me offense and in doing so showed your true feelings for me.” She found her hand sliding to her belly. “I am not worthy of a real wedding ring. Now leave before I call for Lysander.”
“But please, I…”
“Go!” She shoved at his shoulder and his balance faltered, making him step halfway through the door.
Meredith made the most of it and shoved him again before slamming it shut.
Then she crumpled, down to her knees, her gown ballooning around her as she held back the loud sobs she wanted to release. They would have to wait until later, when she was in the privacy of her room.
Jules stared at the slammed door. His cheek stung and frustration clawed at him. What on earth had just happened?
Out of all the women he’d ever met, Meredith was the only one he’d asked to be his mistress. He adored her, wanted to be with her, missed her whenever they were apart, and the thought of having her in his bed gave him a wonderful sense of fulfilment, of belonging.
But it seemed she didn’t want that.
Not one bit.
“Meredith. Miss Jones.” He banged on the door. “Open up, please.”
“Sir, has your lesson ended?” a firm, deep voice asked.
Jules spun to see Lysander standing before him with his hands on his hips.
“Yes, but…”
“So time is up.” Lysander stepped aside and nodded at the entrance.
“We have unfinished business.”
“Then you must book another lesson, Mr. Habsburg.” Lysander’s voice was deep and gruff. “Though it is getting rather too near to the tournament for that.”
“Exactly! Which is why…”
“I will not ask you to leave again. Unless, of course, you wish to go into the casino?”
“No, not tonight.” Jules frowned. It felt as though a lead weight were pulling him down and he didn’t want company to see that.
He was best off in his own company if Meredith didn’t want him.
“So I will bid you goodnight.” He stepped past the painting of the boy with his pet rabbit.
Once out on the dark street, he was met with drizzly rain.
The lamps were lit and buttery light spilled onto the wet cobblestones. Jules pulled up his collar and shoved his hands into his pockets. He stomped toward The Mall, his emotions pinging around his body. He was angry and confused and didn’t know how to fix the situation.
After his mother had died, Jules’s father had had a mistress.
He’d kept her in a lavish apartment in Kensington, dined there often, and a few times, they’d taken trips together to the Scottish Highlands.
It had been a discreet relationship, but Jules had known it to be a close and satisfying one for his father, who had never wanted to remarry.
Why couldn’t Meredith see that it was a good solution for a man who didn’t want to marry? She wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. He’d take excellent care of her and see that she had everything she ever wanted.
He turned a corner and walked past a man smoking a pipe. The rich tobacco smell filled his nose and he decided to light his own when he returned home. Perhaps that would calm his fractured nerves and help him think straight.