Lisa Plumley

by The Honor-Bound Gambler

  Besides which, Benedict Lucas was a gentleman whom all of the ton talked of in hushed voices, if they dared talk of him at all. A man of deep and violent passions, he was known to have vowed ten years ago that he would find the person who had murdered his parents, no matter how long it took him to do it, and that when he did he would kill the man himself rather than trust to the justice of the law.

  Lucifer was also known as one of the finest shots in England, as well as a superior swordsman, skills he had honed and perfected during his years spent in the army, which meant that he was more than capable of carrying out such a threat.

  ‘Or perhaps you have heard otherwise, my lord?’ she challenged at his lack of reply.

  Benedict might have laughed at how little that expression of haughty reproach suited Genevieve Forster’s impishly beautiful face. Almost. Except laughter, amusement of any kind, was not something which had come easily to him this past ten years. Instead, his mouth now curled into a hard and mocking smile. ‘Not particularly, Genevieve.’ He continued to use her given name deliberately, having noted her earlier discomfort. ‘But I am sure it is not too late for you to remedy that particular omission, if you so choose…?’

  There was no denying that Genevieve Forster was a very beautiful woman; her abundance of curls beneath her blue bonnet was the colour of flame and her mischievously twinkling eyes the colour of periwinkles. Her nose was slightly snub above full and sensuously pouting lips, her complexion that of peaches and cream. And although tiny in stature, almost daintily fragile, the swell of her breasts, above the low neckline of her blue gown, appeared full and lush.

  To Benedict’s knowledge she had been married for six years, and widowed for one. She was without any male relatives, except for her stepson, the current duke, a gentleman who was several years older than Genevieve, and it was known that the two were not close. Her two closest female friends were also currently engaged in relationships which he knew took them from Genevieve’s side.

  Not that Benedict had ever been known to prey on unprotected females, but as a widow of five and twenty years, that term hardly applied to Genevieve Forster. A public acquaintance with her would do well as a foil for his own movements over the next few weeks, in his capacity as a spy for the Crown, with the added bonus that her beauty and vivacity would also ensure that Benedict enjoyed that acquaintance.

  ‘Unless, of course, you feel it would be too daring to travel alone with me in my carriage…?’ he now challenged softly.

  Genevieve bristled at what she considered to be a slur upon the independence she had tried so hard to acquire since her widowhood a year ago. She was also well past the first flush of youth. She was a duchess, and a widow, and as such she could, and would, now behave as she pleased.

  Neither would she give the arrogantly mocking Benedict Lucas the satisfaction of thinking her a coward. ‘Not at all, my lord,’ she assured him frostily. ‘If you will just give me a moment to dismiss my own carriage?’

  ‘And your maid?’

  Her spine stiffened at this further challenge. ‘And my maid,’ she conceded coolly after several seconds’ thought.

  ‘Shall we…?’ Benedict Lucas offered her his arm to escort her down the steps.

  Genevieve’s cheeks were pale and her heart was beating a little too rapidly in her chest as she placed a gloved hand lightly upon that muscled arm and allowed Benedict Lucas to escort her down to her carriage, whereupon he excused himself to stroll across to engage in conversation with his own coachman as he waited for her to join him.

  ‘Are you sure, your Grace?’ May, Genevieve’s maid for the past seven years, had given a wide-eyed glance in the direction of the dark and dangerously attractive Lucifer upon being informed of Genevieve’s intention to ride home in his carriage with him.

  ‘I am very sure, yes,’ Genevieve stated more firmly than she felt. May knew better than most how horrific Genevieve’s marriage to Josiah Forster had been.

  Her maid looked unconvinced. ‘I’ve heard such tales about that particular gentleman—’

  ‘That will be quite enough, thank you, May.’ Genevieve had also heard ‘tales’ about Lucifer, and all of them wicked. But what else could she have done when he had challenged her so obviously?

  Run as far away as was possible, came the instant and emphatic answer!

  No, she would not, could not, continue to live in the way she had been forced to live during her marriage to Josiah, frightened of her own shadow most of the time. No matter how much the thoughts of being alone with any gentleman made her pulse flutter and her stomach clench with nausea!

  Besides, what could Benedict Lucas possibly do to her in his carriage in broad daylight…?

  *

  ‘Is that really necessary, my lord?’

  Benedict smiled at Genevieve Forster as she sat across the carriage from him, those blue eyes wide as she watched him pulling down the blinds on the windows. ‘Do you not find the sun a little…overbright?’ he drawled derisively.

  She studied him for several long seconds. ‘It is a little…intrusive,’ she finally conceded abruptly.

  ‘Exactly.’ Benedict’s gaze continued to meet hers as he pulled down the last of the blinds. ‘This is much cosier,’ he murmured appreciatively.

  ‘Much.’ The coolness of her smile was belied by the telltale rapid beating of her pulse in the slenderness of her throat. ‘Tell me, were you as surprised by today’s wedding as I?’

  ‘No,’ he answered unhelpfully; the confidences of the bridegroom were exactly that, confidences, and they would remain so.

  ‘Do you think—?’

  ‘No.’

  Genevieve Forster arched red-gold brows. ‘You have not heard my question as yet.’

  Benedict gave a hard smile. ‘It is not necessary when I have no intention of discussing the private business of today’s bride or groom.’ His gaze moved to the firm swell of her breasts as she drew in a deep breath. ‘That is a very pretty…necklace you are wearing.’

  ‘I— Thank you.’ Her gloved fingers instinctively moved to touch the sapphire as large as a robin’s egg nestling between her breasts. ‘It was a wedding gift,’ she added stiffly.

  ‘Obviously your husband was a gentleman of discerning tastes,’ Benedict murmured softly. ‘Both in his wife and the jewellery he bestowed upon her.’

  ‘You may choose to think that if you wish, Lucas.’ Genevieve’s voice had hardened to ice.

  The sharpness of Benedict’s narrowed gaze returned to her face, easily noting the twin spots of colour that had appeared in her cheeks and the angry sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes. ‘The duke was not a gentleman of discerning tastes…?’ he said slowly.

  ‘He was not a gentleman at all!’ she snapped scathingly. ‘And, might I say, Lucas, that if you invited me into your carriage with any intention of furthering our acquaintance, then I believe I must tell you that, by

  introducing the subject of my late husband into our conversation, you have failed utterly!’

  Benedict’s brows rose at the directness of her statement. ‘Your marriage was not a happy one?’

  ‘Obviously not.’

  Genevieve Forster was proving more of a distraction than Benedict would ever have guessed before engaging in conversation with her.

  ‘You did not find becoming a duchess suitable…compensation, for the duke’s deficiencies as a husband?’

  ‘I did not.’ Genevieve’s mood was not in the least lightened by the glint of humour she was sure she could now see in the darkness of Benedict Lucas’s eyes. ‘A word of caution, perhaps, for the next time you find yourself alone with a lady, might be not to mention the woman’s dead husband!’

  ‘If I have offended—’

  ‘I am not offended, my lord, I am merely bored by this conversation.’ She turned to raise the blind beside her before looking out at the street below.

  Benedict sat back in stunned silence for several long seconds, as he acknowledged he had never encountered a
woman quite like Genevieve Forster before. For all that he was always discreet, Benedict had known a number of women intimately this past twelve years. Women he had desired physically, but had no interest in knowing in any other way, let alone any of the private details of the lives they had led before he met them.

  His intentions towards Genevieve Forster had been equally dispassionate, in that it had been his intention to use a friendship with her, as he had others in the past, as a shield to his appearance in society. Benedict usually made a point of avoiding attending any of society’s balls and parties, and it was only when it was required, in his role as agent for the crown, that he deigned to accept any of those invitations.

  For Genevieve Forster to so firmly express her own lack of interest in continuing their acquaintance was galling, and yet somehow intriguing, at the same time. ‘Is there not some way in which I might redeem myself?’ he cajoled softly.

  An irritated frown still creased her creamy brow as she turned to look at him. ‘I should tell you that I was married for six unhappy years and have spent the last year in mourning for a husband I thoroughly detested. As such I seek only adventure and fun in my life in future.’

  Benedict had known of the huge difference in ages between the duke and his wife, but until now he had not been aware of the circumstances of Genevieve’s marriage to Josiah Forster. Now that he did, he could not help but wonder in what manner that marriage had been so unhappy. ‘And you believe me to be incapable of providing that adventure and fun?’ He arched dark brows.

  ‘Adventure of a kind, perhaps,’ she acknowledged in measured tones. ‘After all, you are known as the dangerous and elusive Lucifer.’

  His brows rose. ‘Am I?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded derisively. ‘But fun? No, I do not believe so, my lord.’ Her smile was coolly dismissive.

  Benedict’s irritation increased at that easy dismissal. ‘How can you be so sure of that without having spent any time in my company?’

  ‘I have spent the time of this carriage ride in your company, my lord.’ She eyed him haughtily.

  ‘And?’

  She shrugged. ‘And that has been quite long enough to assure me that the differences in our natures would not suit.’

  Benedict’s frustration with this conversation, with this woman, grew by the minute. ‘Will you be attending Lady Hammond’s ball this evening?’

  She gave an elegant shrug. ‘I am undecided as yet between attending the ball or enjoying a private supper with the Earl of Sandhurst.’

  ‘You are thinking of supping with Charlie Brooks?’ Benedict sat forwards on his seat.

  Those blue eyes widened defensively at his obvious disdain. ‘The earl is not only charming and affable, but also as handsome as a Greek god.’

  The Earl of Sandhurst was all of those things. He was also known to be one of the biggest lechers in London. Which no doubt perfectly suited Genevieve’s immediate plans for indulging in ‘adventure and fun’, following marriage to a man so obviously lacking in those attributes, a man she had bluntly stated she despised.

  Could it be that Benedict’s own chagrin towards Sandhurst was irritation at being told he ‘did not suit’? Maybe a little, he conceded irritably. But really, to be passed over for that lightweight Charlie Brooks, of all men!

  ‘I have an engagement earlier in the evening, but the two of us could have a private supper together later tonight if that is what you believe you would find adventurous and fun?’ he heard himself offering.

  ‘I think not, but thank you for asking,’ Genevieve refused coolly.

  ‘Why the hell not?’ Benedict snapped.

  ‘Well, for one thing, I do not appreciate being informed I would have to take second place to your other engagement earlier in the evening.’

  ‘It is a business appointment!’

  She shrugged those delicate shoulders. ‘Then I wish you more success with it than you have had with me.’

  Lucifer glared. ‘You are being unreasonable!’

  Genevieve gave him a pitying glance. ‘I am sure that there are many women who would appreciate your interest, my lord, but following so soon after my unhappy marriage, I believe I require something a little more…romantic than you appear to be currently offering.’

  ‘Romantic!’ He stared at her as if she had completely lost her senses.

  Genevieve glanced out of the window. ‘It would seem we are arrived at my home, Lucas.’ She gave him a vacuous smile as she collected up her reticule in preparation for leaving the carriage. ‘Thank you for the carriage ride, my lord, it has been most…enlightening.’

  He scowled darkly. ‘There are many ways in which to have fun, Genevieve,’ he drawled softly. ‘And I believe, if you were to reflect, that you would realise that I have a much better…understanding of them than Sandhurst.’

  She raised her brows. ‘Perhaps one day I might consider comparing that…understanding, and so decide for myself if that is so, but not today.’

  Lucifer frowned darkly. ‘You are being extremely naïve in believing you will only be asked to enjoy “adventure and fun” with one such as Charlie Brooks.’

  Genevieve was having fun right now, if truth be told. She had been very young when she married Josiah, with little opportunity to flirt with other men before that marriage; but even so, she had absolutely no doubts that she had now piqued Benedict Lucas’s interest by refusing to be in the least attracted to his dark and brooding good looks.

  She might indeed be as naïve as Benedict Lucas had just accused her of being in regard to the behaviour of the gentlemen of the ton, but she was not stupid, and a man such as he would obviously see no challenge whatsoever in the easy conquest he had so obviously believed Genevieve might be to his lazily arrogant charms. It was, she acknowledged with wonder, quite deliciously enticing to know that she had aroused the interest of such a dangerous and elusive gentleman…

  She gave a shrug. ‘As I said, I wish to be wooed a little before I would ever consider taking any gentleman as my lover.’

  ‘Sandhurst—’

  ‘—sent me flowers and chocolates earlier today. Accompanied by a beautifully worded card.’ She smiled at the memory.

  ‘Only because he is hoping to entice you into sharing his bed later this evening!’

  ‘I am aware of that, of course,’ Genevieve acknowledged with a cool inclination of her head. ‘But Sandhurst hoping for such an outcome to the evening will not make it so.’

  Had Benedict ever felt such frustration and anger with a woman before? He could not remember doing so. Indeed, he rarely if ever allowed himself to express strong emotions of any kind. Which was not to say he did not feel them, only that he chose not to reveal those emotions to others. ‘I fail to see anything in the least romantic in Sandhurst plying you with flowers and chocolates, and prettily worded cards…’ his top lip curled up with distaste ‘…for the sole purpose of expecting you to go to bed with him immediately after the two of you have dined privately together.’

  Genevieve eyed him mockingly. ‘And would you not have expected the same from me, without benefit of flowers and chocolates and prettily worded cards, if I had agreed to meet you at Lady Hammond’s ball later this evening?’

  He snorted his impatience. ‘If that is so, then at least I have been honest in my intentions.’

  She gave him a pitying glance. ‘Perhaps too much so…?’

  His nostrils flared. ‘You are an extremely aggravating woman, Genevieve!’

  She gave a surprised laugh. ‘Now that truly is honest, Benedict.’

  Those black eyes glowered across the carriage at her. He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘You will find me at Lady Hammond’s ball later this evening if that should be your choice.’

  She gave another cool inclination of her head. ‘I will keep your gracious offer in mind. Now, if you would not mind…?’ She glanced pointedly towards the carriage door, leaving Benedict with no other choice but to alight from the carriage before turning to o
ffer Genevieve his hand as she stepped down beside him. She gave him another cool nod before turning to gracefully climb the steps to the front door of her home, which opened immediately for her entrance before closing firmly behind her.

  All, Benedict noted broodingly, without so much as a backwards glance in his direction…

  The Honor-Bound Gambler

  ISBN: 9781460313688

  Copyright © 2013 by Lisa Plumley

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