"I have the chapter here, all ready for you to read. I'm afraid I can't let you take it with you. You'll need to read it here."
Tempy tried to hide her look of dismay, but apparently she was unsuccessful.
"Is that a problem?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
Was it? "It's just that I need to meet someone." It wasn't as though they planned to meet at a specific time, but she didn't think she could sit here and read an entire chapter of No Name. It was unlikely that a single word of it would sink in.
Mr. Collins glanced at the clock on the mantle. "How about tomorrow then? Around two?"
She nearly sighed with relief. "Yes, two o'clock would be perfect. Thank you for being so understanding." She stood to leave, and Mr. Collins struggled to his feet.
"I hope you don't mind if I fail to escort you to the door," he said, gesturing to his leg.
"Not all. Goodbye, Mr. Collins. And thank you."
A moment later, Tempy was back in her carriage and wending her way through the streets of Bath toward the Royal Crescent.
And toward Lucien.
This last stage of the trip seemed to take much longer than she remembered. It was strange, the way time had seemed to compress itself while she was on the train, and now it pulled tight, stretched like an elastic band to its breaking point. There were quite a few more carriages traveling along her route than she remembered from the previous visit.
Finally, as the hansom cab moved along the curve of The Circus, Tempy realized that she was only a couple of blocks away from the Royal Crescent.
Tempy's breathing quickened and her blood rushed to her head, leaving her momentarily lightheaded.
It was nerves, she observed with some surprise. She was quite nervous about seeing Lucien, and that frightened her.
Perhaps this wasn't the right thing to do after all.
But it had to be.
Her hand went up to her neck again, finding the necklace that rested there under her dress. No matter what, she needed to give it back to Lucien. She couldn't turn back now.
Love stories didn't work this way, at least not in the novels she'd read. The woman didn't pursue the man only to realize that he was entirely wrong for her.
That would be ludicrous.
Just like her.
No, the heroine was supposed to recognize the man of her dreams immediately. She certainly wasn't supposed to chase one man only to catch him and toss him aside for another.
And a proper heroine in a romantic novel most certainly was not supposed to pursue the man to his home. In books, it always happened the other way around. The man came to her and swept her off her feet. Then he carried her away so that they could live happily ever after.
Perhaps she wasn't enacting a romance after all. Perhaps she was destined to be alone.
Perhaps this story was a tragedy.
Well, if that was what fate had in store for her, she knew she could face it.
But she certainly hoped that wasn't the case.
39 - Fire in the Ice
Lucien knew he'd been in an obnoxious mood for the past two days. Boothby probably regretted his decision to become Lucien's valet. If their roles had been reversed, Lucien would have resigned by now.
He needed to remember to give the man the night off soon.
Lucien had thrown himself into learning about the state of his affairs as the new Earl of Cavendish. The title still sounded stiff, like a new shoe that wasn't broken in. It chafed and pinched, but he knew it would soon feel comfortable.
At least, it had better.
He still wasn't certain how to handle Formsworth. He mulled the problem over for a moment until a thought struck him. Perhaps he should let Boothby handle the problem. After all, he'd already forced Formsworth into full retreat once, and that was more than most people were ever able to accomplish.
That very morning he'd received a letter from the board of directors of Bliss Railways. It had been extremely conciliatory and would have made him laugh if not for the seriousness of the subject.
The front door chime rang. After a steady stream of visitors had dropped off calling cards this afternoon, he'd given Boothby strict instructions to permit no one entrance to his home today. He was to tell anyone who asked that Lord Cavendish was out.
So, it surprised him when he heard a knock on his office door just a moment later.
Boothby opened the door and cleared his throat. "Sir, you have a visitor whom I believe you'll want to see."
"Take their name," he said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Tell them I'll either call on them in two days' time, or they can come back later today. I should be available in a couple of hours."
When Boothby didn't move out of the doorway, Lucien frowned at him. "Why are you still standing there? Go on."
Boothby looked singularly uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat again.
"What is it? Anyone observing you would think you'd been my manservant for years by the way you clear your throat and refuse to do my bidding. Obviously you disapprove of my decision, so out with it. Why should I see this person?"
"It's Miss Bliss, my lord."
Lucien lurched to his feet and nearly knocked over his chair. "Tempy's here?"
"Yes, sir. She's requested a few moments of your time."
"Well, why didn't you say so? Send her in immediately."
Boothby backed out of the room and began to pull the door closed.
"Wait! Is she with anyone? A gentleman perhaps?"
Boothby pushed the door open again. His expression was unreadable. Irritatingly so. Lucien suspected him of enjoying Lucien's discomfort. "Well?" Lucien prompted.
"She's alone, sir."
Relief surged through him.
Boothby continued to stand at the door.
"Well, go on then. Show her in." Lucien plucked his frock coat off the back of his chair and slid it on over his bright green waistcoat.
He glanced at Boothby as the man closed the door and noted the smirk on his face. That was most definitely a smirk.
Dratted little monkey.
Lucien shot his cuffs, making certain that just the right amount of white sleeve emerged from the black frock coat.
He leaned against his desk, trying to look casual. Or was his position too staged? He turned back to his desk and sat back down in the chair. Yes. This appeared more impromptu. As though she were catching him at work.
There was a soft knock at the door, and then it swung open.
There she was. Lovely as ever.
Lucien sprang to his feet, suddenly feeling foolish. "Tempy," he said.
"Lucien." Her voice was like a caress.
He stopped breathing. There was no more in and out of air. In fact, for a moment his heart even skipped a beat. The moment in time froze, and he could only stare at Tempy.
She was here. She had come.
With long strides, he crossed the room, and Tempy hurried toward him, meeting him in his headlong rush toward her.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "You're here," he whispered into her hair. "You came to me." He pulled her tighter, pressing her against him.
"In the light of day," she murmured into his chest.
He slid his hands up to her shoulders and leaned back to peer down into her eyes. "Say it."
He needed for her to say the words. He needed to hear her tell him.
"I love you, Lucien."
She said it so simply, so boldly, that his heart soared with joy. He wrapped his arms around her again, crushing her to his chest, and kissed her. He put every ounce of his love into that kiss, and he could feel her love flowing back into him.
She slid her palms up his back and stopped at his neck. She wove the fingers on one hand into his hair and then curled them, grabbing a fistful of his hair as she pulled him more tightly against her.
A deep wave of lust washed through him, but then he froze. This wasn't what he'd planned to have happen.
He reached his hands behin
d his neck and took hold of Tempy's, pulling them free. "Wait," he said.
She opened her eyes blearily, and then they widened in surprise. "What is it? What's wrong?"
She suddenly looked nervous. As though she was worried that he might be rejecting her.
"Wait. I need a moment. There's something I want to do first."
He hurried back to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He pushed the letter from Bliss Railways to one side and pulled out the blue velvet case and released its spring catch. He glanced down at the sparkling jewelry within and selected a piece, sliding it onto the tip of his finger and then closing his hand into a fist.
He crossed back over to Tempy. "I know it's customary to speak to a father or brother, but that won't work for us. We're different. And I think that makes us well suited for one another." He cleared his throat. "Temperance Bliss, will you do me the honor of agreeing to become my wife?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Say it," she demanded.
He was confused for a moment, but then he understood. "I love you, Tempy. Please marry me."
Her smile broadened and she nodded. Then her lower lip began to tremble and tears began sliding down her cheeks. "Oh Lucien," she said. "I was afraid you might not want me."
He lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb. "I've always wanted you, Tempy. Even when I didn't know it."
He raised his other hand and glanced down, pulling the small ring from the tip of his finger.
He looked into her eyes. "I don't know if this will fit, but we can have it adjusted. I want you to have it as my betrothal gift." He lifted her left hand and slid it onto her ring finger. He had to push just a little to slide it over her knuckle, but it fit perfectly, just as he'd hoped it would.
He watched as she lifted her hand to the collar of her dress. She stared into his eyes as she undid the top button of her blouse, but he couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze from her fingers as they pressed the circle of ivory through the top buttonhole.
As her dress parted, he caught a glitter of fire beneath it.
40 - Bliss
Lucien's hands rested on her shoulders. Their bodies were almost brushing against each other, and she could swear she could feel the heat radiating from his body even though they were inches apart. Lucien overwhelmed her senses, making it difficult to breathe, and even more difficult to think clearly.
One of his hands drifted from her shoulder and he ran an index finger across the diamond-encrusted oval links. Tempy could only close her eyes and try not to tremble at his touch.
But then her eyes flew open. She needed to see him.
As soon as their gazes met, Tempy let out a soft sigh that was a mixture of relief and desire. Lucien's hand slid up, cupping the back of her head and sliding into her hair. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, claiming it again.
Lucien's other arm slid around her waist, pulling her tightly against his body. "When you left the casino, I was afraid you might not come back to me, and it nearly killed me."
"This is where I belong." She leaned into his arms and slid her hands under his frock coat, sliding them across the satin of his green waistcoat until she'd encircled his waist. "I know that now."
"As long as we're together. That's all I want. All I need."
Lucien took a couple of shuffling steps forward and she followed along with him by moving backwards. He pressed her body against the closed door and began kissing her again. His lips pressed into hers, and when she opened her mouth to welcome him, his tongue darted against hers. Tendrils of fire began to wend their way through her, but then focused on the V between her legs.
"I want you in my bed, but not like this," he murmured into her ear. "We need to get married right away."
Right away? Tempy knew she should probably speak, but she didn't think her mouth could form words right now. She could barely even comprehend what Lucien was saying. What was this word, married? And how did it apply to her?
"Tempy?" he said. He leaned one elbow on the wall next to her head and looked into her eyes. She focused her gaze on his face, and then noticed the self-satisfied smile on it.
That brought her around.
She pushed away from the wall and stepped around him before facing him again.
"When?"
"As soon as possible." He moved past her to cross to the far side of his desk, and Tempy couldn't help but watch him as he moved.
She sighed.
"I heard that," he said over his shoulder.
She smiled. "I was just thinking about how lucky I am."
Standing on the far side of the desk, he grinned at her and then began flipping through his calendar. "We have three choices. We can wait three weeks for the banns to be read, or we can try for a special license, or we can take a trip up to Gretna Green."
Tempy licked her lips. "I've never been to Scotland. And just imagine the stories we can tell."
A broad grin spread over Lucien's face. "Scotland it is."
"I wonder if Earl E. Byrd will write an article informing the world of our plans even before we manage to leave Bath," she mused. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized that she really didn't care. She shot Lucien a devilish grin. "Perhaps we'll scandalize all of London."
Lucien moved back to his desk. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said, pulling an envelope from his desk. "But I'm afraid you won't be mentioned in the newspapers quite so often anymore."
She shot Lucien a questioning gaze as she accepted the letter and was even more surprised when she saw that it was from Bliss Railways. "What's this?"
"Something John Snowden said helped me figure it out. It turns out that man writing the articles was being paid to do so by your board of directors."
"What! How can you be certain?"
Lucien gestured toward the letter she held. "They've admitted it. I first noticed someone following me in Bath on our return trip, but when I thought about it I recalled seeing him in Porlock as well. John was able to track the man down and, um, convince him to help."
Tempy cocked one eyebrow at his choice of words, but didn't say anything. When he paused at though waiting for her to speak, she gestured for him to continue.
"John confronted your board of directors yesterday with his proof." He jutted his chin toward the letter in her hand. "That letter is their response to me. John insisted that if they didn't write it, he'd bring the police into the matter. You'll have to decide how you want to proceed from here."
"You interceded without speaking to me?"
"I'm sorry." His look of remorse seemed genuine. "With what happened at the casino the other night, I didn't think it was wise to wait. After what he did when there was nothing illicit to write about, I could only imagine what he might do if he caught even the hint of real scandal."
Tempy frowned. To avoid speaking, she pulled the letter from the envelope and read through it. There it was. The board's admission that they'd been trying to manipulate her into selling her controlling share of Bliss Railways by paying Byrd to harass her. Apparently, they'd also sent a letter of apology to her home. She must have just missed receiving it.
This meant Byrd was gone from her life. She no longer had to worry about opening the paper and finding yet another article criticizing her. She tried to suppress the smile that wanted to escape her lips, but she couldn't. "You've made things quite difficult for me, Lord Cavendish."
Her smile must have been infectious, because she caught him grinning back at her. "And how is that, Miss Bliss?"
"You've given me two wonderful betrothal gifts. How can I possibly repay you?"
He took a step closer. "I know exactly how."
"Yes?" she asked.
"Let's leave for Scotland now."
"I like the way you think," she said, grinning in delight. "How soon can we leave?"
Thank you for reading Gambling on a Scoundrel.
If you enjoyed this book, please look for Sheridan's novella, It Takes a
Spy (Summer, 2014) from her Secrets and Seduction series. It is a prelude to two other full length novels, Lady Catherine's Secret and Once Upon a Spy, which will be coming out later in 2014.
All authors appreciate hearing from readers. If you'd like to leave a review on Amazon:
Click here to go to the Amazon page for this book.
When I first planned this novel, I wanted Tempy to be a writer for Mr. Charles Dickens. I researched the time period and chose one that suited my needs with respect to the story I wanted to tell. In doing so, I researched some of the women of the time who were doing notable things. Many of the people who I mention in this book existed, and I'd like to offer some brief notes on their lives.
I also strongly encourage you to read some of Mr. Wilkie Collins's books. You can probably download them for free on your e-reader.
I won't bother to outline the life of Mr. Charles Dickens. You've probably read a number of his books and are well acquainted with him. My favorite is "The Tale of Two Cities."
Eliza Lynn Linton (10 February 1822 – 14 July 1898) was more of a "real-life" version of Tempy. She was the first salaried female journalist and was on staff for Charles Dickens when he published "Household Words." I found it quite interesting to discover that she was a critic of "the new woman" and wrote an attack on feminism. She also believed that politics was the natural sphere of men, and she fought against the vote for women.
According to her obituary in The Times, she held an "animosity towards all, or rather, some of those facets which may be conveniently called the 'New Woman'."
In the 1850′s, Lady Clementina Hawarden (Clementina Maude, Viscountess Harwarden 1 June 1822 – 19 January 1865) began taking photographs, first of Ireland's landscape near her home in Dundrum County, Tipperary, Ireland, and later focusing on her ten children (yes, TEN). In 1859, when the family relocated to their London home in South Kensington, she set up a studio there to continue her work.
While many male photographers of the day traveled extensively to photograph foreign lands, Lady Hawarden remained at home, capturing images of her family. It is from these photos that we can have a peek at the life of an upper-class family. Sometimes her daughters wore fashionable Victorian gowns, and at other times they wore costumes from the family's dress-up box. Reenacting historical tableaux was a popular pastime of the day.
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