His Perfect Game

by Jenn Langston

  “The weather is quite gloomy,” Lord Merrick commented.

  Abigail nodded. His generic observation would have been humorous had she not been so nervous about what she had to do. “This situation is unorthodox, is it not?”

  “Yes.” His eyes met hers and captured her attention.

  Never in her life had someone been so focused on her. She was seen by many, but noticed by none. His awareness of her brought out a longing she thought she’d left in the past. She wanted to be her own person, someone worthy of being noticed, not an ornament her father brought out and displayed.

  Her indecision fled with her nerves. Powered by her newfound desire, she stood and watched as he did so as well. As she took the three short steps toward him, he kept his emotionless expression fixed upon her. Before she lost her boldness, she placed her hands on his chest and pressed her lips against his.

  The kiss only lasted a second before he reeled back, but Abigail could still feel the warmth of his mouth. The experience proved more pleasant than she expected. Her eyes fell to his soft lips, and she realized she wanted to kiss him again.

  “What are you doing?”

  “T-trying to entice y-you,” she stuttered. Her gaze moved away from his mouth, but her thoughts had not.

  He narrowed his eyes. “For what purpose?”

  As the pleasant feeling wore away, Abigail felt heat burning her cheeks. Her attempt obviously failed. She wondered how much damage her poor efforts caused. Would her father punish her for this failure or make her try again?

  At that moment, the door opened, saving her from responding. Her father and mother filed into the room. Her father had a smirk on his face, no doubt in response to her close proximity to Lord Merrick. Her mother, however, didn’t even lift her eyes to see them. Abigail quickly crossed the room to take her place behind her mother.

  “Are you ready to go?” her father inquired of Lord Merrick.

  He nodded, but Abigail felt his hesitation. His rigid body and fisted hands told her more than his straight face. Was his reluctance because he didn’t have his question answered, or did it have something to do with Lord Burford’s dinner party?

  Lord Merrick puzzled her, and she had no intention of allowing the wedding to approach without knowing what she should expect first. If she could discover his secrets then perhaps she had a chance of a happy future. She could not end up like her mother.

  Greyson discretely glanced down at his pocket watch before sliding it back inside his waistcoat. Miss Doutree had been inflicting her rendition of ballads on the pianoforte upon them for almost ten minutes. Her mother proudly watched and applauded as her daughter defiled the music with her inept hands.

  Irritated, Greyson once again ran his gaze over the gathered people and stopped, seeing Lady Willimena’s eyes upon him. She immediately turned away. To his surprise, it wasn’t the first time this evening he caught her studying him. Each time he detected a glimpse of intensity in her eyes hinting at a feeling stronger than curiosity.

  His betrothed wasn’t what he expected. Her earlier attempt at enticing him told him quite a bit about the duke, but nothing of her. Seeing His Grace’s smug face had proved he’d been the one to put his daughter up to throwing herself at him.

  Greyson silently applauded the man. If he had been the type who would take advantage of an innocent, the duke would have insurance should Greyson change his mind about the bargain.

  All his thoughts centered back on Lady Willimena. Although he understood the duke’s motivations, why would his daughter agree to the plan? Judging by her innocent closed-mouth kiss, she wasn’t accustomed to male attention.

  Peering back at her, he appraised her appearance. Her hair, a dull shade of black, was pulled back so tightly in a chignon that did nothing to accentuate any positive qualities. The dress was dull as well and hung shapelessly from her body, presenting her very round figure.

  Moving his examination to her profile, Greyson paused on the first positive attribute she possessed: her mouth. Those plump red lips had been pressed up against his only hours ago. At the time, he had been too shocked to appreciate their fullness, but now he corrected his mistake through memory. He wondered how it would feel to be the first one to give her a real kiss.

  His body reacted to his thoughts, so he tore his eyes from her mouth. His gaze landed on her hideous glasses. Why would anyone agree to wear such an unfashionable pair when other choices were available that could offer a better fit?

  When the final key on the pianoforte resounded in the room, Greyson gratefully stood with the rest of the crowd as they offered praise to Miss Doutree. Similar to dinner, several of the guests looked over to him with either confusion or contempt, but the duke, true to his word, stood by him.

  “So, Merrick, how are you enjoying the evening?” the duke asked him, after shooting a disapproving glance at another man unknown to Greyson.

  “Very well.”

  After so many years of schooling his face, Greyson could not manage to force a smile. Although the night had been tedious, he didn’t wish to seem ungrateful for the invitation. In addition, he felt as though they had made progress with some of the guests.

  “I’m glad to hear it. My daughter, too, appears to be enjoying herself. I’m not sure if you noticed, but you seem to have made quite an impression on her.”

  Instinctively Greyson’s gaze fell to the topic of their discussion. She stood conversing with several ladies. When her eyes met his, a tremor rocked his body as something passed between them. He had never experienced the feeling before, and he didn’t like the discomfort it brought. Ripping his eyes away, he focused back on the duke.

  “I have noticed.”

  “I would like you to know that since this isn’t a normal courtship, the standard rules don’t apply as far as I’m concerned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Simply that if you want a private moment or two with her, I will not stand in your way.”

  Greyson nodded while trying to contain his revulsion. He wondered if Lady Willimena knew how freely her father offered her favors. Had he done this before? Was her innocent kiss simply an act? Immediately he dismissed the thought. He didn’t want to believe that sweet kiss was anything more than it appeared.

  The duke nodded to the crowd. “Well, after Miss Doutree’s cruel attempt on the pianoforte, I have decided to leave before we are forced to endure another song. Would you care to join me back at the townhouse for a nightcap?”

  “I could arrange that.”

  Although Greyson wasn’t pleased by the idea that the duke planned to trap him, he didn’t want to disregard the offer. As the man walked away to make his goodbyes, Greyson stood back and watched. Unlike the duke, he only needed to offer excuses to the host and hostess.

  It wasn’t long before he found himself sitting in the duke’s drawing room engaged in an uncomfortable silence. He was unaccustomed to making inane conversation, especially to people as important as his future relations. Resisting the urge to check the time, he wondered how long he would have to suffer through this before receiving an opportunity to excuse himself.

  “Willimena, perhaps you could entertain Lord Merrick while I escort your mother to her bedchamber,” the duke suggested. “She looks ready to fall asleep.”

  Lady Willimena cringed at the emphasis her father placed on the word “entertain.” Greyson also noted the wide-eyed concern from the duchess.

  “I’m fine, Your Grace,” the duchess protested. “Please don’t allow me to disrupt your evening.”

  “Nonsense. Please excuse us.” The duke took his wife’s arm and escorted her from the room.

  Greyson turned to Lady Willimena and was surprised to see her watching him carefully. Would she act on her father’s words? Did he want her to?

  “I see your father has no thoughts on propriety.”

  “He’s always had his own way of looking at matters.”

  Greyson nodded. He couldn’t think of anything to add. H
is experience with women didn’t stray beyond his mistresses. When Lady Willimena’s focus fell to his mouth, his heart sped. Desire was something he was accustomed to, but certainly not from an untried lady. He sat silently, waiting to see what she would do next.

  Her chest slowly rose and fell as she took a deep breath and stood. Being a gentleman, Greyson followed suit. This situation was already unconventional enough without her attempting to seduce him as well. She advanced, but her steps faltered when he shot her a disapproving glare.

  Her cheeks turned red as she wrung her hands.

  “W-would you mind if I k-kissed you again?” she stammered.

  “Do you plan to do it properly this time?” Angered by her attempt, the question slid from his tongue before he thought twice.

  Her eyes widened before falling to the ground. The honest reaction confirmed his suspicions. She was as innocent as he first believed. He resisted the urge to show his relief as he could not understand why it should matter to him.

  “Forgive me, my lord. I have never been instructed on how to kiss.” Determination shone through her eyes. “Will you teach me?”

  Although surprised by her question, he kept silent and unchanged. Despite the unconventional circumstances, they were betrothed, so kissing her would not cause harm, nor would it alter any arrangements. He committed himself to seeing this through regardless if the duke found him in a compromising position or not.

  His lack of reaction must have been encouraging, for Lady Willimena began to walk toward him again. She held her head high as her ample body pressed forward. Her gaze didn’t waver even after she stood inches from him.

  “What is your determination, my lord?” Her eyes once again centered on his mouth.

  Wanting to see her face, to look into her eyes, he reached up to remove her glasses, but she shrank back. Confused, Greyson stood still with his hands raised in the air.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised.

  She offered a small, embarrassed smile as she regained her determined stance.

  This time she remained motionless as he removed her glasses. He could see fear lurking in her green eyes. Why was she afraid of him? Surely the whispers of his being a bastard didn’t include false accounts of cruelty. Instead of reassuring her with his words, he gently cupped her face, tilting her chin up.

  He brushed his lips against hers once, twice, then a third time before she softened her rigid position and slid her hands against his chest. The slight contact sent flames licking at his body. It wasn’t enough; he needed more of her.

  While keeping one hand on her face, he wrapped the other around her to draw her against him. Although her generous curves were soft, her body didn’t emit warmth as he expected. The poor girl must have been literally frozen with fear. Using his lips to comfort her, he coaxed and teased as desire built within him.

  Not wanting to push too far, he didn’t deepen the kiss and instead pulled back. Seeing the dazed expression in her eyes made his chest nearly burst with satisfaction. Unaccustomed to interacting with innocents, pleasure filled him at the thought he could do something right.

  “That was rather pleasant,” she admitted, a little breathless.

  After he took several paces back, her pink tongue darted out of her mouth and swept her lips. Greyson followed its slow tracing of her mouth as his body went rock hard. His breathing increased, and he desperately wanted to take her back in his arms. The room felt as though the temperature increased ten degrees. With the way she looked at him, he could not stay. He had to leave now.

  “Thank you for the lovely evening.” He bowed then turned and left her standing in the middle of the room.

  The cool night air minimally helped to cool his passionate thoughts. Being alone with her in the drawing room had made him realize more than dancing lessons would be required if he were to survive in Society. Melisande had helped him with the dancing, and he had no doubt she would be able to teach him how to manage other things as well, including small talk.

  Although his end goal was in sight, he had a strange feeling his troubles were just beginning.

  Two days had passed since Abigail had seen her betrothed, so when she received a missive that morning requesting her presence for an outing in Hyde Park, she gratefully accepted. Her eagerness didn’t only stem from a desire for another kiss, but her father’s anger appeared to be growing with his impatience.

  The day following dinner at Lord and Lady Burford’s, her father had been uncharacteristically happy. His joy at the idea of soon becoming unburdened by her appeared immense. However, after receiving no word from Lord Merrick, last night her father’s anger had returned. Could it be she would be spared from beatings at his hand if Lord Merrick appeared every day?

  Her thoughts centered on her betrothed as she straightened a wrinkle out of her dress while waiting in the drawing room. He appeared to be a hard man, judging from his lack of emotions, and she wondered how deep his rage went. Was he the type of man who would beat his wife immediately, or would he give her time to accustom herself first? Maybe that part would not be so bad if the other time remained filled with his kisses.

  “Your Grace,” Lewis acknowledged her mother. “Viscount Merrick has arrived and is requesting an audience with Lady Willimena.”

  “Allow him entrance in five minutes.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Lewis bowed and left the room.

  “Willimena, go to your bedchamber. Don’t return for a quarter of an hour.”

  Realizing her mother’s plan, Abigail’s heart pumped wildly. Surely her mother would not defy the duke.

  “Not this time. You can’t make him leave.”

  “I don’t see why not. I have succeeded with every other suitor.”

  “That isn’t what I meant. Father is determined to have me marry Lord Merrick. If I chase him away, the consequences will be severe.”

  “But your father will never know who brought about the viscount’s flight. He never discovered it with any of the others.”

  Abigail sighed. Her mother’s eyes were bright with eagerness. On one hand, Abigail loved seeing the spark return to her mother on the rare occasion she could offer assistance, but deep inside, Abigail knew the wrongness of this. Money or some form of compensation had been exchanged between her father and the viscount, she felt positive of it. Never had he endorsed a gentleman so fully, until now.

  “Have you not noticed how different Father is with Lord Merrick?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No,” Abigail whispered, worried their five minutes had passed. “I’ll marry Viscount Merrick.”

  Her mother didn’t respond. She simply pressed her lips together and turned away. Abigail always hated seeing her mother turn back into a shell of herself, but she hated even more the fact that she’d caused the transformation. The one thing saving her from regret came from the reminder of the beatings they would be saved from if Lord Merrick’s interest continued.

  Glancing to the doorway, Abigail saw her betrothed appear. As her eyes took him in, her heart sped. He was a handsome man, and the sight of him brought back memories of the wondrous kiss they’d shared. Staring at his mouth made her body tingle and her lips part in anticipation. Would he kiss her again today?

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Lord Merrick bowed. “Lady Willimena.”

  “Good afternoon, my lord. Would you care to join us?” Her mother indicated a chair that appeared to have been strategically selected for discomfort.

  “I would be delighted.”

  As he sat, Abigail cringed to see determination gleam in her mother’s eyes. Clearly she had not given up on her plan. Instead, she would hold the conversation with Abigail here to watch.

  “Tell me, Lord Merrick, how long have you been in London?”

  “Quite some time. I have resided in London for a number of years.”

  “Hmm, I wonder why I have never seen you before. We, too, have resided in London for the majority of the year, and there is n
ever a shortage of social gatherings.”

  “I’m not one to be seen socializing frequently.”

  Lord Merrick’s eyes were hard as they transfixed on her mother. Abigail wondered what about the question angered him. As his wife, she would have to learn which subjects were safe and which ones were not.

  “That is odd,” her mother observed.

  The viscount’s hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly, she feared for her mother’s safety. Jumping to her feet, Abigail put herself between them and faced Lord Merrick.

  “I believe I’m ready to go to Hyde Park now. I understand my cousin and her husband will be there, and I would enjoy an opportunity to converse with them.”

  “As you wish.” The shock in his tone confused her. She didn’t know if it stemmed from the mention of her cousin or the fact she put herself between them.

  As she stepped outside, the lovely weather pleased her and wiped away her previous concern. The sun shone on her face, and the cool breeze always managed to put her in good spirits. As Lord Merrick handed her into the carriage, she noticed his face appeared less severe than usual. She imagined the weather pleased him as well.

  “Do you enjoy outings at Hyde Park?” he inquired as the horses set off toward the park.

  “Certainly. It’s a wonderful place to soc . . .” She caught herself before saying, ‘socialize.’ It would take time to remember his triggers. “. . . seek out friends.”

  “I see.” He looked over at her with a question in his eyes that he didn’t voice.

  Her cheeks began to burn, so she turned her face away. The space was cramped, and their bodies too close. Although being alone with him in a situation she could not escape from felt different, for some reason she wasn’t afraid.

  “What other activities do you enjoy?” he pressed.

  She peered back over at him. On the surface his question was common, but something about how he delivered the line sounded rehearsed. Why would a titled lord not be accustomed to socializing and be uncomfortable with small talk? She wanted to ask but knew the consequences would be unpleasant.