‘I am not perfectly sure what to do,’ she murmured. ‘Do I not have to go up to claim the prize?’
‘No, no.’ Amanda cast her an amused look. ‘I forgot that you said you had not played the lottery before, Amy. Is this really your first time?’
‘Of course it is,’ Amy said. She felt confused. No doubt she would wake in her narrow bed in Curzon Street at any moment. ‘This is not even my own lottery ticket, you know, Amanda—’
Amanda was not really listening. She was too excited. ‘Lud, and you won the prize at the first go! In order to claim the money you need to attend one of the lottery offices. They will pay your winnings. Or, better still, send your man of business. You would likely need a platoon of soldiers to guard you against robbery were you to go yourself! Now, where is your carriage? We need to get you safely home before someone realises who you are and kidnaps you or murders you for your ticket!’
Amy shuddered, clutching her reticule to her. ‘Amanda, tell me that you are in jest! I have no carriage and I walked here from Curzon Street.’
Amanda stopped and looked at her, concern replacing the amusement in her eyes. ‘Here’s a to-do! No carriage! What are we to do now?’
‘I was hoping to find Richard here, you see, and thought that he might escort me home.’ Amy was prevaricating, thinking that this was scarcely the time to start explaining to her old friend that she did not have the means to run a carriage. She looked around frantically but there was no friendly face in the crowd. People were drifting away now, tearing up their tickets. The pieces fluttered in the breeze.
‘We cannot take a hack,’ Amanda was saying with a frown. ‘Why, you might be down an alleyway and despatched to heaven before one could say lottery!’
Amy gave a little moan. ‘I shall give away the ticket before anything ill befalls me—’
‘That you shall not!’ There was a martial light in Amanda’s eyes. ‘You need this money, Amy. This simply requires a little thought—’
‘Lady Spry, Miss Bainbridge, I thought that I recognised you. May I be of service?’
Amy turned and almost dropped her reticule with the precious ticket in it. The Duke of Fleet had drawn up beside them in his phaeton and now handed the reins to his groom and jumped down beside them. He looked large, genial and, in some respects at least, the answer to their prayers. Amy smiled and curtsied, but though he bowed in reply, she had the strangest feeling that he had not really seen her. The explanation was not far to seek. Fleet’s gaze was fixed on Amanda’s charming countenance. He looked utterly smitten. Amy suddenly remembered the balls during her come-out season, where Amanda had been like a little golden honey pot around which all the gentlemen buzzed. Amanda had not been spoiled by the attention; she had laughed at her admirers with good humour, treated them all with equal favour but had never done anything to upset Frank Spry, who seemed pleased that his new wife was so sought after. Now, however, Amy was surprised to see that the Duke’s chivalry was not warmly received. Indeed Amanda was looking most uncomfortable, her face flushed, her head turned a little away so that the brim of her bonnet shielded her from the gentleman’s gaze.
‘Thank you, your Grace, but I am sure we shall fare quite well on our own—’
‘Miss Bainbridge will vouch for me, I am sure,’ Sebastian Fleet said, with another slight bow in Amy’s direction. ‘I am a friend of her brother and very willing to offer my escort back to Curzon Street if that is what you wish.’
Amy was torn. On the one hand, she barely knew the Duke and what she did know of him scarcely disposed her to be friendly towards him, for was he not a gambler and a wastrel, the very type of man she deplored? On the other hand, they were in a slightly delicate situation and Fleet was a friend of her brother and could surely be relied upon to provide a safe escort…
‘I am sure we may safely accept the Duke’s offer, Amanda,’ Amy said, a little reluctantly. She wondered if her friend was concerned in case the Duke was one of the thieves and kidnappers she had just been mentioning. Surely not. She could not believe that Fleet, for all his faults, would stoop to criminality to fund his gambling. Amanda’s reservations must be based on some other concern—the Duke’s womanising, perhaps.
She turned to him hopefully. ‘I do not suppose, your Grace, that Richard is with you? I have been searching for him this hour past…’
Fleet shook his head. ‘I fear not, Miss Bainbridge. Joss Tallant is with me, however, and will be very glad to take you up whilst I escort Lady Spry.’
A strange prickling sensation on the back of her neck prompted Amy to turn her head. The Earl of Tallant was walking towards them. He was immaculately dressed in a black coat, buff pantaloons and black top boots with a high polish. He looked elegantly austere, as though his attire was in direct contradiction to the extravagance of his reputation. As he saw Amy turn towards him, he smiled in quizzical amusement, allowing his gaze to travel over her thoughtfully. His appraisal was as deliberate as it had been the night they had met and Amy found it both curious and disconcerting. She was assailed by a strange breathlessness, which she would have liked to have attributed to the excitement of winning a fortune. Honesty compelled her to admit, however, that it probably had a different cause. There was no doubt that Joss Tallant’s company was enough to fluster any young lady, but she did not intend to succumb.
‘Joss, my boy,’ the Duke drawled as the Earl joined them, ‘I was just pledging you to escort Miss Bainbridge back to Curzon Street. I am taking Lady Spry up with me.’
The Earl bowed. ‘Thank you, Sebastian. I am, of course, delighted, Miss Bainbridge…’
Amy had always been sensitive to slights—her up-bringing and her come-out had made it inevitable. Now she fancied that she heard a note of resigned amusement in Joss’s voice and at the same time she thought she recognised the expression in his eyes. It was the one she knew from the faces of all the young men who had approached Amanda for a dance, found she was already engaged, and realised that good manners obliged them to dance with her friend instead when they had no wish to do so. She felt herself blush.
‘There is no need to inconvenience yourself, my lord. I am persuaded that we shall soon find my brother—’
Amanda, who had been uncharacteristically silent to this point, added her own protestations. ‘Oh, indeed, we may manage very well on our own…’
The Earl flashed Fleet a look of amusement. ‘Your fabled charm appears to have failed signally here, Seb! Miss Bainbridge…’ he smiled at Amy ‘…I fear that your brother is not at the Guildhall. He told me last night that he had an appointment at the Cocoa Tree this morning. Lady Spry—’ he bowed to Amanda ‘—I can assure you that Sebastian is the most harmless of fellows and that you are quite safe in his company! I’ll have my horses brought around…’
There seemed to be little choice and, indeed, Amy was glad on balance to have the escort. The thought of walking alone through the streets of London with a ticket worth thirty thousand pounds in her reticule was enough to make her blood run cold and, even if it was Richard’s money rather than her own, she had a responsibility to get it home safely. Already she was starting to think of ways in which she might influence her brother to part with a little for the benefit of the family, before he gambled the rest away. He was generous—she was sure that he could be persuaded to give her a thousand pounds to make the Curzon Street house more comfortable. They could supplement their diet with some beef, perhaps, and even—Amy felt quite excited—buy a new outfit or two for the autumn.
She stole a look at Joss Tallant as he helped her up into the phaeton. There was something reassuring about a bodyguard even if he did not know that he was performing such a function, although the Earl of Tallant was probably not the man that one would freely choose as a bodyguard—quite the reverse, in fact, if all the rumours were true. Although she was an innocent in the ways of the world, Amy had heard enough of Joss’s exploits to know that his company was damaging to a lady’s reputation. Further, she had heard that
he would damage more than a mere reputation if he so chose. She remembered Lady Bainbridge telling her of a shocking occasion on which the Duke of Fleet and the Earl of Tallant had held up Lord Gibson’s coach for a wager and whilst Fleet had relieved the occupants of their money and jewellery, Joss Tallant had relieved Lady Gibson of her virtue. It had been a long time ago but, as far as Amy was concerned, it epitomised the other reason that Joss Tallant was quite beyond the pale—apart from being a wastrel, of course. Really, Amy thought candidly, as she made herself comfortable on the phaeton’s seat, the man had nothing to recommend him. His entire life was one big waste of time.
Amy glanced at him again from beneath her lashes. To be fair, Joss Tallant was prodigiously good looking and he was also quite charming, both of which qualities would help in his career of seduction. But she also felt that she was quite safe with him. She had never met any gentleman who had been intent on damaging her reputation. She was simply not the sort of girl who attracted amorous overtures from a man.
On that thought Amy relaxed, looked at the view and enjoyed the rare pleasure of being driven. Richard seldom took her up in his curricle these days and she had occasionally taken a drive in the Park with a gentleman during her season, but not very often. This was different. Joss Tallant was a whip of enviable skill and he made the driving seem very easy, which Amy suspected it was not. They had emerged from the Guildhall Yard now and were picking their way through the crowded streets. The noise and crush was enough to make the highly bred team of greys jib, but Joss controlled them with ease. Amy was impressed, although she resolved to keep quiet whilst her companion undertook the difficult task of navigating through the crowds.
‘I am surprised to find you at the lottery draw, Miss Bainbridge,’ Joss said, when he was able to take his attention from the team for a moment. ‘When we spoke yesterday I formed the strong opinion that you disapproved of gambling.’
Amy glanced at him. He was smiling at her in what seemed an entirely genuine manner. She gave him a slight smile of her own in return. She might not like the man, or trust him, more to the point, but he was doing her a service and she could at least be polite.
‘Oh, well, I do disapprove of gambling in the general run of things, but I thought to meet Richard at the draw, only it appears that we had a misunderstanding. He had a ticket for the lottery but he left it behind and I was bringing it for him. I would not have attended otherwise.’
‘I see.’ Joss’s amber gaze flicked over her face thoughtfully, making her intensely aware of his scrutiny. ‘What did you think of it?’
‘The draw?’ Amy raised her brows. ‘I had not expected it to be so popular. I can understand the appeal of it, I suppose. For most people, winning thirty thousand pounds would change their lives completely. It is a tempting thought.’
‘But a dangerous one?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Amy remembered the excitement that her seized her in the Guildhall as the tension built before the draw. ‘It is addictive and costly. If you do not have the money to support your obsession, yet you buy tickets time and time again in the hope of winning—’
‘You could end up ruined and in the street,’ Joss finished for her.
Amy turned her face away. ‘That can happen whatever the form of gambling.’ The memory of her father’s wilful squandering of the family’s fortune was still as fresh in her mind as when it had occurred and she had to swallow hard and push the memory away.
Joss took his hand from the reins and touched hers, so lightly, Amy wondered whether she had imagined it.
‘Forgive me, Miss Bainbridge. I see it is a painful subject for you and I should not have raised it.’
Amy met his gaze. They looked at each other for what seemed a long moment, and then she shook her head slowly.
‘You are too generous, my lord, letting me off so easily. If I hold strong opinions, then I feel I must defend them and not hide behind convention.’
She saw the smile creep into Joss’s eyes like sunlight on water and strangely it made her shiver.
‘That is very honest of you, Miss Bainbridge. I admire that.’
Amy shrugged, a little embarrassed. ‘I know that I must sound like a reformer at times! In mitigation I can only plead that I have seen the ruinous effects of gambling at first hand and therefore feel at liberty to view it as a most pernicious disease!’
‘That is, of course, your privilege, Miss Bainbridge,’ Joss said, smiling. ‘I can only argue in defence that it gives a lot of us a great deal of pleasure!’
‘Including my brother. I believe that we had this conversation yesterday, my lord. I do not think it wise that we should pursue it since we evidently hold such differing views.’
Joss inclined his head. ‘We shall not speak of it if that is your wish, Miss Bainbridge, but I confess that one thing puzzles me. I have thought much on this since our discussion yesterday. How comes it that your brother is so ardent a gambler and you are the utter opposite? Such a freak of nature requires explanation!’
Amy was surprised into a laugh. ‘Oh! Well, there was my father’s example, I suppose. Richard takes after him. They say that gambling breeds gambling.’
‘Yet you did not follow your father’s example. In your case it bred an utter distaste for the sport!’
‘It is not a sport, my lord,’ Amy said severely. ‘I consider sport to be something requiring more physical effort than the throwing of a dice!’
Despite herself, she could not help running her eye over him and could not deny that he was in infinitely better shape than a man deserved to be who spent all his time at the gaming tables or in bawdy houses. Then she saw the amusement in his eyes and felt herself blush scarlet.
‘What is it, Miss Bainbridge? Do I not look suitably dissipated to fit your image of a wastrel?’
‘Oh!’ Amy was mortified. Not only had he caught her staring, but he was uncannily good at reading her thoughts. ‘I beg your pardon—’
‘Do not. I would rather have your brand of honesty than the artifice of most conversation!’ Joss smiled. ‘Tell me, Miss Bainbridge, have you ever dared to play yourself?’ He flicked her a mocking glance. ‘A hand of whist? A game of vingt-et-un, perhaps? You might find that you actually enjoyed yourself!’
‘You make it sound quite tempting and the height of decadence, sir,’ Amy said, a dimple appearing in her cheek as she smiled back. She was struggling against feeling in charity with him and was finding it surprisingly difficult. The man’s charm was almost tangible and she was not so naïve that she did not realise he was turning it deliberately on her. The only thing left to wonder at was why he was bothering to do so. It could hardly mean anything.
‘I have played cards, of course, but never for money. How could I when I have no fortune—’ She broke off, remembering the fortune that she carried with her now. Thirty thousand pounds. It was a huge sum of money and the thought of it made her feel quite faint.
‘A lack of fortune seems to be no hindrance to most gamblers,’ Joss drawled. ‘They play upon nothing but a promise.’
‘Your words describe Richard to the life,’ Amy said, a little sadly. ‘Which is why, my lord, I have no wish to fall into the same trap myself. Two gamblers in the Bainbridge family would be two too many.’
They turned into the Aldwych. The horses’ hooves rang on the cobbles. The light breeze stung Amy’s cheeks to a pretty pink.
‘Do you really believe that gambling runs in families?’ Joss asked, watching her with interest. ‘Is that why you are not inclined to try it? Are you afraid to step onto the slippery slope yourself, Miss Bainbridge, for fear of very ruin? It is a piquant thought!’
Amy blushed. ‘I have no fear of being led astray, my lord,’ she said, with a very direct look. ‘If you are speaking of gambling, I think that it is an excuse to see it as an inherited tendency. One does not fall heir to it, like so much gold or a parcel of land! It is no more than a weakness indulged in by people with too much time on their hands and not enough directi
on!’ She shot him a look that was slightly ashamed, saw that he was smiling quizzically and let her breath out on a long sigh. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. I had no wish to sound so opinionated, but in my defence I should add that you did provoke me.’
‘I did indeed,’ Joss murmured. For a second Amy could have sworn that she saw a flash of admiration in his eyes. It seemed unlikely, however, and after a moment his gaze was fixed on the road once again. ‘I had no idea, Miss Bainbridge, that the result of my provocation would be so stimulating. You have stronger mettle than you show.’
Amy looked away, staring with determination at the familiar sights of Pall Mall. It was curious but true that conversing with Joss Tallant did have a strange attraction that she had never experienced before. Never in her life would she have imagined that she could have so interesting a discussion with a man with whom she had nothing in common. And therein lay the rub. Joss Tallant inhabited a society that might be parallel to her own but was in all particulars utterly different. She did not belong to the world of society balls, dashing rakes and inveterate gamblers. She had neither the means nor the inclination. She did not even like Joss’s pursuits; she despised them. The whole thing was ridiculous.
Amy sighed. Soon they would be in Piccadilly and then home, and she knew she would not see Joss Tallant again. She would give Richard his lottery ticket and the good news of his win and then she would watch him gamble it all away to line the pockets of men such as Joss and the Duke of Fleet.
The Duke’s phaeton was ahead of them as they drove down Piccadilly and Amy could see that the Duke was speaking to Amanda, and that her friend’s animated face was turned up to his as she smiled and replied. Evidently Amanda’s reserve had melted under the onslaught of Fleet’s charm. Amy had thought on that first night that these men were dangerous but now she was beginning to see just how perilous they could be, with their careless charm and polished address. Her head was screwed on with practicality and commonsense, but she could feel it turning even so.
The Earl's Prize Page 7
