Wagering for Miss Blake

by Callie Hutton

  After making two rounds about the room, they joined Alex, Patience, Lord Hawkins, and Lord Campbell gathered in a grouping of chairs and a settee. The men held drinks, and Patience sipped from a teacup. She smiled as they joined them. “Would you care for tea, Mr. Templeton?”

  “Tea?” Alex chortled. “Give the man a glass of brandy.” He motioned to a footman and asked for the bottle of brandy to be brought.

  “Sit next to me, Suzanna.” Patience scooted over to make room.

  Mr. Templeton turned his attention to the duke. The four men hovered together, but occasionally, Mr. Templeton glanced in her direction.

  “You seem to have acquired an admirer.” Patience smiled at her over her teacup rim. “Mr. Templeton hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he entered the room.”

  “I know.” Suzanna sighed. “He is really a very nice gentleman.” She continued speaking as her eyes once more drifted to the group of men. “Even before Alex mentioned it, I’d heard about Mr. Templeton’s reputation with the ladies.”

  “Exaggerated, I am sure. I have spent some time with Alex’s three friends, and they all impress me as solid, responsible men.” She tilted her head sideways as she regarded them and smiled. “Although every one of them turns heads when they enter a ballroom.”

  Patience placed her teacup on the table in front of her, stood, and shook out her skirts. “I believe I will retire for the evening. Would you care to join me for a few minutes in my sitting room before we go to bed?”

  “I would love to. It’s been ages since we had a nice long visit.” Arms linked, they moved toward the group of men.

  “Your Grace, I find myself a bit fatigued, so I will be retiring.”

  Her betrothed broke away from the group and took Patience’s hand, moving her away from Suzanna. They bent their heads in conversation.

  “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Miss Blake.” Mr. Templeton smiled down at her, and once more his near presence took her breath away. His eyes mesmerized her, and she had the silly urge to push back a lock of chestnut brown hair that had fallen on his forehead.

  Instead, she backed up a bit lest Patience’s mother, Aunt Harriet, notice the attention Mr. Templeton was paying her. Her aunt was fully aware of Suzanna’s mother’s edict about not encouraging any man without a title.

  The last thing Suzanna needed was for Aunt Harriet to take it upon herself to pen a note to Mother. Despite her ague, her mother would surely rise from her sick bed and descend upon Suzanna at Lord and Lady Montford’s townhouse. “Thank you, Mr. Templeton.” She gave him a slight curtsy and took Patience’s arm as they headed upstairs to the future duchess’s sitting room.

  Tomorrow would be an interesting day, and not just because her beloved cousin was marrying her true love.

  Chapter Two

  Giles had watched Miss Blake dance with several men, old and young, in the hour and a half the musicians had entertained the guests at the reception following the wedding breakfast. He bided his time, waiting for his waltz, which the master of ceremonies had told him would be the next number played.

  Before anyone had the chance to usurp him, he made his way across the room and extended his hand. “I believe the next dance is mine.”

  “Indeed?” Although her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline, the twitching of her lips told him she found his smugness amusing.

  He grinned, continuing to hold out his hand when the music started. As promised, the musicians played a waltz. He made a deep bow. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Blake?”

  She took his hand and followed him to the dance floor. He turned and swung her into his arms, perhaps a bit closer than was considered proper. They fit together perfectly and danced as though they’d done so many times before. “Are you enjoying the music?”

  “Yes, I am. I love to dance, and it’s been wonderful to have so many opportunities to do so.”

  “I’ve noticed.” He twirled them around a slower-moving couple. “Oftentimes young ladies dance because it’s expected, or they feel it’s a way to garner a man’s attentions. You dance for the absolute enjoyment of it. It shows in your face and in how you move.”

  “Have you been watching me?” If that thought frightened her, it was not reflected in her eyes. She studied him, as if she were searching for something.

  “I have, and I’ve had a great deal of pleasure in doing so.” Moving them into a turn, his legs briefly brushed against hers, his skin burning where they touched. She looked up quickly and licked her lips. Perhaps she had felt it, too?

  “As I mentioned last evening, I would like to see you again when we are in London. Perhaps I may call at your cousins’ home? Or you might enjoy a ride in the park?”

  She shook her head slowly and looked away from him. “No. That is perhaps not the best thing to do.”

  “Does your cousin not approve of gentlemen calling on you? Is that not the purpose of the Season?”

  Miss Blake hesitated, and chewed her lower lip, as if she were trying to find a way to say something she did not want to tell him. “No, my cousin would not object.”

  “Then?” He did not believe she didn’t hold an interest in his attentions. She had been far too receptive to his subtle advances so far. He’d had enough experience with women to know when one was amenable and when one was not. “Do you find me offensive?”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly, avoiding his eyes.

  “Boring, or disagreeable?”

  She gasped as he pulled her close to avoid another couple who had stopped in the middle of the dance floor to argue. “No, Mr. Templeton, you are not offensive, boring, or disagreeable. You are, in fact, quite pleasant and charming.”

  She said the last part as though she were insulting him instead of offering a compliment. “And you find pleasant and charming not to your liking?” He smiled, trying to cajole her out of the somber mood the conversation had put her in.

  “Not at all.”

  “Oh, I see. So, you find pleasant and charming distasteful only in me?” His grin grew wider at the flush on her face. The music stopped, and he held onto her hand. “Walk with me.”

  He led her toward the French doors. “Will you allow me to escort you to the patio? There are several couples out there.”

  She nodded, and he opened the door and allowed her to pass through in front of him. Taking her arm, he led her to a small stone bench under a large elm tree. The sun had just started its final descent in the sky, leaving the entire area bathed in a golden glow. They sat, and she turned to face him.

  He studied her for a minute. “What is it you are trying so very hard not to tell me?”

  Miss Blake took a deep breath and looked away from him, examining the newly planted flower garden. When a full minute passed, and she still had not answered him, he placed his finger under her chin and turned her head. “What is it, Miss Blake?”

  “It is nothing of great importance. My goodness, such a fuss.” She drew her head away, smoothed out her skirts, and attempted a smile.

  She failed.

  “Since there is nothing of great importance that you feel you need to tell me, then I will proceed as I said, and call on you when we return to London.”

  Miss Blake stiffened her shoulders and looked him in the eye. Whatever it was she wanted to say, he gave her credit for facing it square on. “Perhaps I do not want you to call on me.”

  “I see.” Although he certainly did not. This woman was definitely attracted to him. “And why is that?” She appeared to become more agitated.

  “Mr. Templeton, I am flattered that you wish to call on me in London, but I am afraid I will be quite busy and will be unable to receive you or accompany you on rides to the park.”

  “Hmm. That doesn’t answer my question.” He dipped his head to look at her face.

  Suzanna studied her lap and pinched the fabric of her gown, avoiding his gaze. “Because nothing could come of it.” The whispered words were barely out when she jumped up, but b
efore she could race away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. “Why not?”

  She looked away, studying the fading sun behind the trees surrounding them. Taking a deep breath, she looked up. Her beautiful blue eyes, that had held him captive since they’d met, regarded him sadly. “Because I may encourage only men with a title.”

  He released her hand and she rose, then hurried back to the ballroom, her hips swaying enticingly, leaving her flowery scent behind.

  …

  One week later

  Suzanna joined Lord and Lady Montford at the top of the stairs as the butler announced them at the Linden ball. This was the first event they’d attended since Patience’s wedding. Suzanna had spent a few days with her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Wilton, before the Montfords arrived in London to open their townhouse for the Season.

  If she’d had a hard time relegating the very tempting Mr. Templeton to the back of her mind, the arrival of Mother’s missive that morning had reminded her she needed to forget him entirely.

  Remember, my dear daughter, it is my fondest wish that you marry well. Anyone can marry, but my daughter, with her beauty and charm, can have any man she wants. A titled man, a man of consequence.

  I am sorry I cannot be with you at this crucial time in your life, to advise you and encourage you to aim for the best. Keep your reputation unsullied and go forth and enjoy yourself. Make your mother proud.

  With Great Fondness, Mother

  Despite Mother’s words, ’twas not easy to forget Mr. Templeton’s broad shoulders, teasing smile, quick wit, and most of all, the flattering attention he paid her. When they’d gone outside together, she’d been certain he’d planned to kiss her. The thought had excited her, but instead of receiving her first kiss, she’d made an abrupt departure. Once she’d blurted out her preference for a title, she’d not had the courage to look at his face to see what he’d thought of a woman who was only interested in such shallow things.

  Mother’s words any man she wants had run through her mind for the rest of the day, until she’d grown weary of the sentence. Of course, Mother had not meant “any man” because if Suzanna brought home a tradesman—or the horror—any man without a title, he would be dismissed out of hand. She could have any man she wanted if—a small but powerful word—said man held a title. He could be a philanderer, a gambler, a drunkard, abusive, or any number of nasty things that can be found in a man, but as long as he held a title, he would be welcomed into the bosom of her family with open arms.

  Susanna sighed and shook herself back to the present. The ballroom had been gaily decorated in honor of Lady Esther, who was making her debut this Season. Huge vases of flowers were tucked into each corner, next to every piece of furniture left in the room. Flowers were wrapped around picture frames, draped from the walls, gathered together in bunches, and tied with enormous pink bows.

  Hundreds of candles glowed from chandeliers and candelabras, reflecting off the numerous mirrors along the east wall, creating a beautiful backdrop for the colorful gowns and jewels sparkling in the light.

  Lady Esther was swathed in pale pink, beribboned and ruffled so she looked like an exploded wedding cake. Suzanna shook her head. It seemed the Season was already overdone. She could only guess that every debut ball going forward would attempt to outdo one another.

  She scanned the crowd, telling herself she was not searching for anyone in particular. But she couldn’t lie, not even to herself.

  As she and her chaperone wandered the room, her dance card was signed several times. Mother would be pleased. Every man who’d requested a dance had a title.

  Are you happy, Mother?

  Halfway through a lively country dance, the butler announced Mr. Giles Templeton, Lord Hawkins, and Lord Campbell. Suzanna almost tripped over her own feet as the three men descended the stairs, one more handsome and compelling than the other.

  The room held its collective breath as the trio reached the bottom of the staircase. Fans fluttered, young ladies sighed, and marriage-minded mamas rallied, ready to present their darling daughters to the men.

  If only she felt the same draw to Lord Hawkins or Lord Campbell, she might consider this a successful Season. But it was the sight of Mr. Giles Templeton that caused her heart to flutter in her chest, and not due to the efforts of the lively dance. Determined to put him out of her mind, she cast a brilliant smile on her partner, Lord Thomas, who then stumbled.

  He swung her into a final turn, they both bowed and dipped a curtsy, and the dance ended. “I feel a bit parched, my lord, after that rousing number. Would you mind escorting me to the refreshment table?”

  “Of course, Miss Blake.” Lord Thomas extended his arm, and they took the slow walk to the wall where the lemonade and ratafia were being served.

  He took a sip of the lemonade and said, “May I call on you, Miss Blake?”

  Here it comes, then, the men who Mother would love to call son-in-law would start showing their interest. “Of course, my lord, I would be flattered.”

  “Then perhaps I may call on you as well.” The deep, warm, already-familiar voice of Mr. Templeton almost made her spit out the mouthful of lemonade. Thank heaven for quick reflexes. She turned and offered him what she hoped was a warm, but not encouraging, smile. “Good evening, Mr. Templeton. I did not see you arrive.”

  He raised one eyebrow and offered his lazy smile. She cringed. He’d probably seen her gaping at him and his friends as they arrived.

  “Mere moments ago.” He nodded in his lordship’s direction. “Thomas.”

  “Templeton.”

  For heaven’s sake, they both stared at each other as if they were preparing to turn their backs to walk twenty paces, then turn and shoot.

  Mr. Templeton redirected his attention to her. “May I request a dance, Miss Blake?”

  “Of course.” She held out the small card dangling from her wrist. Mr. Templeton glanced at it, then jotted his name in one of the spaces. “Pity all the waltzes are taken.”

  Lord Thomas bowed. “You must excuse me, Miss Blake, but I need to find my partner for this next dance.”

  Suzanna nodded and tried her best not to glance back at Mr. Templeton.

  “Ignoring me is not going to work. I have no intention of ignoring you. And you have not answered my question. May I call on you?”

  She sighed and looked him in the eye. “We have already had this conversation.”

  “Yes, we have. But, unfortunately, it did not end in my favor, so I would like to have it again.”

  Why, oh why, does this man appeal to me so? She wanted very much to dismiss him, and his intentions, but the draw was simply too strong. Would it be fair to allow him to dance attendance on her when she knew there was no future for them?

  She opened her mouth to decline his request—in a gentle tone, of course—then said, “If you wish to call upon me during Lady Montford’s calling hours, I don’t believe I can stop you.”

  His eyes narrowed, then a smile touched his lips, giving him a look he had, no doubt, honed to perfection over the years. “I guess that is sufficient for now, but don’t believe for one minute I am accepting your halfhearted acquiescence.”

  “Are you always so certain of yourself, then?” The man’s arrogance was beginning to chafe.

  “My dear Miss Blake, I always prevail. Whether it is cards, racing, financial investments, or a young lady’s attention.”

  Before she could come up with a snappy retort at his high-handedness, Lord Twinnings approached, his brow damp, and the few strands of hair remaining on his head plastered to his scalp, most likely from an energetic dance. “My dance, I believe?” He reached out for her, and before she took his hand, he delved into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief that he used to pat his forehead. “Quite warm in here, eh?”

  Mr. Templeton gave him a dismissive glance, then waved at her dance card. “I shall return for my dance.” With a slight bow, he turned and left her to make his way through the couples joining the que
ue.

  For most of the dance with Lord Twinnings, she prayed the poor man would not collapse at her feet. He was a bit on the corpulent side and seemed to have trouble gaining his breath. His forehead continued to drip perspiration, and instead of reaching again for his handkerchief, he simply swiped his brow with the back of his hand.

  Thank goodness for gloves.

  After a few more dances, Suzanna was ready for a rest, but she noted on her card that Lord Benson was next. A waltz. If only she could find a way out of the dance and perhaps spend a few minutes in the fresh air.

  Lady Montford had been absent most of the evening thus far. She was an avid card player, and Suzanna was certain that she’d found her evening’s entertainment in the card room. Suzanna was more than happy to not have her chaperone watching over her, even though Cousin Eunice was a wonderful woman.

  The orchestra started up again, and she sighed, waiting for Lord Benson to claim her. “My dance, Miss Blake.” She shivered and turned quickly.

  “Mr. Templeton?” She fumbled with her card and checked it. “This is Lord Benson’s dance.”

  “Ah, he was affable enough to surrender this one to me.” He extended his elbow to her and, still confused at this sudden change, she placed her hand on his arm. “But, how did you know? I mean, how—”

  “No need to worry. I asked him, and he agreed.” He turned her so they were facing each other. He placed his warm hand at her lower back, took her hand in his, and the music began.

  “You are holding me too close, Mr. Templeton.” She stepped back, and to his credit, he softened his grip.

  “My apologies.”

  She noted his athletic grace as he guided her around the ballroom floor. His movements were fluid; his long legs brushed against hers as they turned. She spent the first few minutes staring at his cravat, then eventually looked up into his laughing eyes staring back at her. “Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Blake?”