Wagering for Miss Blake

by Callie Hutton

  Giles grinned in his friends’ direction. “A man on a mission needs time to plan and maneuver.”

  Cam snorted. “As I said, win the girl, so we can go back to the way things were before you became addlepated.”

  One by one, the carriages came to a rolling stop. The deep green grass, an array of wildflowers, and the bright sunshine made for a perfect picnic spot. Tables and chairs had been set up in a large grassy area, brimming with starched white tablecloths, china, silver, and crystal. Giles smirked. A typical ton picnic.

  About five hundred yards ahead, a small lake, the sun glistening on the soft waves like diamonds, gave the area a littoral feel. Several bobbing rowboats had been secured to a wharf that extended into the water.

  More than a dozen women, in an array of colorful gowns with matching parasols—quickly opened to protect delicate skin—spilled from the carriages, exclaiming delight over one another as if they had not been at the same house party together for days. Giles rode Gallant to a small wooded area where he dismounted, turning his horse over to the groom who had been stationed there.

  Suzanna rested her parasol on her shoulder. Her pale rose gown, with a deeper rose ribbon under the breasts and along the hem, brought out the creaminess of her skin that rose tantalizingly above her neckline. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she chatted with Lady Honora.

  All he could think of was striding across the space separating them, throwing her over his shoulder, and returning to the house to find the nearest bed. But those thoughts were dangerous, given his body’s reaction and the fact that he was in public.

  He joined Cam and Hawk as the group headed to the tables and chairs. Servants were pouring champagne and lemonade. Suzanna settled in a chair, safely guarded by Lady Honora on one side, Miss St. George on the other, and Miss Fenster across from her.

  Well played, Miss Blake.

  Not to be deterred, he wandered over to the table and sat alongside Miss Fenster, immediately giving his attention to Suzanna. “Tell me, Miss Blake, are you adept in pall-mall? I understand there’s to be a game before luncheon is served.”

  She waved her hand at him. “I’m afraid I have no talent in sports, Mr. Templeton.”

  “Excellent!”

  Her eyes flew to his face, obviously startled. “Excuse me?”

  “I have never enjoyed the game, myself, so I hope when the others play, you might join me in a walk around the area. There are some exquisite flowers I would love to show you.”

  Giles worked hard to keep from bursting out with laughter at the conundrum he’d just caused her. She would have to be downright rude to refuse him in front of the others. His fingers tucked into the pockets of his waistcoat, he leaned back in his chair, watching her wrestle with her desire to smack him over the head with her parasol.

  “Certainly, Mr. Templeton. I would love to take a stroll with you.” The words barely made it past her clenched teeth, her jaw was so tightened. She had the look on her face of having just tasted something horrid.

  “Wonderful. While we wait for the game to start up, may I bring you ladies some champagne or lemonade?”

  “I would love lemonade,” Miss St. George said, her face quite red, which he didn’t think had come from the little bit of sun to which she’d been exposed.

  “Lemonade for me, as well, Mr. Templeton.” Both Miss Fenster and Lady Honora spoke at the same time.

  He looked in Suzanna’s direction, his brows raised.

  “I would prefer champagne, if you please.” She offered him a brittle smile. If looks could kill a man, his funeral would be the next morning.

  Instead of signaling a footman, he returned with a tray he’d confiscated from one of the servants and distributed the drinks to the ladies. He sat and conversed with them until Lady Honora stood and said, “I believe this is a good time to form teams for pall-mall.” She moved away from the table, calling the guests to gather.

  Giles jumped up and pulled back Miss Fenster’s and Miss St. George’s chairs. They shook their skirts and followed Lady Honora. Suzanna sat, tapping her foot in the grass, which probably did not give her any sense of satisfaction, since no sound came of her efforts.

  He rounded the table and assuring that no one was near enough to hear him, he pulled out Suzanna’s chair. “I am so looking forward to our walk, Suzanna.”

  “Miss Blake,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He took her arm and tucked it against his side. As they moved forward, he whispered into her ear, “Score one for my team.”

  She stomped on his foot, pressing as hard as she could, then continued on, as if nothing had happened, smiling contentedly, twirling her parasol.

  …

  Despite her smile, Suzanna was not only angry. She was scared. She didn’t want to be strolling along with Mr. Templeton. She wanted to be free to have other gentlemen approach her. They’d spent so much time together since the house party had begun, she was certain the other men thought she was practically spoken for.

  With a forced smile plastered on her face, they walked toward the lake. At least he was keeping her in view of the others. She had no fear he would attempt to kiss her with the others watching. At least she hoped he was too much of a gentleman for that.

  “I really wanted to take you out in the rowboat. ’Tis the sort of thing a man does with his lady when they’re courting.”

  “We are not courting.”

  They stood and examined the lake. “This is truly a lovely spot for a picnic.” Suzanna took a deep breath of the fresh air. “I do so love the country.”

  “More than London?”

  “Truth be known, I detest London.” She twirled her parasol, enjoying the way she forced him to duck to keep from being hit by it.

  “You do?” he asked, placing his hand on the parasol handle to stop the spinning. “You don’t revel in the balls, parties, routs, the theater, and everything else that I’ve been led to believe a young lady of the ton adores?”

  She shook he head. “No. I am not so young, and I hope this is my last Season, anyway. It all grows rather tiresome. The gossip, the pretenses, the married couples taking lovers right under their spouses’ noses.”

  He intertwined their fingers. “I would never be unfaithful to my wife, and I too, prefer the country and could live my life away from London with no regrets. I have a wonderful country estate given to me by my grandparents.” He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head, his demeanor quite serious. “I will be more than happy to make this your last Season, Suzanna. I want to marry you.”

  She closed her eyes, his words almost causing her pain. His arrogance aside, he could truly be the man she had been waiting for. They suited in every way. How she longed for a life mostly spent in the country and a husband who did not humiliate her by parading his mistresses around London.

  She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. She could not cry in front of him. He would demand an explanation, and she was not prepared to tell him the edict she lived under.

  “I must, once again, remind you that we will not be marrying.” Her voice was dull, somber, exactly how she felt. She glanced up at the sky, thinking her mood had come from clouds drifting across the sun, blocking out the light and warmth.

  But there were no clouds in the sky.

  He must have caught her mood, because it was a quiet walk back to the tables. He held out her chair, and she sat and immediately engaged in conversation with Mr. Davies.

  After luncheon, Lady Honora suggested they make use of the rowboats. Miss St. George practically ran up to Giles to remind him of his promise to take her for a ride. He left Suzanna’s side and escorted Miss St. George to the water’s edge.

  Suzanna’s stomach muscles tightened, and a very uncomfortable feeling caused her heart to beat faster and her lungs to breathe deeper at the sight of Mr. Templeton and Miss St. George chatting amiably as they settled into the rowboat.

  This was truly ridiculous. She was not at all envious of the girl. I
n fact, she had been the one to suggest he take her out in the rowboat.

  Since she had no intention of marrying him, one day she would bear witness to him courting, and then wedding, a young lady. Perhaps someone like Miss St. George. Or even the girl herself.

  Her mood plummeted, and she considered returning to the house. Perhaps something she’d eaten at luncheon had not settled well in her stomach. That was most likely her trouble, and she should take a walk to help her digestion. To an area where she could not see the boaters.

  “Miss Blake, would you care for a ride in one of the rowboats?” Lord Campbell strode up to her.

  “Thank you, my lord, but I believe I will just take a short stroll. I feel a bit unsettled, and don’t think a boat is the place to be at this time.”

  “Oh, Lord Campbell, I would love a boat ride, if Miss Blake does not wish to do so.” Lady Barrington, another young widow recently out of mourning, hurried toward them. It was rather forward of her to ask, but Suzanna had heard the poor woman’s late husband had left her with nothing—his money spent on gambling and his mistress. She huffed. Another titled gentleman of the ton who did not take care of his responsibilities. It appeared Lady Barrington was forced to look for a replacement, since rumor had it that her own father was in no better straits due to his self-indulgence.

  What a sad and desperate life is foisted upon women.

  “Go on and enjoy yourselves.”

  Lord Campbell eyed her. “Are you sure you are well, Miss Blake?”

  She waved him off. “I will be fine.” She turned and walked away. Lady Hancock and Lady Livingston, both elderly members of the ton, sat under a tree, fanning themselves and watching the young people, just waiting for a misstep to spice up their afternoon.

  With no one paying her any mind, Suzanna headed from the group and toward a wooded area that looked cool and welcoming. Hopefully, the gossiping ladies did not notice her departure, so she would not become fodder for the next ton scandal.

  Her footsteps were muffled by the layer of damp leaves underfoot. The moist air felt good against her skin, and warm sunshine peeked through the leaves. She was free. Happy. Not concerned about Miss St. George and Mr. Templeton.

  She meandered along, smiling at the little animals that stood up and studied her, their noses twitching, then racing off to hide. A few flowers managed to grow in the deep vegetation, despite the dampness and lack of full sun. She bent over, picked one, and sniffed. No scent, but pretty nonetheless. She tucked it into her bodice and went on her way. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the little bit of time to herself. The stroll was doing wonders for her disposition.

  After about thirty minutes, she had wandered far from the group and should probably return. She hadn’t taken any turns on the path, so she reversed and headed back in the direction from which she’d come.

  She stopped at an odd sound and tilted her head to listen. Holding her breath, she heard it again, and turned in a circle. About thirty yards from her stood a very large, very hairy, very big-toothed dog. He lowered his head and growled, his hair standing on end.

  “Nice dog.” She barely got the words out past her suddenly dry lips.

  He took a few steps closer, saliva dripping from his mouth. Oh dear God, is he rabid? She backed up and smacked against a tree trunk. “Nice dog.”

  The dog stopped and sat on his haunches, continuing to stare at her. She licked her dry lips and moved a few inches forward, reaching her hand out. Perhaps, if she appeared friendly, he would relax. Instead, the dog sprang up again and growled.

  Suzanna searched the ground for any sort of a weapon, a branch, anything. Then she looked up at the tree she stood under and saw a long hanging branch. “Oh God, I haven’t climbed a tree in years.”

  The dog growled again and moved closer, his eyes like steel. Before she gave it too much thought, she grabbed the branch, swung a few times, and pulled herself up, her skirts catching on a broken limb. The dog growled louder and ran toward her. She yanked on her gown and petticoats, the sound of fabric tearing muffled by the dog’s frantic barking.

  She reached desperately for the branch above her and pulled herself up. The dog’s paws bounced against the trunk, and the whole tree shook. He barked, growled, and snapped his massive jaws as she sat above him, her breath coming in deep gulps as she watched the animal.

  Looking longingly toward the picnic area, she sighed. No one knew where she had gone.

  Isn’t this a fine mess? Now what do I do?

  Chapter Ten

  Giles’s arm muscles tightened as he rowed the small boat back to shore, anxious to be rid of Miss St. George and her constant giggles, and locate Suzanna. From the boat, he’d seen her speaking with Cam, and then Cam headed toward the lake with Lady Barrington. Within moments, Suzanna had turned and walked away from the picnic area, past Lady Hancock and Lady Livingston. He’d not seen her since and was growing concerned.

  “I would love a lemonade, my lord.” Miss St. George grabbed his hand as he helped her from the boat.

  “I am not a lord. But I will be delighted to bring you a lemonade.”

  She giggled. He sighed.

  He, on the other hand, would be delighted to find Suzanna, since he still did not see her upon his quick glance around the area. He hurried to the refreshment table, accepted a glass of lemonade from the servant, and returned to where Miss St. George had taken a seat. He held the glass out to her.

  She patted the chair alongside her. “Won’t you join me for a minute?” The chit regarded him over the rim of her glass, the look she cast him causing his stomach to cramp. She had him in her sights now, and that was not good.

  Not wanting to insult her but growing more anxious by the minute, he bowed. “I would love to, but unfortunately, I see Lord Danvers summoning me.”

  Lord Danvers was fast asleep under a large maple tree, but hopefully, with the position in which Miss St. George sat, she would be unable to see the man snoozing away.

  “Oh, of course.” She held out her hand. “Thank you so much for the lovely rowboat ride, my lord.”

  “I am not a lord,” he mumbled as he bent over her hand and turned on his heel, searching for Suzanna.

  He questioned the few people who were still on shore, even woke up Danvers. He questioned the staff, thinking perhaps she’d had a reason to return to the house, but no one had seen her leave. Giles stood, his feet spread, hands on his hips, and surveyed the area. The only place she could have gone was into the wooded area to his left.

  With no other ideas, he strode to the opening in the trees. The air was much cooler in the woods, the damp and dimness of the space casting a sinister feel over the entire area. Or perhaps that was his overactive imagination in his worry about Suzanna.

  He looked left and right, moving slow enough to check the area completely, ignoring the urge to race over the pathway, calling her name. Certainly, his voice would carry, and the last thing he wanted was for everyone to know she’d wandered off by herself. A scandal would no doubt follow.

  Foolish woman, to leave the safety of the group. He wasn’t even certain she was here, but with no one having any idea where she’d gone, the forest was the best place to search. Perhaps she’d decided on a walk and became lost. Or caught her foot in a small animal hole, and she had stumbled and hurt herself.

  Unable to hold down the panic, he called her name, keeping his voice lowered. He stood and listened. No response. He continued over the pathway. Every few yards he stopped and called again.

  Finally, he heard a slight voice. “Giles?”

  Relief flooded him, along with confusion when he jogged to where he’d heard her. “Suzanna?”

  “Up here.”

  What the devil? He looked up at the trees in the area, turning in a full circle until his eyes settled on Suzanna huddled in a tree. Her bottom was resting on the branch, her legs dangled. She looked like a child, and anything but safe. “What the bloody hell are you doing up there?”

  “Language, Mr
. Templeton.”

  He cupped his hand over his forehead to block the sun from his eyes. “Well?”

  “I was taking a lovely stroll in the woods when a very ferocious-looking dog attempted to make me his dinner.”

  “And you climbed the tree?” His voice rose in amazement.

  “My apologies, sir, but it appears I left my double-barreled flintlock pistol in my reticule, so I was unable to shoot the dog.”

  Giles shook his head. “Sarcasm is not going to get you out of that tree.” He considered her for a minute. “I don’t suppose you could climb down?”

  “I would not be sitting up here if I could.”

  “You climbed up, didn’t you?”

  “With razor sharp teeth at my heels. A woman is able to do any number of things she would not ordinarily consider when her life is flashing before her eyes.”

  “Yes. That is true, I’m sure.” He walked in circles, glancing up at her every once in a while. “I don’t believe the tree is strong enough to hold both of us. You will have to push yourself to the edge of the branch and drop into my arms.”

  “What?” Her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “My skirts are already torn from the climb. If I drop down, they will billow out.”

  “So?”

  “Mr. Templeton—”

  “I will ignore that, since you are in distress.”

  “—if I do that, you will see…”

  He grinned, loving the blush on her face. “Yes. Perhaps I will. But the only other alternative is to leave you up there.” He looked into the distance, tapping his chin. “I suppose I could toss up a blanket to cover you for sleeping. But I imagine you would miss your social life.”

  “This is not funny!”

  “Suzanna, you have two choices. Either you drop into my arms or you stay up there until you are silver-haired and wasted away to nothing. Although I suppose I could fashion a pulley of sorts to get food to you on a regular basis.”

  She swung her legs and chewed her lips. “You could close your eyes.”

  He peered up at her, his hands on his hips. “Lovely idea. Except you might land feet from where I stand and break several bones in the process.”