“Neither can I,” Madelaine muttered. The last fight she’d had with her mother was ever present in her mind. Fresh regret pierced her heart and made her rub at her chest as they walked toward the smell of gooey rolls.
“THIS TRIP HAS BEEN A bloody waste,” Grey growled as they made their way out of Marie Vallendri’s townhome and into the bright sunshine of Golden Square. “Who am I going to shock my father with at dinner tonight since Miss Vallendri already has a lover?”
“How about that chit right there.” Gravenhurst pointed toward a band of gypsies who’d set up a shooting booth.
“I said I wanted to shock my father, not give him a death fit.”
Gravenhurst chuckled at Grey’s side. “Look closer. See the tall, pretty brunette? From my experience women with curly hair have rousing personalities to match, and the chit may be dressed as a proper lady, but she wouldn’t be in the art district if she was. She’s ripe for adventure. I say go pluck her.”
“I like your thinking.” Grey studied the woman. “She’s pretty enough but see how her mouth is puckered in disapproval. She’s not here of her choosing. Likely she’d faint if I propositioned her.”
“You may be right. Perhaps you should select a new mistress from Madame Landry’s women.”
“I think not,” Grey said, distracted by the sudden shouting from the group of gypsies. As he moved across the square and closer to the group he could hear wagers being bantered back and forth between the men and women alike. The excited buzz of the crowd was like a drug. He stopped by a sleek-haired gypsy with keen black eyes who struggled to take the money shoved at him while scribbling wagers in a little book.
“What’s the wager?”
The gypsy acknowledged Grey with an upward flick of his eyebrows and a sardonic smile. Grey instantly liked him. “The lady claims she can split the arrow lodged in the target over there.” The man pointed to a target so far away Grey had to squint to see it.
“Impossible. Unless the lady is built like a man. Which lady?” He glanced at the women gathered around the group. A few of them were thick in arm and might be able to do it if they’d been shooting all their lives.
“There. That fair ghel with the sun on her head.”
“The fair what with what on her head?” Grey reached into his coat and brought out a bag of coin.
“Come, I’ll show you.” The gypsy eyed Grey’s coin and then wound through the throng of people. “You going to wager?”
Was he ever. No need to go showing his excitement and get taken advantage of. “Yes, but I’ll see the lady before I decide for or against.”
“And your friend?”
Gravenhurst shook his head. “I’ll keep my funds in my pocket where they belong.”
Leave it to Gravenhurst to try to spoil the fun. Nothing could spoil this novelty though. Grey shrugged. “Sorry―?”
“Romany.” The gypsy stuck out his hand. Grey shook the man’s hand with enthusiasm. His wasted trip was just about to become profitable and entertaining. Toward the inner circle the man stopped behind a woman whose waves of flaxen hair tumbled invitingly down her back and marked her as the woman with the sun on her head. He chortled at the description. What a preposterous idea to imagine the petite creature standing in front of him had the strength to wield the bow and shoot the arrow true enough to split the one already lodged in the target.
She had a right lovely round backside, he’d give her that, but he’d not give her his confidence. He jingled the bag of money with a grin and held it toward Romany who’d begun taking bets again from the people around him. “I’ll put the whole lot on the lady’s failure.”
With a gasp, the woman whirled around and speared him with a dark look as well as nearly stabbing him with her arrow. “You’re mistaken to wager against me, sir.”
There was something invitingly erotic about the pale-skinned, bronze-eyed beauty wrapped in delicate, lilac silk. She looked dainty and helpless yet she wielded a weapon that could kill and boasted of skills no proper lady would dream of admitting. His lust awoke in a heartbeat. This was the woman he needed to prickle his father and push him toward agreeing to secure a commission. “I’ll be happy if you prove me wrong, yet your stature does make me question your abilities, Lady…?”
“Miss Prattle,” she responded with a conspiratorial look at the curly-headed brunette.
“What an unusual name.” He winked to prod her and was rewarded when her eyes rounded.
“Yes, well, Lord…?”
“Drivel.” He could barely contain his amusement.
She burst out laughing, the merry sound making him smile. “Your laugh is lovely,” he said. Instantly, she sobered, eyed him warily and turned her attention downward on her arrow. She was right to be guarded. His blood hummed in his ears with his desire. Forget his parent’s boring dinner. By tonight he’d have this chit in his bed. The contradiction she presented was irresistible. “I’ll put my money on you and give you all my winnings to make up for offending you, but if you lose, you must accompany me to my townhouse.”
“She’ll not!” her friend exclaimed before the lady herself could reply. When the lady gave her friend a cool look, Grey had to work not to show his satisfaction. She was just as interested in him as he was in her. Today was turning out to be splendid, indeed.
“I’ll take your offer.”
“Excellent.” He ignored her friend’s outraged huff and Gravenhurst’s indiscreet snickering into his hands. “There’s much I want to show you.” Grey imagined her excited expression when she saw his collection of archery sets. Her mouth dropped open. By God, the chit thought he was referring to something sexual. Her expression of barely contained outrage was priceless and intrigued him all the more.
“What precisely do you think to show me? Are you a collector of art?”
Her tone was brittle as glass. The challenge of making her pliable in his hands was going to be quite enjoyable. For now, it might do her good to wonder what he was about. “I only have one piece of art that’s worth your seeing.”
At that, Gravenhurst started guffawing but stopped promptly when the brunette lady glared him into ashes. The woman’s obvious protective instinct over her friend was admirable, even if he didn’t like her interference.
“I won’t be seeing your art, but I will take your money,” the blond-haired chit replied before turning away, raising her arrow and saying in a loud, confident voice, “I’m ready.”
Romany and his cronies immediately called for last wagers, collected the money, and then a hush fell over the crowd.
Grey moved so he could see the woman’s face. He was rewarded for his effort. An adorable crease appeared on her forehead as she pulled the bow back with a creak. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip in concentration, and he could see her doing all the same small calculations he did every time he practiced his archery. She tested the tautness of her bow, the weight of her arrow, and the direction of the wind. Her knowledge impressed him. Her weight subtly shifted, but her skirt swished around her ankles and alerted him to her change in stance.
Fascination stilled him. He might lose, but the loss of his money didn’t worry him. Her fingers lifted off the bow and the arrow buzzed through the air true and straight. He’d underestimated her. Her arrow sliced down the middle of the other arrow and a collective gasp, followed by cheers and groans filled the air. He wanted to cheer too, but jaded lords didn’t cheer.
She whooped, her arms flying above her head in victory and her feet leaving the ground with her enthusiasm. He grinned as he watched her. She had real spirit. He no longer gave a damn about needling his father. He wanted to get to know this chit for her sake alone.
She faced him with a grin that lit her whole face. The sight was breathtaking. “I thank you kindly for your money,” she said. He grabbed her arm before she disappeared into the swell of people wanting to congratulate her and those who wanted a chance to earn their money back.
“I’d still love for you to come to m
y town home.”
“To see your one piece of art?” She tilted her head challengingly to the side.
“No. To see my archery collection.”
“Oh!” The smile on her face filled her eyes and made them shine like polished bronze.
“By God, you’re lovely.” He’d not been so taken with a woman’s beauty since he’d been old enough to understand women used their appearance to scheme and manipulate.
Her light eyebrows tilted into two twin arches as she gently pulled her arm from his grasp. “Thank you.”
“Miss Prattle,” her friend said through clenched teeth. “Our hour is over.
“Tell me your name,” Grey insisted as his intriguing, blonde beauty started backing away from him. He didn’t want her to go. Not yet.
“You already know it.”
“Your real name,” he amended, advancing toward her so she couldn’t simply vanish into the thickening crowd. “I could call on you. Take you to the theatre. Show you things you’ve probably only imagined.”
A lovely pink blush stained her cheeks. “I’ve a great imagination.”
“Then let’s explore it together.” He didn’t give a damn how forward he sounded.
“Enough!” her annoying companion said. “We must go now. It’s been two hours.”
“Two hours!” his beauty gasped. “Dear me. I really must go, but thank you for the offer.”
He sidestepped in front of her and looked down into her upturned face. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, desperate to ensure he would see her again. Her indecisiveness showed as she bit on her lip. “I won’t let you leave unless you agree.”
“That’s coercion.”
“Whatever it takes.” He loved the word “whatever”. It left so many intriguing possibilities open to explore.
“Please remember that tomorrow.” She sidestepped around him.
A sense of satisfaction filled him. “I’ll see you at the fountain at ten.”
Already a few steps away, she looked over her shoulder. A frown marred her beautiful face. “Goodbye, Lord Drivel.”
He loved that she was willing to play the game. “Fair well, Miss Prattle.”
He watched her depart, her hips rocking enticingly with each step, until he could see her no more. If he was any other sort of man, he would have followed her all the way to her carriage just for a few more minutes in her company. Gravenhurst nudged him in the side. “Do you really think that piece will meet you here?”
“Of course I do. I’d not have let her leave, otherwise.”
Dancing With A Devil Page 33
