A Gallant Gamble (Unrivalled Regency Book 3)

by Williams, Jackie

  Another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps Charlotte had mentioned the huge jewel to Olivia. The Lathams were probably one of the few families that might be able to afford such a prize. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined Charlotte in close negotiations with young Latham. He couldn’t allow it to happen. He’d have to talk to her about it as soon as possible.

  He closed his eyes at that thought. All the avoidance he had been practicing had been for nothing. He knew that she wouldn’t let the diamond out of her sight and that meant that he would be accompanying her even more closely, probably alone if he guessed rightly that Charlotte would want to be discreet about selling the stone.

  Coalport stood in front of him again, shirt in hand this time. Geoffrey dropped the robe from his shoulders and pulled the deliciously soft linen over his head. The material slipped over his clean skin and he almost groaned in satisfaction at the feel of it. The breeches fit like a glove, hugging his thighs and the boots felt as soft as sheepskin slippers. He declined the embroidered waistcoat for something a little less decorative and waited patiently while Coalport folded the most complicated cravat that he had ever seen.

  A deep blue superfine evening coat finished the ensemble. It fit his shoulders as if it had been painted onto his body, but didn’t feel in the least constricting and at Coalport’s satisfied nod, he checked himself in the mirror. He blinked in surprise and almost looked over his own shoulder as he tried to spot himself in the reflection. The transformation was so incredible that he barely recognized himself. He looked as fine as any gentleman he had ever set eyes upon. Even his hair looked thicker and shinier than usual as it fell to his collar in dark, gleaming waves.

  Coalport gave a last brush of his hands over the jacket shoulders and stepped back again.

  “Spectacular, even though I say it myself. I’ve dressed some of the best men in the country during my years of service, but you Sir, you have eclipsed them all.” The pride in Coalport’s expression was unmistakeable. He pushed Geoffrey towards the door. “The ladies will be all a twitter within the hour and half of London will want to know you by luncheon tomorrow. Get along with you. The salon is downstairs on the right. I believe that the ladies will be down in ten minutes. It’s always a good idea to arrive before them. If Bottomley isn’t already in there, help yourself to the brandy. There will be some sherry or wine there too. The Duchess always used to take sherry before dining and I don’t suppose much has changed. Pour it like you own it. Remember that as far as everyone is concerned, you are the gentleman of the house in Master Alexander’s stead. Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise. Titles don’t mean that a person is your better, the Duke of Ormond and his friend, Lord Caithwell excepted, of course.”

  Geoffrey eyed the man in the mirror, took in a breath and straightened his shoulders. With a last grin at Coalport he strode from the room and quickly down the stairs to the salon.

  Chapter Four

  Indiscretion and Innuendoes

  Charlotte looked blankly at the grey haired man beside her. He had spoken at length but she hadn’t heard a word, so mesmerized was she at the sight of Geoffrey Talbot as he sipped his wine opposite her. Her companion cleared his throat and stared at her expectantly. She felt heat rising into her cheeks.

  “I beg your pardon, Lord Armitage. I must be tired from all the travelling. I don’t appear to be able to concentrate this evening.” The excuse was a lame one and she hoped that the man wouldn’t think her the worst kind of ninny.

  At the head of the table, Olivia broke in as she inclined her head and spoke softly to Lord Armitage.

  “It’s my fault entirely. I talked my Charlotte’s ears off last night before we slept and while I dozed in the carriage today, I know that this young lady was awake and seeing to my comfort. Such a kind girl. I felt the wrap slip from my knees several times but it was only seconds before she tucked me in again. We appear to be having inclement weather for this time of year.”

  Lord Armitage nodded, not the least bit offended by Charlotte’s apparent lapse.

  “Spring is turning out to be a long one. Devil only knows what’s happening at my estate. I can see why Lord Caithwell has remained at home to supervise his lambing. Can’t imagine how far behind the crops might be...don’t even want to think of it actually. Constant worry what with the memories of the shortages only a few years ago. I was reminding my wife only the other day...”

  Charlotte lost track of his conversation again as she glanced back at Geoffrey only to spot him tearing his gaze away from her and nodding slowly in response to something Lady Latham had said to him. Her unruly heart drummed out an uneven beat and her hand trembled as she stabbed a morsel of duck with her fork.

  She had walked into the salon only an hour before and had been struck dumb at the sight of the god like figure in front of her. She knew that it was Geoffrey of course, but the transformation in him was so alarming that she found she could barely open her mouth to speak. The sight of him dressed in the finest garments had been so surprising that she had felt her knees actually quake beneath the layers of her silk skirts. While she already knew that Geoffrey had more than enough enviable qualities, the old adage that clothes didn’t maketh the man was now firmly swept out of the window. They clearly made this man.

  He had taken her hand in his and she had noticed his gleaming nails as he raised her fingers to his lips. The heat of his breath had brushed over the fine fabric of her gloves and the smoulder in his steady silver gaze had burned her as if she stood at the centre of a flaming pyre. It was fortunate that the Duchess had appeared only seconds later, for Charlotte was sure that she was about to turn into a molten puddle right in front of him.

  His eyes remained trained on her deep décolletage for just a moment too long and she felt a flush of apprehension bloom in her cheeks as his eyes flicked back to hers. She had taken Olivia’s advice on her choice of dress for the evening, though she had felt far too exposed by the cut of the gown. In her dressing-room she had tried to cover some of her ample charms with a fine lace shawl, but the Duchess had dismissed the material instantly, insisting that it drew even more attention to the exposed area rather than concealing it. Charlotte had seen a slight clenching of Geoffrey’s jaw before the arrival of more guests had interrupted any remark or observance he might have made about her gown. He had remained nearly silent, responding with stiff politeness to introductions and only answering direct questions ever since.

  Now he picked up his wineglass and sipped the garnet coloured liquid as he inclined his head towards the dazzlingly beautiful Lady Armitage on his left while looking through hooded eyes at Lord Hubert Carruthers, who attracted Charlotte’s attention from her right. Geoffrey’s silver eyes darkened to iron grey as the young Lord leaned even further to his left and dropped his gaze downwards.

  Lady Armitage gasped as the stem of Geoffrey’s glass suddenly snapped between his fingertips and the last of the red wine splashed across the table, narrowly avoiding marring the dove grey gown of Lady Latham. Embarrassment suffused his features as he pushed his chair back, grabbed up his napkin and began sponging the tablecloth while the Duchess called for Bottomley to replace Geoffrey’s glass. Furious with himself he glanced towards Charlotte, dreading her censure but her eyes only bid him to stop fussing with the linen. He immediately dropped his napkin and sat back down.

  Bottomley covered the soiled cloth, removed the broken receptacle, and replaced it with another full glass of wine almost before the guests at the lower end of the table had realized that anything was amiss. Geoffrey lowered his head and cursed his own clumsiness, but Olivia came to his rescue with a bright and unconcerned voice.

  “I admire a man with a firm grip. You are clearly a skilled equestrian, Mr. Talbot. Alexander was only telling me last week that he relies on your superior abilities with the more troublesome animals. I understand that Prince Louis has asked for your advice.”

  Geoffrey raised a surprised eyebrow. He had no idea who Prince Louis was,
but as he glanced around the table, it appeared that no one else did either. He was about to enquire of Olivia who this Prince might be when Charlotte broke in to stop him.

  “Olivia, please. I told you that in confidence. The Prince would be unhappy if it were known that his own skills could be called into question.”

  Olivia waved a gloved hand.

  “Piffle and nonsense. We are all friends here. I only allude to Mr. Talbot’s exceptional skills in such matters and the fact that royalty must take him seriously if they have bothered to enquire about his skills.”

  Geoffrey caught on belatedly to what the women were doing and although he appreciated their help in making him seem far more worthy than he actually was, he also began to see pitfalls opening all around him as the two ladies began to spin their tale. While he didn’t particularly want anyone to know that he was merely a lowly stable master in the employ of the Duke of Ormond, he didn’t want to deceive anyone either.

  “I thank you for your confidence in my abilities, but I am not sure that any Prince has come to call at Ormond recently. The breeding programme is only just beginning to show results though two mares are in foal at the moment.”

  Lord Armitage nodded wisely.

  “Good to know that someone takes our horseflesh seriously. Perhaps this Prince came to you incognito. Many of the French aristocracy are still nervous of revealing their ancestry. Unsurprising when you consider the consequences of such an admission in their own country. I suspect that he came to you under an assumed name, but that would be irrelevant to someone such as our dear Olivia here, who knows all the best people on the continent as well as at home.” He bowed to the smiling Duchess before continuing. “You’ll have to come and look at my own stables and cast your eye over a few of my stock. We may be able to come to an arrangement if you see anything that you feel worth a bit of a gamble.”

  Lord Latham brushed some crumbs of pastry from his intricately folded cravat as he leaned forwards with interest.

  “And mine too, of course. I only keep three matched pairs plus my own and my son’s mounts in London, but if you would care for a visit to view my stables just say the word. I’m sure that Ormond would be keen to increase his stock and I may be able to accommodate him.”

  Geoffrey inclined his head, giving neither man a positive or negative response. He didn’t like being manipulated by the two women, but their tactics had caused an excellent diversion from his lack of grace and a possible opening into the two wealthy households. Even though he was still in two minds about the close connection to the Latham family after everything that had transpired with Charlotte and Giles, he was willing to bide his time before dismissing any valuable information. He raised his glass marginally as Olivia looked at him and smiled serenely.

  Dessert was served and conversation continued about the table but he had forgotten that at formal parties the ladies left the room while the gentlemen drank port and smoked cigars. Life at Ormond never followed such strict rules of etiquette. For one thing none of them smoked, secondly it would have meant that Alexander’s wife, Lily, spent many of the evening hours alone, something that Alexander would never have allowed. And thirdly, Alexander maintained that there was nothing he had to say that his wife couldn’t listen to, if it had been possible for her to do that, of course. As Lily was totally deaf, this last objection hardly counted, but Alexander insisted that they would spend the evening hours together anyway.

  Geoffrey vowed to take only one glass of port while the men drank. He couldn’t allow alcohol to cloud his judgement or concentration while alone in this company. The swish of silk dresses faded as Olivia led the ladies from the dining room only a few moments later, and Bottomley handed Geoffrey the bottle of port. Slightly startled at the thought of now being the host at the table, he looked up, but Bottomley’s ferocious glare dared him to refuse the honour. He poured a small glass for himself and then handed the bottle along the table to Lord Latham.

  “So horsemanship is your thing then, Talbot?” Lord Latham asked as he filled his own glass and passed the bottle to Lord Armitage who poured a generous measure before giving the bottle to a slightly tipsy Hubert Carruthers.

  Geoffrey nodded slowly.

  “Ormond has been kind enough to engage my services for several years. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond the old Duke’s control, the breeding stock had been much depleted while Alexander was away at war, but there is now a strong improvement. Our latest addition is less than a year old but shows fine form already. I believe that Lady Caithwell will do very well from the yearling birthed by her own mare and sired by Lightning, a fine stallion that I have brought with me to London.”

  Lord Carruthers he raised his eyebrows as he sipped his port.

  “Oh ho! Do you indeed? We’ll have to take a look at this Lightning of yours. He or his progeny might make a good prospect.” He glanced down the table towards Lord Torrington. “Are you entering Firebrand into Lord Davenport’s race this year? I hear that he’s upped the winning purse to a thousand guineas.”

  Lord Torrington eyed his friend and let out a soft belch before he answered.

  “I’ve not decided whether to go for it. Lord Tilbury lost his best horse last year. Damned thing landed badly at the fifth fence and broke a leg. Had to be shot on the course.” He turned to look directly at Geoffrey as he explained further. “The race is notoriously hard going. Last year’s course was a complete nightmare. I thought I was going to be unseated over two of the fences and our friend Kingsmill suspects that Davenport has added some new and more challenging obstacles this year. He’s not racing that prize mare of his for fear of an injury.” He narrowed his eyes at Geoffrey as if seeking to divine his mind. “Will you have anything entered? There’s still plenty of time to put your name on the register of entries.”

  Geoffrey shook his head as a sudden shudder raced up his spine. He glanced between Torrington and Carruthers, seeing some kind of communication going on between them, but was unsure as to exactly what it was. He kept his words calm and guarded.

  “I’m here to escort the Duchess and Lady Charlotte, nothing more, but I will keep an eye on any...any opportunities and keep you informed of my decision.”

  Mr. Michaels, who had until that moment remained virtually silent throughout dinner, suddenly snorted with laughter as he poured his own glass of port.

  “Yes, well, opportunities arise all the time. I suspect there will be a few willing to wager a pretty penny on this season’s prospects.” He emphasised his last word as he looked significantly at the other men. “What say you, Torrington? Fancy ten pounds on her falling at the first fence?” He smiled widely as he raised his glass towards Lord Torrington.

  Geoffrey narrowed his eyes and glanced around the table again. Something didn’t feel quite right. Lord Latham’s cheeks were stained red with discomfiture and he twirled his glass in his hand as Torrington tittered into his glass.

  Hubert Carruthers picked up his glass. It wobbled precariously in his drunken fingers and the ruby liquid threatened to spill from its lip as he spoke up.

  “I wouldn’t mind adding a certain young filly to White’s book. She looks as though she’ll be a good mount. Plenty of spirit and with a beautiful form. She might be more of a challenge that you think. I’ll wager ten pounds against you both.”

  Geoffrey frowned as the man grinned along the table at his sniggering friend. The conversation was slipping even further from his grasp until it suddenly occurred to him that they were no longer talking of horses but of women, or rather, just one woman. He caught sight of Mr. Michaels’ sly smile as the man raised his glass again and the pain of realization shot through him. The men were insinuating that Charlotte could be compromised, ruined even, and it might possibly be one of them attempting the act. They were wagering on her possible downfall while attempting to ensure that the destruction of her virtue actually happened.

  Silence fell as rage like he had never known before pounded in his veins. He clenched
his teeth in an attempt to hold it back. This wasn’t his house and he wasn’t master of it. These people, however ill-mannered, were Olivia’s friends; not that he thought she would approve of this kind of conversation at all, but he couldn’t just leap across the table and tear the men’s hearts out through their throats, as much as he wanted to. His hand shook and he fisted it tightly beneath the table just as Lord Armitage suddenly cleared his throat.

  “Gentlemen, didn’t you hear the Duchess. Mr. Talbot here is surely a serious contender for the prize. Joke if you may, but I don’t think I will be staking anything against him. He looks more than capable of seeing off any of you youngsters, besides, you shouldn’t gamble on such things. If any of you ever find the perfect mare, you wouldn’t want anyone wagering against you and you certainly don’t want to do anything to upset the creature either. A filly can be a very temperamental thing, but when you have broken her in and trained her up, she’ll serve you for life...I should know and so should Latham here. We have more experience than all of the rest of you put together.” He looked significantly at the three men lower down the table.

  Although Lord Armitage was clearly attempting to diffuse the tension that had crept into the atmosphere around the table, Geoffrey almost hated the man even more. He felt the steam of fury burning his nostrils. Fillies, mares, mounting, riding, breaking them in, and training them up! Nausea swept over him at their crass innuendoes and he pitied these men’s wives and lovers. The thought of Charlotte being in the same room with any of this filth was more than enough, but knowing that they might try to dance with her, or attempt to bed her, or even marry her just to ‘break her in and train her up’ had his blood burning in his veins. He breathed in and out slowly, silently counting to one hundred in his efforts to stop his dinner reappearing on the table in front of him or his fists flying into the faces of the men around the table. He only hoped that no one would say another word on the subject or he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.