A Gallant Gamble (Unrivalled Regency Book 3)

by Williams, Jackie

  Geoffrey looked down at her dainty fingers as she touched his coat collar and pressed the material to his chest. He closed his eyes briefly and he wished beyond words that there was no fabric between them. His heated flesh burned with passion, but then he cursed his unruly heart. He was behaving no better than the men in the salon, lusting after her as if she were no more than a bitch in heat.

  He stepped back abruptly, hating himself for being so weak. He could not have her, would not attempt to. He gave her a quick bow.

  “Thank you for your kind words, though I am feeling the waste of money already. The clothes will all have to be sold and the money returned to Alexander when I go home. I won’t wear them again when I return to Ormond and I won’t be beholden to anyone, least of all Alexander, especially as he must have ordered them all long before he even asked me to accompany you and his mother to town. I am still making up my mind as to whether I feel used or flattered.”

  A small crease marred Charlotte’s brow.

  “Don’t blame him, Geoff. He’s done all of this to make you feel comfortable while you are escorting his mother and myself, nothing more. You would have felt awkward wearing your own clothes here in London, however much they suit your lifestyle at Ormond.”

  He knew that she downplayed the fact that his own clothes were shabby at best and fit only for rags at worst, but it was all just another nail through his heart as she pointed out the differences in their stations in life. He gave her a quick bow.

  “I must return to the guests. Sleep well, Lady Charlotte, I will see you at breakfast.” He turned away from her and refused to look back as he heard her run up the stairs behind him.

  Chapter Five

  Pudding Forks and Apologies

  Never had seven days felt so long.

  His ears positively burned with the drivel he had been forced to listen to each evening and he was sure that his brain was turning to mush from all the ridiculous conversations and supposedly witty remarks he had heard. He had no idea why it was such a titillating piece of gossip that Lord Whetstone had left Lady Wainwright’s musical half an hour early, or that Pricilla Heatherington had danced twice with Lord Aberton at Lady Tremaine’s ball.

  He couldn’t understand why people went to the theatre and then talked to one another so loudly between the boxes that it was impossible to know what happened during the performance on stage; and why an invitation from Lady Ashby should have caused such a twittering throughout the house, he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

  His feet ached from standing around at all the afternoon tea parties and the dancing required of him at the nightly balls. His brow furrowed as he curled his aching toes inside his shoes. Some of the matrons were not as light on their feet as they should be. He swore blind that Olivia had laughed after seeing him wince repeatedly as the very plump Lady Haskins danced on his toes more than she did on the ballroom floor. He’d be speaking to Alexander about that one. Dancing was something he had sworn he would not do.

  His neck itched uncomfortably from being shaved twice a day and he had lost count of the number of freshly starched and pressed cravats Coalport had tied on him. It was no wonder that the household employed so many staff. It seemed that he had only put on his morning attire before he had to change to go riding, and then change again to go to tea, and then again for dinner. He needed at least two maids all to himself what with washing caused by the number of changes of clothes he was expected to make each and every day.

  If being a gentleman meant living the rest of his life like he had for the past week, then he was glad that he was a lowly groomsman instead.

  His only respite from the daily hustle and bustle had been when accompanying Charlotte in her so far, unsuccessful attempt to find a buyer for her diamond. Under the pretext of riding in the park, they had taken several detours into various parts of the city in their endeavours to sell the magnificent stone.

  The jewel had not sold. Each man who took his eyeglass to the sparkling bauble, sighed or gasped in wonder or surprise at the beauty of the rare stone before handing it back with sorrowful shakes of their heads and laments that they would be only too happy to take it off her hands if they could but afford it.

  Charlotte’s hopeful expression had dipped lower every day as one after another of the jewellers tipped it back into the velvet pouch in which she carried it. Today had been even worse as the jeweller they had sought out had already been told of the fabulous diamond being offered for sale. He refused to even look at the stone, stating that a thing of such rarity and beauty would haunt his dreams if her even caught sight of it. They rode home slowly, walking the horses through the park on the way back to the Albany.

  “What was the point of my father leaving me such a stone if I can’t realize its value?” She asked no one in particular as they passed through the park.

  Geoffrey remained silent. He had privately thought the exact same thing on their previous missions into the jewellery quarter. It occurred to him that the word ‘priceless’ meant exactly that. The stone was so valuable that it had no price. As no one had enough money to buy the thing, its value had become limited by its own splendour.

  He frowned thoughtfully as Charlotte spoke again.

  “It’s not even as though I can wear the damned thing. It’s as big as a doorknob!”

  Geoffrey let out a laugh. The diamond was large, but not that large. Her exaggeration was due to frustration.

  “You should have it made into one then. At least it would have a use.”

  Charlotte laughed with him at last.

  “Can you imagine if I used it as the bell-pull at Caithwell? I wonder how many people would guess at its value as they gave it a yank.”

  Geoffrey shook his head.

  “I daresay that they wouldn’t give it a second glance. I mean, it’s pretty but no more so than the ruby glass that hangs from the chandeliers. I don’t suppose anyone would even notice it.”

  Charlotte glanced over at him and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

  “You are right. It’s so big that no one would ever think it real. Still, it is a pity that I cannot seem to sell it. It would have freed up a huge amount of capital for the stables, but it appears I will have to find something else with which to raise the cash, though I am at a loss to think of what.”

  Geoffrey’s frown deepened.

  “Do you really need the money? It’s not as though we would leave you out of any profits when they arise. You do more than enough to earn your share.”

  Charlotte sighed deeply.

  “It’s the principle of the thing. I want to do something of my own. Living off my guardian doesn’t feel right to me. I know that Giles would give me anything if it was within his power to do it, but he has his own family and worries now. He shouldn’t have to even consider me. My own family should have made better provision instead of squandering their wealth away.” Her cheeks flushed suddenly and Geoffrey was about to ask what she meant when Charlotte suddenly flicked her reins and sent her mount trotting ahead of him. He gave Lightning a light squeeze with his heels and was glad that the stallion followed her immediately, but even though he caught up to her within only a few strides, she didn’t appear to want to discuss the matter any further. She kept her eyes on the path and remained silent as she rode, her chin held high. She kept her thoughts to herself and when they arrived back at the Albany she was whisked away by Olivia to prepare for that evening’s entertainment.

  Geoffrey followed her up the stairs and made his way to his own room where Coalport greeted him jovially and prepared for yet another change of clothes.

  The Latham’s ball was upon them and he vowed that nothing on the earth would have persuaded him to go if he hadn’t known that the odious Charles Latham was going to be attending his mother’s gathering. There was no way that he was about to leave Charlotte unattended while that oaf was about and so his nightly bathing and dressing rituals had begun again.

  He groaned and shook his head as Coalport pulled
out yet another peacock coloured waistcoat. He blinked at the outrageously embroidered garment that he was apparently to wear at the Latham’s ball that evening.

  “You have to be joking. I am not wearing that thing in public anywhere. I’m no dandy and don’t want to look like one. I’ll wear the plain buff one again.”

  Coalport pursed his lips and pressed them together. It had become a nightly challenge to kit Geoffrey out in something more daring, a challenge that Geoffrey wasn’t about to cave in on or Coalport about to give up.

  His valet shook the shimmering cloth under his nose.

  “But this is the Latham’s ball. It’s rumoured that the Prince Regent will be attending. You cannot possibly be presented wearing the plain buff.”

  Geoffrey frowned but wasn’t anywhere near ready to give way. He flicked his hand in dismissal of the garment as he spoke.

  “Why not? I’m sure that the Prince couldn’t give a stuff what I might wear, not that I would ever be presented anyway. I am no one and no one is interested in me, least of all the Prince. To tell the truth, I am not much interested in him either. The rumours that surround him are not at all savoury. I understand that he keeps his wife and his mistresses all on the same premises just for his own convenience. He sounds hardly the sort of man I would like to meet.”

  Coalport gave a shocked gasp as he rummaged through the vast wardrobe for an alternative waistcoat.

  “Good heavens! You can be a tad blunt on occasions, Mr. Talbot. I’m sure that I don’t need to advise you not to bring up any conversations like that when at the ball this evening.” The man reappeared with a pale cream coloured offering, accentuated with tiny golden threads woven about the buttonholes.

  Geoffrey narrowed his eyes as he considered the garment. It was more decorative than he personally favoured, but the fabric appeared subtle enough for him to overlook his taste for the less flamboyant. Seeing victory within his grasp, Coalport immediately helped Geoffrey into the waistcoat before turning him towards the mirror.

  Geoffrey frowned as he stood there and huffed out a breath. The waistcoat was perfect, just as every other item of clothing had been throughout the whole week. Annoyed with himself for enjoying the beautiful clothes, he grabbed up his evening coat and stalked from the room as he spoke over his shoulder.

  “Don’t wait up for me tonight, Coalport. I doubt that we will return early and you’ve been up earlier and later than me all week. I’ll take care of myself this evening.”

  Coalport smiled widely as he waved Geoffrey off.

  “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your consideration. Don’t forget to hang your clothes when you return. I don’t want to find them all flung over the floor tomorrow morning.”

  Geoffrey laughed as Coalport shooed him out of the door. He and the valet had become friends over the last few days. It felt good to be able to talk to the man without any pretence of grandeur.

  “Good grief! Anyone would think I was some sort of commoner the way you go on.” He laughed again as he heard Coalport’s own friendly chortle.

  As usual, he arrived in the drawing room before the ladies. Bottomley was already pouring him a brandy but he had yet to sip it when Charlotte arrived looking more breathtaking than ever before. Her oyster pink gown shimmered over her body, accentuating her loveliness while driving nails into Geoffrey’s heart all over again.

  He bowed over her gloved hand and she accepted his salutation with a smile that tore at his very being. His gaze shifted to her ivory throat and he suddenly noticed her pulse beating hard under her delicate skin. He breathed as slowly as his body allowed while he fought the enticement to press his lips to that very point and tasting the heat of her blood. God help him, it was more than enticement! He clenched his jaws together and resisted the temptation to haul her into his arms, throw her over his shoulder and cart her off to the nearest bedroom. He wouldn’t let her up from the bed until he had stripped them both naked and loved over and over until she cried out his name and swore that she was his forever more.

  “You look lovely again, Charlotte,” he managed to stammer before he let her hand go and passed her a glass of sherry.

  “As do you, Geoff.” She sipped the sweet wine and hid behind her glass as she looked Geoffrey up and down. It was becoming harder to not notice him each day. His new wardrobe set off his splendid figure to perfection and she wondered if he could tell the effect he was having on her. Her blood almost sang as it flew around her body, a slight flush rising into her cheeks as she breathed in the scent of clean man.

  It was probably just as well that the door opened behind her and Olivia walked slowly into the room with her hand pressed against her temple. Charlotte gasped at the paleness of the woman’s skin and rushed towards her.

  “Olivia, is something wrong?”

  The older lady staggered and Geoffrey leapt forwards, catching her gently and helping her into a chair.

  “Madam, I will call a doctor immediately.” He made for the door but the Duchess called him back.

  “No, no, it’s just the megrims. I will be better in a moment, but I doubt I will be able to remain long at the ball tonight. I will come with you as Charlotte’s chaperone, of course but then will have to leave her under your care, Geoffrey. There will be many ladies there qualified to act on my behalf. I will ask one of them to sit with you. I know that I can rely on you to see that she comes to no harm during the ride home.”

  Charlotte shook her head.

  “No, Olivia. I refuse to leave you if you are unwell. I don’t want to go to the ball anyway. We have attended enough this week to last me a lifetime. I will stay here with you and make sure that you are well this evening.”

  Geoffrey nearly sagged in relief as he thought of the far more pleasant prospect of a quiet evening at home. A game of cards, or a good book from Alexander’s well stocked library would suit him perfectly, but before he could agree with Charlotte and insist on remaining at home, Olivia waved her handkerchief and shook her head.

  “Absolutely not. I insist on you going. I have it on excellent authority that the Prince Regent is going to make an appearance. You must be there. I refuse to let you pass up this chance of royal acknowledgement. As Dowager Duchess I am already known to the Prince and am able to introduce you on behalf of Alexander. I will stay for the presentation and then ask young Callum to bring me home. He can return with the carriage for the pair of you later in the evening.” She held up her hand as Charlotte looked about to protest. “I won’t hear another word on the subject. Now if you could just pour me a small sherry, Geoffrey, I am sure that I will make a temporary recovery soon enough.”

  Geoffrey’s heart sank as he poured a goodly measure of the fortified wine into a crystal glass and handed it to the wincing woman.

  “If you are sure, but if we have to go, I think that we should all leave together. It wouldn’t look right for me to be left alone with Lady Charlotte.” He forbore mentioning that it would also mean that they could leave another of the dreadful routs a few hours early.

  Olivia shook her head and then moaned as the apparent pain lanced her temple.

  “No, I forbid you to leave until after the Prince dances with Charlotte, a thing he is sure to do as he loves nothing better than a stunningly beautiful woman. He won’t be able to resist her charms and her chances of an even better match will be increased exponentially. All the most eligible bachelors will be there. We cannot let this opportunity pass.”

  Geoffrey felt a headache of his own coming on until Charlotte spoke with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

  “Olivia, as much as you may feel that finding a husband for me is the best future I can hope for, I am disinclined to agree with you. I do not want to marry. I certainly do not want to marry any of the less than adequate fools who pass for gentlemen, that I have met so far this week. None would suit me at all so it hardly matters if I dance with the Prince or not. I agree with Geoffrey that we should all leave together.”

  Geoffrey didn’t know if
Charlotte had made him feel any better with her choice of words, but at least he was sure that she was not attracted to any other man in particular. He only hoped that she remained of the opinion that she could manage her life on her own, for though he knew that he could not have her, he didn’t think he could bear to see her become the wife of another either.

  The very thought of her with another man made his knees turn weak. It had been bad enough watching her being danced off her feet by all and sundry this last week. Fortunately she hadn’t been granted leave to waltz yet. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to cope when she was. He’d had no idea that the dance was so intimate. He’d yet to try it himself but it appeared to be easy enough. One, two three and sweep the lady around, one hand tightly on her waist and the other gripping her fingers. Of the one or two couples he saw dancing it well, he had noticed that the gentleman appeared to guide with his thighs too, pressing them into his partners skirts as they whirled about the room.

  Heat suffused the whole of his body. No man was going to dance with her like that unless it was himself. He’d kill any who tried. Charlotte suddenly looked up at him and for a moment he wasn’t sure why until he heard the growl that seemed to emanate from his own throat. He gave a belated cough and topped up her sherry to cover his indiscretion.

  The Latham’s dinner had been a lively affair. Charlotte had been placed near the head of the table due to her association with the Duchess. Geoffrey sat just a few seats down on the opposite side of the table. His raven haired dinner companion had monopolised his conversation and Charlotte had barely exchanged a glance with him.

  She rolled her eyes as the man at her side placed his hand just above her knee for what felt like the fiftieth time. Apart from worrying over grease marks on her gown, she was completely fed up with his less than gentlemanly antics. She slipped her dessert fork into her right hand and sparkled up at Lord Latham at the head of the table as she stabbed the man at her side hard in his left thigh.