Gambling on a Gentleman: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love)

by Brenna Jacobs

  Geoffrey stopped in front of his closet, letting her words sink. “You’re right, Clarissa. I haven’t been fair to you.” His eyes drifted over the neat rows of clothes. Many of his favorites had been chosen or given to him by Clarissa. “Things happened very quickly with Al—the woman in the picture. I wasn’t searching for someone to replace you, but I suppose I also wasn’t as committed to you as I let you think I was, and I apologize for that. I feel terribly about hurting you.”

  Clarissa scoffed. “Let’s be clear about one thing. You’ve embarrassed me, but I’m not hurt. You haven’t made me cry, Geoffrey. If anyone is going to be hurt by this, it’s you, because I can guarantee you Daddy won’t be approving any loans for your little museum. Nor will any other bank, if he has anything to do with it.”

  “Clarissa—”

  The phone went dead.

  Geoffrey sank into the wingback chair in his walk-in closet and put his head in his hands. He didn’t know what he felt the worst about: not being honest with Clarissa about how his feelings for her had changed, or that his mistake had cost them the funding they needed for the museum. The funding that would not only pay for the upgraded security and home improvements Binchley Hall needed, along with refinancing the many loans they had on the property, but it would also pay Alice’s salary until they were making a profit.

  No funding meant no museum, no Grey estate, and no Alice.

  Geoffrey barely had time to let that realization sink in, pulling him into a very gray place, before Ardis found him in his closet.

  “Geoff?”

  He took his head from his hands and looked at her. “Yes?”

  “Your mother is calling.” She held his cell phone to him with one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

  He took the tea first and smiled gratefully, although he wished she’d brought something stronger. He took one sip, then took his cell from her.

  “Hello, Mother,” he said with a sigh. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “This is no time to be joking, Geoffrey. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “This may surprise you, but yes, I’ve got a pretty good idea of how badly I’ve mucked things up.” He took a drink of his hot tea, letting it burn his tongue and his throat. “Clarissa has already made it abundantly clear.”

  “What did she say? Were you able to patch things up with her? We’ll have to rescind the offer to Alice, obviously. Fortunately, she hasn’t signed the contract yet. I can smooth things over with Clarissa’s father if need be . . .”

  “There won’t be any need, Mother.” Geoffrey set his cup on the floor then stretched out his legs and tipped his head back. With his eyes closed, he could pretend this was a bad dream. “It’s over.”

  A long silence followed, and for the first time, Geoffrey saw the similarities between Clarissa and his mother. They were both amazing women who could handle anything that came their way, but they didn’t always care if relationships were damaged in the process.

  “Whatever you and Alice were doing is over? Or you and Clarissa are over?” Lady Chatsworth asked slowly.

  “Everything’s over, Mother.” His voice rose, even though it wasn’t his mother he was angry with. “Clarissa and me, the funding for the museum, whatever I hoped would happen with Alice, my career . . . Should I keep going?”

  “What do you mean, you ‘hoped would happen’?”

  Geoffrey wasn’t sure how to answer that. What had he hoped? That he could kiss Alice again? Definitely. He’d definitely hoped that. That there would be something more with Alice? Absolutely. Why else would he sit for hours in a lounge eating terrible bar food in the hopes he’d get to see her one more time before she left?

  What he’d hoped would happen is that they’d have a happily ever after.

  He let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I only know I never felt for Clarissa what I feel for Alice.”

  “Oh, Geoffrey.” The sympathy in his mother’s voice gave him a moment of hope, which she quickly dashed. “You’ve only just met her. You haven’t even known her a week. How can you possibly feel stronger for her than you’ve ever felt for Clarissa? You and Clarissa have been apart for six months; you just need to get to know each other again.”

  “Clarissa and I were over before I met Alice, but I kept putting off telling her. I’d hoped she felt it too and would be the one to break things off with me, but things moved quickly with Alice.” Geoffrey picked up his teacup, took another long sip, then started for the kitchen. He couldn’t hang out in his closet all day.

  “Oh, for the love of . . . You’re being ridiculous, Son. Do you think Alice is interested in something more than your money and your title? Why else would she risk jumping into bed with her boss?”

  “I haven’t slept with her, Mother. Everything I’ve done with her you’ve seen on the front page of The Tattler.” He set his mug on the dining room table then mouthed help to Ardis who watched him from a desk across the room. “And she knows I have no money.”

  “Then she’s an even bigger idiot than I thought, letting her employer kiss her.”

  Ardis crossed the room and showed Geoffrey his calendar on her iPad. He had an appointment with an assessor to take a look at the Monet.

  “And you’re an idiot for throwing everything away to chase after an American nobody. You didn’t read her background check like I did. Her family are not the kind of people you want to attach yourself to.”

  “Thank you, Mother. It’s always nice to know you think so highly of me, your idiot son.” Geoffrey sank into a chair at the table.

  “I’m not accepting any invitations to your pity party, Geoffrey. You know you’ve made a mess of things, and for what? A woman you barely know who is so far beneath you that—”

  “Mother,” he warned.

  “Do not pull a Meghan Markle on us; you are not a prince. You don’t have the luxury of attaching yourself to someone like Alice Donnelly.”

  “Yeah, neither did Harry, but he seems to have figured it out. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Geoffrey—”

  He cut her off before she could say anything else, then tossed his phone on the table next to Ardis. “If she calls back, I don’t care what you tell her, but I’m not talking to her again today.”

  Ardis nodded without saying anything.

  “In fact, the only person I want to talk to today is Alice. If she calls, let me know.” He stood and picked up his tea. “I’ll be in the studio.” He should be on the phone talking to his bankers or else seeking new funding, but that’s not what he was going to do. He was going to sculpt.

  “And if Mr. Barclay calls?” Ardis said to his back.

  Geoffrey stopped in the middle of the hallway. Clarissa’s dad was the last person in the world he wanted to talk to. “I’ll take it.” Clarissa’s threat hadn’t been an idle one. Her father could easily pull the funding he’d promised—both in loans and donations—and influence other bankers to do the same.

  Before going into the studio, he changed from his pajama bottoms into his work clothes. He needed to feel like he was in control of something, and the only place that could happen was in the studio. The fate of the museum was in other people’s hands, and Alice’s fate depended on what those people decided. The only thing he had complete control over was what he created.

  At some point he’d have to call Alice and tell her what had happened and why. It was the middle of the night in LA, and even if it weren’t, it didn’t make sense to tell her everything until he had a much better idea of all the repercussions of his actions. Sculpting would put his mind and his nerves in a better place. He’d lost everything because he’d kissed Alice, but he’d still do it again.

  As long as he didn’t lose her too.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even though all she wanted to do was sleep after landing in LA, Alice called Geoffrey. When he didn’t answer, she tried to make herself believe it was for the best because she had so much to do, even though she wanted to talk to
him more than she wanted to do anything else.

  When she called again the following day, she decided she had to keep things with him compartmentalized. There were the days they’d spent together and the kisses they’d shared in one box, and in the other was the man who’d hired her and was depending on her to make his art collection both accessible and profitable. He could lose everything, including the art, if his plan to open Binchley Hall to the public didn’t work.

  Hearing his voice and talking to him about anything but the Grey collection before she started working for him would make it much harder to keep their relationship platonic.

  And with her long list of to-dos, she didn’t have time to spend hours on the phone with him. In the next two and half weeks, she had to wrap up the last few things at the gallery where she’d been working, pack up her apartment and put her things in storage, say goodbye to the few friends she had, talk to an art appraiser about the Unicorn painting, and visit her family in Bakersfield.

  So Alice quit calling Geoffrey and spent the next week texting back and forth with him instead, with a promise that they would talk after she’d met with the art appraiser. She hoped once she met with Mary Sonntag, the assessor who’d helped her with her New York client’s Giotto, she’d have good news to share with Geoffrey about the painting’s potential value. If she could get him to open up about his own artwork and the Unicorn’s influence on it, she felt certain she could convince him to show his work with the collection. The story of the painting and Lord Grey’s connection to it was compelling enough to gain a lot of attention. And attention meant visitors to the museum. And visitors meant money.

  The morning of her appointment with Mary, Alice could barely contain her excitement. Although all she had were pictures of the Unicorn that she’d had blown up to get closer views of different parts of the painting, she hoped they’d be enough for the assessor to want to see the picture in person. There was no reason to bring the painting this far if Mary could tell from the pictures it was more flea market than authentic. Alice didn’t think so, but Mary was the foremost art appraiser in America or Europe who specialized in medieval art. If she didn’t have confidence the painting was hundreds of years old, then Geoffrey could always take it to someone in London for a second opinion.

  Mary’s office was in an unassuming Beverly Hills office building, and as soon as Alice stepped off the elevator, she was there waiting for her.

  “I couldn’t wait to see you!” she said. “If what you suspect is true, then you’ve made an incredible find! Can you imagine? A Giotto hanging in the kitchen?”

  Alice followed Mary into her office, carrying the portfolio with the 8 x 10 unicorn pictures in it. “I know. I hope I’m not wrong about this. My client needs this to be true.”

  She laid the portfolio on Mary’s cluttered desk and fanned the photos over the papers scattered across the desk. Mary took out a magnifying glass to examine the photos more closely while Alice took a seat across from her, jiggling her leg up and down while Mary said nothing but “hmm” with each picture.

  When she’d finished, she set down the loupe and leaned back in her chair. Then she smiled.

  “I think you should tell your client to bring it here.”

  “Really?” Alice let out her breath and smiled back. “I knew I was right.”

  “Let’s not get too excited until we have it and I can do some thorough forensic testing, but I’ll be very surprised if it’s not the real thing.”

  “That is very good news.” Even though it was the news she’d expected to hear, Alice was more excited than she could have imagined. And not just because of what it meant for her. This discovery would be even better for Geoffrey and his family. “I can have the painting here by day after tomorrow.”

  “If it’s the real thing, Preston Clark will want to know about it. He’ll likely want to add this panel to his other two, and I imagine he’ll pay a lot of money to do so.” Mary leaned forward and clasped her hands on her desk.

  “I don’t know if the owners want to part with it.” Geoffrey had said himself he wasn’t sure he could part with it, but even if he hadn’t, Alice had seen it in his eyes, and heard it in the way he talked about the painting. “But let’s cross that bridge once we’re certain about what we have.”

  Alice stayed long enough to share a cup of coffee with Mary while Mary examined the photos again, shaking her head in disbelief. Then Alice got in her car, and despite the fact it was still early morning in London, she texted Geoffrey to tell him she had good news.

  Within a few minutes her phone was ringing, and Geoffrey’s number appeared on the screen. She’d hoped he would Facetime so she could see his face when she told him but hearing his voice would have to be enough.

  “Can you get here by tomorrow with the painting?” she said when she answered the call, skipping any hellos and how are yous.

  “The assessor thinks it’s the real thing?” His voice didn’t hold the excitement she’d expected, but she still relished hearing it again.

  “She does.” Alice hated LA traffic, but today it moved slowly enough toward the 405 freeway entrance that she could give Geoffrey all of her attention rather than yelling at the idiot drivers around her. “Do you know how big this is? If the Unicorn is real, it could possibly sell for so much more than your Monet.”

  “That’s great,” Geoffrey answered slowly.

  “You okay? I was expecting a bigger reaction.”

  “Just trying to wrap my head around it. It’s very exciting.” He still sounded like he was holding something back. She wasn’t used to him leaving silence unanswered. He usually had something to say to fill that space. “I’d better go. I’ve got to look into getting Ardis to LA and prepping the painting for travel.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “I’ve got too many things to do here if we’re going to get this museum up and running.”

  “That makes sense.” She hoped it was the only reason. “I just . . . miss you.”

  Cars moved forward, but Alice didn’t notice until someone behind her honked. She wondered if Geoffrey was pushing her away or just doing the same thing she was by compartmentalizing their relationship into work and personal. Right now, it was work.

  “I’ll call tomorrow,” Geoffrey answered gently, which eased her mind somewhat.

  “Okay.”

  Once Geoffrey hung up, Alice picked up speed and focused her attention on the road ahead of her. Had something changed between them? She still wanted a relationship with him, but she didn’t want it to be complicated. Life was complicated enough. Falling in love should be easy.

  That thought occupied her all the way home, along with the realization that she really didn’t know Geoffrey well at all. At least, she didn’t know very much about him, even if she did understand him. Knowing him had come easier than knowing about him, but that problem was easily solved. She had Google to tell her everything she didn’t know.

  When she got home, the first thing Alice did was open her laptop and Google Lord Geoffrey Grey. If she’d known she was about to discover something painful rather than entertaining or informative, she wouldn’t have been so excited to research him. But the first link that came up was to a headline that said Does Lord G’s Fling Mean No Ring?

  She clicked the link while praying that Lord G wasn’t Geoffrey and, if he was, that his fling was anybody but her. She knew the prayer had gone unheard as soon as the picture of her and Geoffrey kissing popped up. The article only made things worse. Geoffrey essentially had a fiancé, and Alice was the other woman who’d broken them up.

  Her face burned as she thought about how Geoffrey had been treating her since she’d left London—not returning her calls, barely talking to her when he did answer, texting short messages. He had charmed her, she’d fallen for him, and now that he’d gotten what he wanted, he was moving on.

  Shame washed over her and all she could do was sit with it. When she tried to think what to do next, the only thing that c
ame to her simply added to her humiliation. She’d have to ask for her job back at the gallery. There was no way she could work with Geoffrey after what he’d done to her. Instead of curating her dream collection, she’d have to go back to taking orders from a boss who didn’t know how to put together a great exhibit—or even a good one—and didn’t want any input from her even if he did know how.

  Alice barely slept that night. Her anger at Geoffrey wouldn’t let her brain shut down, so she tossed and turned, and when she did finally get out of bed it was to find that her bathroom sink was totally clogged. The last thing she wanted to do was spend money on a plumber to fix a sink she’d only be using for a few more days, which meant she’d have to snake the drain herself.

  She was up to her elbows in disgusting water when her phone rang and Geoffrey’s number popped up. As tempted as she was to ignore the call, Ardis would likely be arriving soon and Alice needed to know when that would be. If she didn’t get anything else out of her relationship with Geoffrey, Alice would make sure she got credit for discovering his unicorn painting. If it turned out to be a Giotto—or even from the fourteenth century—she would be known as the person who recognized it. That would go a long way in adding to her reputation, and hopefully lead to another job as good as the Grey museum could have been.

  She quickly dried her hands, then put Geoffrey on speaker. “Is Ardis here yet?” She kept her voice calm and professional. There would be no small talk, or even a hello. There would definitely not be any more I miss yous either.

  “Sort of.” He sounded like he was in the middle of Times Square, but then a door slammed, and the background noise disappeared. “I need your address.”

  “What for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “I need to know why, Geoffrey, and we need to talk.” He’d have to be an idiot not to hear the anger in her voice.

  “I know we do, Alice, and I promise we will. But right now, I really need your address.”

  She debated for a second whether or not to let him have it, but he sounded desperate. “123 La Cienega Boulevard, El Segundo.”