The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress (26 page)

“No worse than anyone else’s,” he pointed out.

“That is not a recommendation.” She cast him a disgusted look. “As I was saying, while I don’t entirely trust you, ultimately it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“I’m not the one whose trust you need to earn. Therefore, I would strongly suggest you come up with a definite plan.”

“I am trying.”

“Try harder,” she snapped. “You need to tell her the truth, all of it, and I suspect there’s quite a lot to tell. She needs to hear it from you. The longer you wait—”

“I am more than aware of that,” he said sharply.

“Oh, well, as long as you’re aware of it.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “There’s some very nice Scottish whisky in the cabinet by the window. You look as if you could use something to strengthen your courage.”

He was about to argue that his courage didn’t need strengthening but thought better of it.

“I have a great deal to do before the guests arrive.” She started toward the door. “There’s no dinner tonight, but we are having a late supper. You might want to get yourself a bite to eat. I’m assuming you brought something appropriate to wear this evening.”

“I did.”

“It’s nice to know you haven’t abandoned good manners in your quest for, well, whatever it is you’re looking for.” She paused and studied him for a moment. “I am extremely fond of Lucy. You might want to keep that in mind as well.”

In spite of the mildness of her tone, there was a distinct warning in her words.

“I shall,” Cam said.

“See that you do.” She nodded and again started for the door. “I do hope you brought money with you. It might be an expensive evening.”

He grinned. “Not if I win.”

“I, for one, would not wager on you.” She scoffed, opened the door, and took her leave.

Cam found the whisky and poured himself a glass. Lady Dunwell was right. He could indeed use this. He took a grateful swallow.

If Lucy knew about his name it was entirely likely she knew everything, at least judging from what Lady Dunwell had said. Actually, upon reflection, Lady Dunwell really hadn’t said anything of substance. He wasn’t sure if she, and therefore Lucy, was talking about his work for the
Messenger
or his alleged profession as a private investigator. It certainly wasn’t something he could ask her to clarify. But if Lucy knew everything, why hadn’t she said anything? She was not the kind of woman who would keep something like that to herself.

Unless she was toying with him. He sipped the whisky thoughtfully. Waiting until he got in deeper and deeper before pulling the rug out from underneath him, probably as retribution for his less than completely honest behavior. Brilliant and diabolical. That was the woman he loved. Very well then. He’d play her game. It would be a challenge, it would be fun, and he’d win.

He’d bet both their hearts on it.

Lucy’s gaze met Cameron’s over the table. She did so love it when he looked as if he couldn’t quite believe she knew what she was doing. Not completely shocked but definitely doubtful. Hadn’t the poor dear learned anything about her by now? Mother had indeed turned her into the perfect daughter, but one didn’t grow up with four brothers without learning a few things in spite of her mother’s best efforts. Things like riding astride and playing card games deemed unsuitable for ladies.

She and Cameron sat at a table with Beryl’s husband Lionel, Lord Fairborough, a Mr. Wilcox, a Sir Edwin Parker, and a Lord Larken. In the hour or so that they’d been at the table, Lucy had realized Cameron was good but a relatively cautious player, which did surprise her, although given his concern about propriety, it probably shouldn’t have. But somehow she had expected him to be less thoughtful and more brash in his playing. Perhaps it was the influence of the older gentlemen, who were, for the most part, more enthusiastic than they were skilled, but then they had said at the beginning their games were not intended to be terribly serious but were more for the enjoyment of playing and the companionship of like-minded friends. Lucy had always been excellent at all kinds of cards, and while it had been years since she’d played poker, it did seem to be coming back to her. Thus far, the wagers had been relatively insignificant, with winning and losing hands more or less evenly distributed among the group. Lucy couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed. She had expected much more significant wagering after all, and given the disgusted looks on the older gentlemen’s faces, they agreed with her.

“We might as well be playing with pennies. I blame the ladies for this,” Sir Edwin muttered, then realized what he’d said and flashed Lucy an apologetic smile. “I don’t mean you, my dear.”

“He means Lady Fairborough and the wives of the other gentlemen,” Lord Fairborough said with a sigh of resignation. “They aren’t usually present, you see, and I’m afraid we find being in the same room with them somewhat daunting.”

“Dampens the spirits and all. Damnably hard to have a good time with your wife sitting at the next table where she can see exactly how much you’re wagering,” Mr. Wilcox said under his breath. “And how much you’re losing.”

“Even worse.” Lord Larken smirked. “How much you’re winning.”

The other gentlemen chuckled in a wry manner. As Beryl had explained it, when she’d invited Lord Fairborough to have his friends play at Millworth, while Lady Fairborough hadn’t been at all unhappy at the move, she had expressed a sort of wistful disappointment that the evening was only to be for the gentlemen as it had been months since there had been any kind of social gathering at Millworth. And wasn’t it a pity not to take advantage of Beryl being in residence at the manor for something more social than an evening of cards for old men? Particularly as Beryl was such an accomplished hostess. Beryl related all this with a perplexed expression and admitted she wasn’t at all sure how it had happened, but Lady Fairborough was far cleverer than Beryl had ever suspected. One thing had led to another and before she had realized it, a straightforward evening of poker had become a card party with no fewer than a dozen people. Three tables had been set up in the gallery, although only two were being used as all the men present had chosen to play poker.

“I suspect we can do something about that.” Lucy cast a smile around the table and played a card. “As we are about to go into supper, perhaps the tables can be rearranged while we eat. One placed in the parlor for the ladies’ games, and ours in the library. Will that do?”

“Admirably, Miss Merryweather.” Lord Fairborough beamed. “And, might I add, an excellent idea.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“And I see the signal for supper,” Lionel said. “Just in time to save me from attempting to bluff my way through a most disappointing hand.”

“I should think you would be used to bluffing,” Sir Edwin said mildly. “Given your position in politics and all.”

“Admittedly, it’s a skill that has come in handy on more than one occasion. But unfortunately, not tonight.” Lionel laughed and tossed his cards on the table. “I am, however, optimistic that a little sustenance and a move to a more favorable surrounding will change my luck entirely.” He nodded at Lucy. “I’ll mention your suggestion about the tables to Beryl.”

“I pass,” Mr. Wilcox said at Lucy’s right.

“I could certainly use a little more luck myself.” Lucy sighed and laid down her cards. “I too pass.”

It was apparently a common sentiment as the three remaining players passed as well, leaving Cameron to collect this hand’s meager winnings. The gentlemen stood, Cameron quickly circling the table to help her with her chair.

She rose to her feet and he leaned closer and spoke softly for her ears alone. “You’re not planning on fleecing these old men, are you?”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m not
planning
on it.”

He chuckled. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“Why?” Her brow rose. “Because I know how to play poker?”

“Because you play to win.”

“Goodness, Cameron, why wouldn’t I? Don’t you?” She gazed into his eyes and once again it was as if the rest of the world faded away. She drew a steadying breath. “We have to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“You know perfectly well what. Gazing into each other’s eyes as if nothing and no one existed except for you and I. It’s happened on more than one occasion. Why . . .” She met his gaze firmly and raised her chin. “One might think we were in love.”

He stared as if he had no idea why she would say such a thing. Her heart plummeted and her stomach lurched. Good God, what had come over her? Certainly she did want to know if her feelings were returned, but she might as well have come straight out and asked him. Judging from the startled look on his face, like a rat caught in a trap, the idea hadn’t so much as crossed his mind. And wasn’t that humiliating?

“Silly idea, of course. Why, we barely know each other.” She adopted a crisp tone. “Now, if you will excuse me, I would like a bite to eat.” She nodded, turned, resisted the need to flee, and willed herself to walk in a serene and sedate manner to the dining room.

A light supper of cold meats and cheeses and assorted other dishes had been arranged on the sideboard. As this was a fairly impromptu gathering, an informal meal was to be expected, but Beryl and the Millworth kitchen staff had done an outstanding job. Still, as appealing as the offerings appeared, Lucy had little appetite. Regardless, she stood at the sideboard and filled her plate.

How could she have been such a fool as to have fallen in love with a man who was so clearly not in love with her? A man who wouldn’t even give her his real name? She was not a stupid woman, but bringing up the mere suggestion of love with him was not one of her brighter ideas, although she really hadn’t given it much thought. She had opened her mouth and the words had simply fallen out of their own accord. In spite of his reaction, and completely aside from the fact that he’d taken every opportunity presented him to kiss her and quite thoroughly at that, it was hard to believe she was the only one who had been aware of those moments of, well, magic.

“I apologize if I upset you.” Cameron’s voice sounded behind her.

“Goodness, Mr. Fairchild.” She drew a steadying breath, plastered a polite smile on her face, and turned toward him. “Don’t be absurd. What on earth would I be upset about?”
Except for the fact that I very nearly told you I was in love with you. Oh, and that pesky business about you lying to me from the first moment we met.

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly, his gaze searching hers.

“Really? Nothing comes to mind?” It was all she could do to keep a smile on her face. “Nothing at all?”

He drew his brows together. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Come now, Mr. Fairchild, surely you’re smarter than that.”

He smiled weakly. “Apparently not.”

“Apparently,” she said in a sharper tone than she had intended. “If you will excuse me, I see Lady Fairborough and I did promise to sit with her.” She nodded smoothly and walked away, surprised she could do so given that her unsteady knees threatened to give way at any moment. And why on earth did she want to do nothing so much as to throw herself onto Lady Fairborough’s motherly shoulder and weep?

She took a chair beside the older lady, greeted the others at the table, and allowed the conversation to ebb and flow around her, while feigning a great deal of interest in the food on her plate. Somewhere between the sliced ham and some sort of savory pudding it struck her that she wasn’t being entirely fair. Even the most brilliant of men did tend to be, well, stupid when it came to matters of the heart. Hadn’t she seen it time and time again with her brothers? There was every chance the blank look on his face had nothing to do with how he really felt. Still, she was not about to go down that path again. If the man was in love with her, he should damn well do something about it.

Right after he confessed his deceits.

 

 

He was an idiot. There was nothing more to it than that. At least when it came to Lucy. Cam had suspected as much but now he had solid proof.

Lucy had presented him with the perfect opportunity and he’d let it slip through his fingers. When she’d looked directly into his eyes and said that one might think they were in love, he should have done something other than gape at her like, well, an idiot. He should have said something clever and charming and romantic. Or he should have taken her hand and kissed it and looked deeply into her eyes without saying a word. Even a simple smile would have sufficed. There was no need to declare himself right then and there, but there was a need to do
something
. She had simply taken him unawares. He was not prepared, but then he hadn’t been especially prepared since the moment he met her. It was unsettling, to say the least. A woman had never caught him unprepared before. He’d always been quick with a reply guaranteed to melt even the most resistant heart. But with Lucy he could barely remember his own name. Any of them.

This was getting out of hand. He had to do something. Anything. Without warning it struck him. He absolutely had to win her heart before he told her the truth. And not just her heart but her hand as well. And why not?

Marriage to Lucy wouldn’t be a penance but an adventure. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with after all. Besides, one would think it would be easier to forgive a man you loved, a man you intended to marry. It was the only chance he had if he didn’t want to lose her. How to go about it was the question. But Lady Dunwell was right. Even a bad plan was better than no plan at all, and while he didn’t have an actual plan, at least he now had a goal and an idea. By the time they’d returned to the tables, he’d made a few arrangements.

Admittedly, his efforts might be futile as she was even more annoyed with him now than she had been earlier today. She’d refused to look in his direction at all through supper. They’d resumed playing over an hour ago at a table set up in the library, without Lord Dunwell, who said he’d had enough for one night. Even though Lucy had returned to her seat directly across the table from Cam, where she couldn’t help but meet his eyes inadvertently, her gaze never settled on his for more than a fleeting instant. It was obvious that she didn’t, at the moment, want anything to do with him.

“I do feel compelled to apologize, Miss Merryweather.” Lord Fairborough shuffled the cards. “Usually, this is quite a rousing evening and Lady Dunwell had said you were looking forward to games with a little excitement. I did promise her as much. But tonight I’m afraid we’re all rather staid and somewhat dull.”

“It’s the influence of the ladies,” Mr. Wilcox said darkly. “I find it hard to enjoy myself unabashedly without thinking that my wife is aware of my every move even from another room.”

“It’s so much more entertaining when none of us pays any attention to how many glasses of port or whisky we’ve had. No one notices the lateness of the hour. And no one is concerned with how much they wager or even how much they lose.” Sir Edwin heaved a heartfelt sigh.

“We will confess to you, Miss Merryweather, that we had intended for this to be a rather high stakes game,” Lord Larken said in a confidential manner. “According to Lady Dunwell, you have a tidy fortune and we could all use a nice influx of cash at the moment. She had also implied that you were something of a, well, a madcap heiress and would find playing for high stakes most amusing.”

“Like the girl in those stories running in the
Messenger
,” Sir Edwin said.

Cam choked, then quickly grabbed his glass of whisky and tossed back a swallow.

“I never read the
Messenger
.” Lord Fairborough scoffed. “Although I will confess my wife does.”

“Damnably funny stories.” Sir Edwin chuckled. “About an American heiress trying to win her inheritance.”

“It does sound amusing,” Lucy said pleasantly. “I will make it a point to read it. However, I can assure you that no one has ever before referred to me as madcap.”

“Lady Dunwell certainly implied it.” Lord Larken cast an annoyed look at his friends. “So naturally we assumed that you would lose. We never imagined you actually knew how to play.”

The other gentlemen nodded.

Lucy’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I apologize for disappointing you. But I hope you realize”—she leaned closer to the older man—“the evening is not yet over. I could still lose and possibly a significant amount as well.”

“Would you?” Sir Edwin asked in a hopeful manner.

“Parker,” Lord Fairborough said sharply, and cast him a chastising look.

“Gentlemen.” Lucy’s eyes widened in feigned surprise. “Were you planning to, oh, what’s the word? Fleece me?”