The Earl's Prize (Harlequin Historical) Page 8

  The Duke’s phaeton was ahead of them as they drove down Piccadilly and Amy could see that the Duke was speaking to Amanda, and that her friend’s animated face was turned up to his as she smiled and replied. Evidently Amanda’s reserve had melted under the onslaught of Fleet’s charm. Amy had thought on that first night that these men were dangerous but now she was beginning to see just how perilous they could be, with their careless charm and polished address. Her head was screwed on with practicality and commonsense, but she could feel it turning even so.

  Amy cast a sideways look at Joss’s face. He was concentrating on the driving, for they had reached a place where the road narrowed and a brewery dray was drawn up ahead whilst the carter rolled barrels of ale across the street. Joss’s dark brows were drawn together slightly in concentration and the amber eyes were narrowed, but there was still a hint of a smile about that firm mouth. The sight of it did strange things to Amy’s equilibrium.

  Joss turned his head and smiled at her and her heart performed a sudden and erratic leap. Amy was immediately cross with herself. She did not even like the man and had previously been thinking of him in terms of direst disapproval, yet now—just because he had smiled at her—she was in a fair way to forgiving him for being a scoundrel. It was not good enough.

  ‘It is an unusual female who can forbear to talk all the time, Miss Bainbridge,’ Joss said easily as the phaeton regained the clear road, ‘but then I am beginning to think that you are…quite unusual.’

  Amy’s heart fluttered again and she quelled it ruthlessly. ‘Oh, I was only concerned that I should not distract you from your driving,’ she said airily. ‘For though I have heard tell that you are a prodigious whip, my lord, it seems that these carriages are somewhat dangerous and I had no wish to be overturned in the gutter.’

  Joss burst out laughing. ‘Upon my word, Miss Bainbridge, you have a way of depressing a fellow’s pretensions! I’ll have you know that I have never overturned a phaeton in my life!’

  Amy smiled sweetly. ‘There could always be a first time, my lord!’

  ‘For everything, so they say.’ Suddenly there was a disturbing light in Joss’s eyes and Amy felt herself go hot all over, without knowing quite why. She looked away.

  ‘Logically that must be so,’ she said crisply. ‘I cannot let your observation pass, however, my lord! It seems to me that you must have a low opinion of females. I assure you that some of us are quiet by nature, though we are all different, of course.’

  Joss grimaced. ‘I feel suitably reproved, Miss Bainbridge.’

  ‘So I should hope!’ Amy frowned. ‘I have the strangest feeling, my lord, that you do not view the female sex in any very positive light—’

  ‘Ah, now you are quite mistaken, Miss Bainbridge.’ Joss’s drawl was pronounced. ‘I have a very high opinion of females and their attributes!’

  Amy blushed but persisted. ‘I did not mean like that—’

  ‘Like what, precisely?’

  Amy glared at him. ‘Now you are deliberately teasing me when you know quite well what I mean! I am sure that there are ladies that you admire in a particular way…’ She caught the amusement in his eye and subsided. ‘Very well. We shall end the conversation there!’

  ‘Pray do not! I am vastly enjoying myself.’

  Amy sighed. ‘You know perfectly well what I meant!’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ Joss grinned at her. ‘You, Miss Bainbridge, have fallen into the trap of making assumptions. You suppose that my only interest in women is…’ He caught her eye and smiled. ‘Is of an amorous nature. On the little that you know of me, you have decided that I am a gambler and a rake, with no virtues to counteract my vices! You are as guilty of making generalisations as I am!’

  Amy blinked. Put like that, she could see the justice of his remark. ‘Very well!’ she said with spirit. ‘What good qualities can you offer in mitigation for the bad?’

  Joss laughed. ‘Why, none at all! In my case it is quite true. But you see, Miss Bainbridge—’ the twinkle in his eye became more pronounced ‘—I do not see anything wrong in my behaviour. I make no judgements about right and wrong. I do not have your certainty!’

  Amy felt confused. ‘But gambling is wrong, just as theft is wrong—’ She broke off, remembering the ragged children in Whitechapel who had been punished for stealing a loaf of bread to survive. ‘That is, theft is wrong but sometimes there may be reasons to excuse it. But gambling is always wrong and there are no excuses!’

  Joss’s lips twitched. ‘Very well, Miss Bainbridge. I concede. You would make a fine judge!’

  Amy felt hot and frustrated. She had never previously thought that her ideas were inflexible and now that she examined her views she was still convinced of their rightness. The only thing that worried her slightly was that no one had challenged her before. It was an entirely new experience.

  The press of traffic had brought them to a temporary standstill, which was not what Amy wanted. She wanted to be home very quickly and to put an end to this disturbing conversation. It was not to be, however, so she searched around for a lighter tone.

  ‘Speaking of gambling, my lord—’

  ‘Yes, Miss Bainbridge?’

  ‘I confess that there is one thing about it that has always puzzled me. Perhaps you could explain to me, my lord, what pleasure there is in losing? It seems to me that some people take almost as much joy in the one as the other. As such an ardent gamester yourself, perhaps you could enlighten me?’

  Joss laughed. ‘That is a very interesting question but not one that I can answer! Did no one ever tell you that I never lose, Miss Bainbridge?’

  Amy stared at him. ‘Truly? You are funning me! The odds against winning all the time must be immense.’

  Joss laughed again. ‘I see that you know plenty about betting, Miss Bainbridge! What would you say are the odds against winning the lottery?’

  Amy’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. Lady Bainbridge had once told her that most men did not like females of a mathematical bent but she had thought it was one of the most foolish things she had ever heard.

  ‘I would calculate…about forty thousand to one?’

  ‘Very good. Apparently it is about thirty-five thousand to one. You must have a keen mind for arithmetic—or an inbred talent for weighing the odds. Perhaps your family would make more money if your brother gave up gambling and you took it up in his place? I am sorry to have to say it, but his talent appears to be for losing!’

  Amy pursed her lips. ‘I have observed it myself. Perhaps I should address my question to Richard, then, rather than yourself?’

  Joss inclined his head. ‘As to that, I think I can explain. It is the game that is the thing, Miss Bainbridge. The excitement is in the challenge of play. It matters not one whit whether one wins or loses—to play is all!’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I am sorry—that makes no sense at all.’

  Joss grinned. ‘Perhaps not, to one of your practical disposition. Can you imagine, Miss Bainbridge, the excitement of waiting on the roll of the dice? The pure chance of it? In hazard, for example, you know that all rests on the one throw. You might lose or you might win all. Just as in the lottery your ticket may come up and you might be…oh, thirty thousand pounds the richer! You see—’ his gaze had sharpened on her and Amy felt a shiver go through her ‘—you do feel it! No one is immune from that excitement.’

  Amy shivered again, sharply. Whatever she said, she did understand the lure. For a moment she too had been swept up in the excitement of playing and winning, until she had remembered that she was winning the lottery on someone else’s behalf. That had brought her swiftly down to earth.

  ‘Did you have a lottery ticket for today’s draw, Miss Bainbridge?’

  The question took Amy off guard and she jumped, blushing. For some reason she did not wish to admit to Joss that she was in possession of the winning ticket. It seemed too much like hypocrisy after her words earlier. She paused, frowning. Surely his opinion of
her should not matter in the slightest…

  ‘I…yes…no…certainly not! I would never buy a ticket! I only went to the Guildhall to meet Richard—’ She broke off, flustered. Joss was watching her with interest, which only served to fluster her all the more.

  ‘I see. Yes, I remember you saying you were taking Richard’s ticket for him. Yet suppose that you had…found…a ticket of your own, Miss Bainbridge. What would you have done then?’

  Amy flushed scarlet. ‘I have no notion, sir. The matter does not arise.’

  She stopped, a little shocked that she had been less than truthful with him. It seemed absurd to be so guarded because once she had given the ticket to Richard and told him the good news of his win he would surely share his good fortune with his friends. No doubt he would share it literally, in fact, by gambling all the money away to them. There was no real reason why she could not tell Joss that Richard’s ticket had won the thirty thousand pounds, except…Except that she felt a curious protectiveness about the money and the win. God help her, she was already starting to think of it as her money.

  Amy grimaced. She had to cure herself of that delusion before it led her further astray. Any moment now she would be asking herself whether she really had to tell Richard at all. She could arrange for the family’s man of business, Churchward, to collect the prize. He was very discreet and would tell no one if she asked him. Then she could use the money for various good causes—in small portions, of course, so as not to arouse suspicion. There were hundreds of people more worthy than her brother, people who deserved her help. Mrs Wendover, for example, bringing up four small children in that slum in Whitechapel, and Mrs Benfleet, the nurse, suffering her ill health uncomplainingly out at Windsor…Amy’s heart did a huge lurch. It was so tempting, but, of course, it was theft; had she not just said that theft was wrong—although there were sometimes mitigating circumstances.

  ‘Stop!’ Amy had not realised that she had spoken aloud, desperate to halt her wayward train of thought before it tempted her any further. Joss was looking startled.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Bainbridge. Is there some problem?’

  ‘No,’ Amy said, screwing her eyes up tightly in mortification. ‘I was merely thinking of the lottery and did not realise that I had spoken aloud.’

  ‘I see. Was it the thought of all that dreadful gambling that distressed you, or the heady temptation of it all?’ Joss’s voice dropped to a soft murmur. ‘It is so terribly tempting, is it not? So seductive…’

  Amy opened her eyes and stared at him. The Earl of Tallant was a very perceptive man, which somehow seemed quite wrong, given his reputation. He was also a very dangerous man. Once again she felt that stirring of excitement that had rippled through her body when he had spoken of the lure of gambling. It was not simply a question of enticing innocents to part with their money. The temptation was inside everyone. It was subtle, wicked. She looked at Joss accusingly.

  ‘I do believe that you are a very wicked person, my lord, to speak so persuasively of something that is so bad…’

  Joss laughed. ‘You are correct, Miss Bainbridge. There is no end to my wickedness!’

  They were back in Curzon Street at last. Amy gave a little, unconscious sigh, suddenly uncertain whether she was glad or sorry to be back home. Whilst she felt a certain relief to be back on familiar ground, she also felt disappointed.

  ‘Thank you very much, my lord. It was very kind of you to escort me back.’

  ‘Not at all, Miss Bainbridge.’ Joss Tallant inclined his head. ‘I have enjoyed your company.’

  They drew to a halt outside Number 3. Fleet was already helping Amanda down from his phaeton. Amy thought that her friend looked flushed and slightly ruffled, as though she was torn between enjoyment and disapproval. Amy knew just how she felt.

  Before she was quite prepared, Joss took her hand and swung her down from the phaeton to the ground, his arm hard about her waist. For a second her palm rested against his chest and she could have sworn, fancifully, that she felt the beat of his heart. It was all over swiftly, yet Amy was left with an impression of strength and power and felt a curious, quivering awareness through her whole body. She did not feel quite steady as Joss set her on her feet and let go of her, very gently.

  ‘Good day, Miss Bainbridge. Lady Spry…’

  Fleet was directing the grooms to take the phaetons away. Both he and Joss gave the ladies a punctilious bow, before striding off in the direction of St James.

  ‘So that is that, then,’ Amy said, feeling curiously flat and finding it difficult to tear her gaze away from Joss’s retreating figure. ‘What a very odd day this is! Would you care to come in for a cup of tea, Amanda, and we may have that chat we promised ourselves?’

  Amy was amused to see that Amanda’s gaze was riveted on the Duke of Fleet and that she had to repeat her question before she was heard.

  ‘Amanda? Amanda, are you feeling quite the thing?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Amanda said, her blue eyes shining. She turned away and focussed on Amy’s face. ‘I beg your pardon, I was woolgathering. A cup of tea would be most delightful, Amy!’ She cast a look over her shoulder. Joss and Sebastian Fleet had just turned the corner into Clarges Street.

  ‘I wonder…They say that he is the most dreadful rake and I know I should avoid him, but—’ She broke off and gave a tiny shrug. ‘Ah, well. The Duke has invited me to accompany him to a ball next week and I am not at all sure I should accept!’

  ‘But do you think you will go?’ Amy enquired, opening the door and ushering her friend inside. ‘You may be more accustomed to such society than I am, Amanda, but I find the company of rakes and gamblers a little too exciting for my tastes!’

  ‘Oh, I live quite retired now and a Duke is far above my touch,’ Amanda said, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘When we were first introduced I was determined to be cool to him, for Fleet is most unsuitable! All the same, he was vastly agreeable to me, Amy, and I think I may accept his invitation.’

  ‘Did he flirt with you just now?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course!’ Amanda giggled. ‘That was part of the fun of the journey!’

  ‘I cannot flirt,’ Amy said, a little regretfully, as she took her cloak off and helped Amanda with hers. ‘I do not know how to do it. I am too shy, I suppose.’

  Amanda looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I’ll allow that you have always seemed reserved on the surface, Amy—with gentlemen, at least, but I would not say that you are shy, precisely. You have a sharp wit when you choose to exercise it! Besides, think how your family have relied upon you to keep matters together since your father’s death. You should be proud of that, I think!’

  Amy looked self-conscious. ‘You are kind to me, Amanda! You always were when we were at school together. But there is no denying it—I did not take at my come-out and I have no means to attract the gentlemen.’ A frown wrinkled her forehead. ‘Not that I am entirely sure I would wish to do so…’

  Amanda smiled. ‘If you wish to learn to flirt, it is surely a skill I could teach you!’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Amy viewed her reflection, sparrow brown, in the hall mirror for a moment. ‘I think not. I do not look the part.’

  ‘It is but a matter of dress and presentation.’ Amanda had moved to stand at her shoulder. ‘You have good taste, Amy, and with a few new clothes you will look the very thing. Now that you have the money, there is no difficulty.’

  Amy clutched convulsively at her reticule. This was the moment to put her friend to rights about the lottery win, before there were any more misunderstandings. Before she was tempted once again to keep the money for herself.

  ‘Amanda,’ she began, ‘the money is not—’

  The parlour door opened.

  ‘Lady Bainbridge!’ Amanda turned with a rustle of silks and perfume. ‘How charming to see you again, ma’am.’ Before Amy could gesture her to silence, she had burst out, ‘You will not believe the most wonderful news—Amy has won the lottery!’

  Chapter
Five

  Joss Tallant cast aside the Morning Chronicle and reached for his glass of claret. On the sofa opposite him slumbered the Duke of Fleet, sleeping off the previous night’s excesses, his large bulk shaken every so often by a sonorous snore. Fleet had declared that the lottery draw had taken the last of his strength. The Club was quiet and almost empty. Only the occasional rattle of the dice box and rustle of a newspaper disturbed the early afternoon peace.

  Joss had given up temporarily on the affairs of the nation, for he had been amused and surprised to find his thoughts veering towards something rather more close to home. Miss Amy Bainbridge, to be precise. Miss Bainbridge, who had proved to be no pattern-card female, who had roundly condemned gambling and who had, he suspected, stolen his winning lottery ticket.

  Perhaps stolen was putting it a little strongly, Joss reflected, with a grimace. He took another sip of the wine and sat back, considering. Certainly he could not blame Miss Bainbridge for his own carelessness in losing his ticket in the first place. Until the draw had taken place he had not even been aware that it was lost, but as soon as he realised that it was gone, he had traced his actions back to the dining room at 3 Curzon Street and the gambling session two nights before. How simple to drop a small piece of paper and not to notice! How easy for Miss Bainbridge to come along in the morning, pick it up, go to the lottery draw and find herself the winner—of thirty thousand pounds!

  He could be wrong, of course, but he had a gambler’s instinct that he was on the right track and there were various clues to help him. First, there had been Miss Bainbridge’s excessive attachment to her reticule. Every so often she would glance down at it to make sure that it was still there. She had been clutching the bag as though it were a lifeline—or as though it contained something very precious.

  Then there was the fact that she had looked very dazed and confused when he had first come up to her outside the Guildhall. Joss had had that effect on any number of females, but on this occasion he was not vain enough to ascribe Miss Bainbridge’s condition to his charm. No, indeed, she had looked like someone who had won a huge sum of money but could not quite believe it. Or someone who knew they had won a huge sum of money by means that were not quite proper…