Surrender

  In reality, he would actually drink very little this evening. He had learned long ago that a clear head gave him a distinct advantage in a game where his opponents usually preferred to fortify themselves with endless bottles of claret and port. The bottle of claret sitting at his elbow was simply more camouflage.

  A long time later, after nearly four hours of steady play, Lucas finally decided he had enough to placate his tailor and his bootmaker as well as sufficient to keep his small staff satisfied for a few more weeks. He excused himself from the game and went to collect his hat and coat.

  He realized he was tired. The intensity and concentration he brought to his card playing often left him feeling exhausted. But he knew it was precisely that intensity and concentration that helped him win on a reliable basis.

  It was the fashion among the men of the ton to play wildly and without much thought or analysis. Gaming was just one more way of displaying one’s wealth and style, a method of enhancing one’s sense of power and masculinity and impressing one’s companions with one’s sangfroid.

  Huge losses were handled with casual disdain as if money meant nothing. But it was no secret that some men went home and put a pistol to their own heads after a disastrous night at the tables.

  Lucas much preferred winning and he took great care to do so. Indeed, a man who was good at strategy could prosper at the gaming tables.

  He was halfway to the door when he spotted Edgeworth watching him from the hearth. The other man’s sullen dislike was palpable, but Lucas was not particularly concerned. The feeling was mutual. He had not minded in the least relieving Edgeworth of a sizable sum a fortnight ago. Lucas also had no intention of ever getting into another game with the man.

  “Good evening, Stonevale. Enjoying your outrageous little heiress?” Edgeworth spoke just loudly enough to catch Lucas’s attention. “A very interesting young lady, is she not?”

  Lucas contemplated Edgeworth’s taunting expression and wondered if he could simply ignore the man. Probably not. Young Merivale and his friend had overheard the remark. They were already turning their heads to see how Lucas would respond.

  “I do not discuss respectable women with your sort, Edgeworth,” Lucas said mildly. “Now that I think of it, I do not believe I would discuss women of any kind with you.”

  “’Tis said the lady in question has no intention of ever marrying,” Edgeworth continued, ignoring the clear warning in Lucas’s voice. “Since matrimony is not a possibility, may we assume you have other goals in mind for Miss Huntington? After all, the two of you are seen together so frequently one cannot help but speculate on the nature of your association.”

  This was what came of having a reputation for being slow to anger, Lucas thought ruefully. The fact that he had made no accusation against Edgeworth the night of their infamous card game had obviously emboldened the man.

  Meditatively Lucas sipped the claret, aware of his audience. Merivale and his companion were frowning now, waiting to see how Lucas would handle what bordered on a thinly veiled insult to Victoria’s virtue.

  “One would be wise to resist the temptation to speculate too much on Miss Huntington’s social activities,” Lucas said. “Unless, of course, one is prepared to present oneself at dawn in Clery Field accompanied by a pair of seconds.”

  The small tableau of Edgeworth, Merivale, and Merivale’s friend went abruptly still.

  Edgeworth eyed Lucas through narrowed lids. “Just what is that supposed to mean, Stonevale?”

  Lucas smiled his thinnest, coldest smile. “Precisely what it sounds like. I am, as you well know, prepared to let a little matter such as cheating at cards go unremarked. I am not, however, quite so sanguine when a slur is cast on an innocent young woman’s name. I leave the decision up to you, Edgeworth.”

  Edgeworth straightened away from the mantel, his face turning an angry shade of red. “Damn you, Stonevale. God damn you to hell, you bastard. Do you think your luck will hold out forever?” He turned on his heel and walked swiftly out of the room.

  Merivale and his companion watched with open mouths as Edgeworth departed. Lucas swallowed a far larger amount of claret than he’d had all evening. He considered himself fortunate that Edgeworth did not care to play any game in which the deck was not marked.

  “Good God,” Ferdie Merivale said, mopping his brow with a linen handkerchief. “Thought for a moment there I was going to get my first invitation to act as a second. I must say, you handled him very well, sir. Certainly cannot have Miss Huntington’s name bandied about in such a manner.”

  “I should say not,” Merivale’s companion put in. “Miss Huntington is a very decent sort of female. Danced with me at my first ball when I was damn sure I would make a complete ass of myself on the floor. After a couple of dances with her, I felt much more confident, and after being seen with her, I had no trouble getting other dances, I can tell you.”

  “She was extremely good to my sister,” Merivale added. “Poor Lucinda was stricken with the most awful case of shyness when she made her debut a year ago. Frozen with fear, you might say. But Miss Huntington took her under her wing and showed her how to go on in Society. Mama was excessively grateful, I can tell you. As a friend of Miss Huntington’s, Lucinda soon got some excellent invitations.”

  “Edgeworth backed right down, didn’t he?” the other young man observed eagerly. “But, then, lately I have heard rumors the man don’t much care for a fair game of any kind.”

  “I believe, sir,” Merivale said slowly, “that Edgeworth is a bit annoyed with you because of that little scene at the card table a while back. Everyone knows you’re much too good a player to drop an entire deck on the floor by accident. After you called for a new deck and began to win, people started wondering at Edgeworth’s incredible luck in the past. He’s finding it harder and harder to get into a game these days. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some talk of kicking him out of his clubs soon.”

  “Interesting.” Lucas nodded briefly at the two young men. “If you will excuse me, I must be going.”

  A moment later Lucas walked down the front steps of the club and hailed the nearest carriage. Inside, he sprawled back against the seat and exhaled deeply. He needed to think.

  Idly he rubbed his jaw and stared out into the night. This game he was playing with Victoria was getting increasingly risky. Aside from the very real physical dangers of their midnight adventures, there was now a genuine risk to her reputation. Killing Edgeworth in a duel would not be enough to silence the gossip, once it had started.

  He could not allow Victoria to get hurt, Lucas told himself grimly. The thing had reached a very serious stage. They were courting an increasing risk of discovery with every midnight outing, and every time they were seen together at parties or in the park, tongues wagged.

  Lucas knew Victoria well enough now to realize that even if he refused to escort her on any more midnight adventures, she would probably find some way of going about on her own. She had grown extremely confident in her flimsy masculine disguise.

  There was another possibility, too, Lucas reflected. If he stopped providing escort, she might very well find another man who would. And that was the most intolerable thought.

  Lucas absently massaged his leg while he examined his own logic. It was clear that the dangerous courtship had to end and soon. The only solution was to marry Victoria as quickly as possible.

  His nerves would not tolerate too much more of this wild, reckless, midnight wooing.

  Two days later Lucas folded his arms across his chest and sent an amused scowl at Victoria, who was shifting restlessly again in the neighboring seat. She pretended not to notice his admonishing look as she readjusted her skirts.

  Next to Victoria sat Cleo Nettleship, paying rapt attention to the speaker, a certain Sir Elihu Winthrop, who was delivering a stimulating lecture entitled “An Enumeration of the Principles of the Cultivation of Buckwheat.”

  Lucas, at least, was finding the subject stimulating
. He was already making plans to put some of Stonevale’s fields into buckwheat. The stuff made excellent fodder for cattle and sheep and, according to Winthrop, was frequently consumed by humans over on the continent. Of course, everyone knew that people on the continent would eat virtually anything. Still, there were periodic shortages of wheat throughout England and buckwheat might provide a good emergency grain for his people.

  Victoria began to tap her foot impatiently. Lucas knew he should probably not be too hard on her. She obviously had other things on her mind this afternoon and he was quite certain he knew what was making her so fidgety.

  Lucas hid a quick smile of satisfaction. He had absolutely no intention of making it easy on the lady. Now that he had her hooked, she was going to have to work a little more at getting herself landed.

  For a moment he allowed himself a few glittering memories of her sweet passion and then, when he realized what it was doing to the region of his groin, he gave his full attention back to the speaker. Winthrop was now deep into a discussion of various methods of manuring buckwheat.

  “Most educational,” Lady Nettleship declared at the end of the lecture. “Although I confess I have a much stronger interest in lectures on exotic plants. Still, one should certainly be aware of the newest techniques employed in domestic agriculture. Did you enjoy it, Lucas?”

  “Very much. Thank you again for letting me know the lecture was going to be held today.”

  “Anytime, anytime. Are you ready to leave, Victoria?”

  “Yes, Aunt Cleo. Quite ready.” Victoria was on her feet, collecting her bonnet and reticule.

  “Well, we mustn’t rush out of here. I see one or two people I should speak to first.” Cleo glanced around the room with enthusiasm. “I will be right back.”

  Victoria shot Lucas a meaningful look from beneath her lashes as they started toward the doors of the lecture hall. He looked down at her, enjoying the sight of her in a charming little yellow spencer jacket worn over a white muslin walking dress. She looked very lovely, he thought with a sense of possessive pride. He ushered her politely toward the exit, nodding at several of the society’s members with whom he was becoming friends.

  The departure from the hall took some time as several people stopped to talk. Lucas could feel Victoria simmering with impatience beside him.

  “Is something wrong?” he finally inquired quite casually as they stood in the entryway waiting for Lady Nettleship.

  “No, but Lucas, I must talk to you.”

  “Then something is wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. I simply wish to speak to you in private and I have not had an opportunity to do so since the night we—” She broke off, turning pink. Then she gamely cleared her throat and finished the sentence, “Since the night we went to the Green Pig.”

  “Speaking of which, I ran into Ferdie Merivale the other evening at my club. You will be happy to know he was not nearly as annoyed with me as I had expected. Even thanked me for rescuing him. It seems he’s come to his senses and feels he had a rather close call.”

  Victoria’s eyes brightened for a moment. “I’m so glad. I have always liked Ferdie and his sister.”

  “Too bad I cannot tell him he owes the lesson to you, not me. I’d have left him to his fate, I’m afraid.”

  “Only because you were so concerned with protecting me,” Victoria said with a touching loyalty. “Otherwise, I am certain you would have done something on your own for the boy. And you were very helpful with little Molly, too.”

  Lucas smiled wryly. “Will you be at the Foxtons’ tonight?”

  “Yes, but you know how difficult it is to find any privacy at a crush like that. Lucas, why do you not ride in the park tomorrow afternoon? I shall arrange to be there, also.”

  “As much as I would wish to do so, I’m afraid I have another engagement.”

  Victoria’s face fell. “You do? Are you very sure you cannot make it? Even for a few minutes around five?”

  He took pity on her. The poor woman was obviously so far out of her depth now that she could not possibly swim to shore by herself. Lucas contemplated just how he would save her. “I dislike riding in the park in the afternoons, Vicky. Too crowded.”

  “Yes, I know, but I simply must speak to you. If you won’t join me in the park, you must come to the garden tonight. We can talk there.” Victoria lowered her voice. “This is very important, Lucas.”

  “I fear I had not planned on one of our little adventures tonight. These things do take planning, you know.”

  “Damn it, Lucas,” she hissed softly, “I am not planning an adventure. But I do want to see you. I would greatly appreciate it if you could fit me into your busy schedule.”

  Lucas looked at her in mild surprise. “You sound upset, Miss Huntington.”

  Victoria fidgeted. “I am upset, Lord Stonevale. You are being exceedingly difficult.”

  “I am only thinking of your reputation, Victoria. We must be very, very careful these days,” Lucas warned, glancing about to prove his point.

  “Hang my reputation. I must talk to you.”

  He was startled and rather warmed by her insistence. She was obviously at the end of her tether. Lord knew he was more than ready for the next phase of this business, himself. It was time to end her frustration and his own.

  “Very well,” Lucas said, as if considering the matter carefully, “I will check my engagement book and see if I can spare a few minutes with you in your garden later this evening around midnight. Will that suffice?”

  “You are far too kind, my lord.”

  He winced as the knife edge of her tongue took a slice out of his hide. “Not at all.”

  “I begin to believe you are toying with me, Lucas.”

  His brows rose. He must never forget the woman was extremely astute. “I will do my best to be in your garden tonight at the usual time. Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I see Tottingham over in the corner. He promised to loan me his copy of White’s Natural History and Antiquities of Seiborne. I have been wanting to read it since he mentioned it to me.”

  “You need not bother Tottingham with your request, my lord,” Victoria said icily. “If you manage to keep your appointment with me tonight, I will allow you to borrow my copy.”

  He grinned. “Victoria, my sweet, are you by any chance trying to bribe me?”

  She turned an even brighter shade of pink and whirled around to go in search of her aunt.

  8

  Lucas saw her waiting for him in the shadows of a tree as he came over the garden wall. She was an elegant ghost hooded and cloaked in a maroon velvet cape lined with yellow satin. The same cape she had worn earlier that evening to the Foxtons’ ball.

  He eased himself carefully to the ground, catching his weight on his right foot and using his left primarily for balance. But even taking care, the short drop sent a sharp twinge through his bad leg. He had no business climbing garden walls.

  Lucas straightened, idly massaging the old wound, and wondered how he had come to find himself dancing on the end of Victoria’s string for so long. He had let the lady run him in circles.

  It was high time to take her to bed and make her his own. He would have much preferred to marry her first, but barring that possibility, he would take what he could get. Just the thought of being able to spend a comfortable night in a bed with Victoria instead of racketing around in hired carriages and flirting with disaster was enough to make his leg feel better and assured himself that bed was bound to lead to marriage.

  “Lucas?” Her voice was the softest of whispers as she came forward through the damp grass. She lifted her cloaked face and looked up at him with a sweet, vulnerable expression that wrenched his heart.

  He groaned and thrust his hands under the hood to frame her face. Without a word he lowered his head to drink hungrily of her mouth. When he finally released her, his whole body was tight with desire.

  “Damn, but it was hard to watch you dance with one man after another tonig
ht at the Foxtons’,” he muttered against her throat.

  “Lucas, please, you must not kiss me like that tonight. There is no time. My aunt will be home shortly. I told her I had the headache when I left the Foxtons. She will probably go straight to my room to check on me when she comes home.”

  “What is it that was so important we are once again risking your reputation, Vicky?”

  She clutched the velvet cloak more tightly around her, meeting his eyes bravely in the flickering moonlight. “I thought this would be easy to say, but I am discovering it is not easy at all.”

  He wanted to fold her close against his chest and assure her she did not have to say anything, but he resisted the temptation. She must take this step herself. Strategy, he reminded himself bleakly.

  Strategy and a desperate wish not to be blamed later for having seduced her. Far better for both of them that she engineer her own fall into bed with him.

  “I am listening, my sweet.”

  She lifted her chin determinedly. “I have done a great deal of thinking lately, my lord.”

  “Not always a good thing. I have found that sometimes too much thinking can disturb one’s peace of mind.”

  “Well, mine is already disturbed.” She stepped away from him and turned to pace back and forth in the wet grass. She seemed unaware of the way the toes of her satin evening slippers were growing damp. “I have gone through this problem many times in my own mind. For reasons I am certain you will understand, it is a subject that is almost impossible to discuss openly with anyone else, even my aunt.”

  “I understand,” he said gravely. “There are some things we cannot discuss, even with those who are close to us.”

  “Yes, precisely.” She turned and paced in the opposite direction. “I believe I have told you that I do not wish to marry.”

  “On several occasions.”

  “Lately I have discovered, however, that I am not entirely opposed to a … a romantic liaison with a man.”