A Reckless Wager by Christine Donovan
Chapter Two
“Aunt Clara,” moaned Lady Georgiana Knightly, all of one and twenty years, “must we attend Almack’s again?”
Lady Clara North, the childless widow of the Marquis of Adderley, frowned at her niece. “Yes. I promised my brother—your father—I would have you engaged to a fine upstanding gentleman of the aristocracy by Season’s end. This is the final night at Almack’s before the ton disperses to the country for the summer months.”
“Oh, goody!” Georgiana smiled. Hunting season. “I do love this time of year. Is Father planning on having his usual hunting party in Northumberland? It’s such a waste that he only visits the lovely estate for such entertainment. Last year he refused to allow me to join the hunt. This year, I won’t take no for an answer even if I have to dress up as a man and hide my identity.”
“You will do no such thing,” Aunt Clara chided. “There has been a change of venue. We are going to Knightly Manor just outside of Bath. Your father is conducting his hunting party there.”
“But why? There is no grouse in Bath.”
“He is having them brought in. Besides, there will be other entertainment as well. Instead of his usual gentlemen, I convinced him to invite an equal number of ladies and gentlemen. Can hardly have any dancing at night and play charades without mixed company.”
“Bath? Why Bath? Father never goes there.”
“Because Bath is the place to be seen. How are we to find you a suitable husband if you spend the off-season in the wilds of Northumberland? The invitations have gone out, and plans have been made. There are many other invites I have excepted as well. We will have the loveliest of times in Bath.”
“Aunt Clara?” Georgiana took a shallow breath and ignored her disappointment about the change in plans. “Can you please let my maid loosen the corset strings? How am I supposed to sit and dance without passing out from lack of air? And this dress. I’m tired of this particular shade of pale purple.” Her evening gown was the height of fashion. The palest of purples, nearly white, it had a scooped neckline and short, puffy sleeves trimmed with white lace. Lace ribbon adorned her bodice. The hem of the satin skirt reached the floor, and two rows of white lace trimmed the hem. She admitted it was a pretty gown, and would be most comfortable without the corset.
“Your papa did you a disservice by keeping you in the country and letting you run wild in muslin frocks and boots. And,” Lady North dramatically placed her hand upon her forehead and sighed, “Trousers. What was my brother thinking when he let you ride and hunt astride in trousers and hessians like a man? Thinking about the scandalous vision has me faint.”
Georgiana covered her mouth so as not to upset her aunt even more with her smile. “At least Papa hired me a dancing master and had the local vicar’s wife teach me the pianoforte and needlepoint. He wasn’t completely derelict in his duties.”
A moan escaped her aunt. “I’ve yet to witness your dancing, as your card has remained empty of any names each night. Perhaps tonight a miracle will happen.”
“Not likely,” Georgiana whispered into her hand. Too bad they were traveling to Bath. She’d been looking forward to some time off from the nightly balls, soirees, musicals, and the theater. Pretending to enjoy oneself and smile all the time was exhausting.
Almack’s, Georgiana noticed when they arrived, was bustling with young debutants and their chaperones. The old patronesses flitted about, greeting their guests. The gentlemen were few. Most present were on the more senior side, widowed and looking for young brides to care for their children; or never married, hoping for the elusive male heir. The young gentlemen already in attendance were either second or third sons, or held titles in need of an influx of dowry money. None of them appealed to her. Neither were they interested in her.
Not truthful. There was one who did… interest her, that is. She had hoped he would be in attendance this evening. She’d yet to set eyes on him within the crush of bodies. Oh, she knew he would never be attracted to someone like her. He could have his pick of any of the young ladies present, and their papas would approve wholeheartedly.
He was beyond handsome, wealthy, and not thirty yet, so he wasn’t in dire need of marriage and an heir. He was polite to the matchmaking mamas and their daughters while managing to escape their attentions unscathed. He had kind brown eyes, similar to his hair color. He’d become a viscount last year after the sudden death of his father. Well-liked by his peers and considered a most affable fellow. At least that’s what she’d heard and observed. She’d never actually been introduced to the viscount. Had only been watching him from afar. It saddened her to know he didn’t even know she existed. Not saddened exactly, but more like pained her heart.
As she sat in a chair next to her aunt on the fringes of the dancefloor, with the elderly matrons and the wallflowers, all air escaped her lungs as her eyes found his in the crush. He looked right at her, but she wasn’t fooled. They hadn’t been formally introduced. He couldn’t possibly know who she was.
Phillip Blackstone, Viscount Blackstone, arrived alone; although he was meeting two of his friends, who appeared nowhere in sight. It wouldn’t be the first time Mr. Percy Bedford and the Earl of Hartley skipped Almack’s and went to Brooks, their club of choice. They must be having a good laugh at his expense and enjoying their spirits. Almack’s served nothing but watered-down punch. Nothing to dull your wits, which one needed to survive the swarm of mamas pawning off their daughters. It was the way of the ton. Nothing ever changed.
His gaze roamed once more around the room, looking for his friends before he made his leave. His eyes landed upon the Earl of Southport’s daughter. He hadn’t a clue why she possessed the unfortunate title of a wallflower, as she was quite fetching. He’d yet to make her acquaintance. Lady North wasn’t doing her best to find the young woman a suitable match. Oh, he’d heard the rumors about Lady Georgiana, how she was brought up by her father and left to run wild in the countryside. Didn’t sound half bad to him. Perhaps he’d beg an introduction. Just as he stepped forward, he heard the voice of a busybody and inwardly cringed.
“Viscount Blackstone,” said Lady Pandora Osborne. “So nice to see you attending Almack’s this evening. How is your mother?”
“Mother is well, thank you. She decided to forgo London this Season and stay in the country.” He’d heard rumors about Lady Osborne and her cousin, Lady Sewell, and some ridiculous bet about matchmaking and a diamond tiara. All the eligible gentlemen laughed it off, but Phillip knew of two men who procured special licenses and hastily wed after being sought out by the lady before him. Two men whom he knew had no intentions of marrying so soon. Love. They both professed to find true love. True love? Did it even exist?
“Tell me, Blackstone, have you been introduced to the lovely Lady Georgiana Knightly?” Before he could answer, she wrapped her bony hand around his arm and led him around the crimson-roped perimeter of the dancefloor, straight towards the lady in question. “Have you received your invitation to her father’s hunting party in Bath the week of August 14th? I was thrilled to receive one, and so was my cousin. I hear it’s the place to be. Anyone who is anyone is attending.”
Phillip cleared his throat and replied, “Yes, but I haven’t sent my reply. In August, I usually go to the Marquis of Clairmont’s hunting lodge in Phoines.”
“You can do both. This one is only for a sennight. It will hardly interfere with your other plans.
“I will consider it.” He shivered. “I usually stay far away from Bath. I need to distance myself from the marriage-minded mamas. They have been exceptionally forward of late.”
Laughter sprang from Lady Osborne’s narrow lips. “Are you trying to tell me you have no interest in getting married?”
His hands itched to pull at his impeccably tied cravat. “Not for several years yet.” His mother, however, reminded him almost daily of his duty to produce an heir and a spare. At eight and twenty, he wasn’t ready. Possibly at thirty? Perhaps his mother should spend her time preparing for his sister’s first Season next year. Didn’t it take that long to prepare? How had they arrived before Lady Georgiana without his notice?
“Lady North,” Lady Osborne said in an overly excited voice. “Viscount Blackstone has informed me he has not been formally introduced to Lady Georgiana. May I do the honors?”
“Why yes,” Lady North said, with a smile and something else in her eyes.
Lady Georgiana stood, appearing nervous. She clutched her fan in her hands.
“Lady Georgiana, I present Viscount Blackstone. Viscount Blackstone, Lady Georgiana Knightly.”
Phillip took Lady Georgiana’s hand in his and bowed. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
She snatched her hand from his rather quickly and curtsied briefly. Anyone not paying attention would hardly notice she performed one at all. Perhaps she had something wrong with her back and couldn’t bend.
“I hear the lemonade and cake this evening is excellent,” Lady Osborne said, holding her silver monocle to her eye.
Phillip could take the hint. “Lady Georgiana, may I escort you to the supper-room for refreshments?” He held out his arm for her to take.
Her hand rested upon his forearm. “Yes. Thank you.”
They walked silently to one of the rooms set up with refreshments. He knew better, no matter what Lady Osborne said about exceptional cake and lemonade. The cake would be dry as dirt and the lemonade watered down. Which made him wonder why Lady Osborne insisted on introducing him to the lady on his arm. Had she set her sights on Lady Georgiana and himself as her next match? Nearly laughing out loud, he coughed into his free hand to hide the outburst. He and Georgiana? Yes, she was beautiful in the way light-haired ladies could never be. If he searched his memory, all he’d ever been attracted to were blondes. He’d noticed her light green eyes. A most unusual color, but charming nonetheless. Her nose was small, straight, and just a little upturned at the end. Her lips were neither too thin nor too thick. Nothing of her features stood out as striking, but she was beautiful. The complete picture of her was stunning. She was of average height, her weight on the thin side, but with ample bosom and curvy hips. Bloody hell, if he didn’t concentrate on something besides the beauty on his arm people would notice the bulge in his tightly fitted breeches.
“May I pour for you?” he asked, as he noticed Lady Georgiana looking almost bored.
“Why, yes. Please.” She removed her hand from his arm, and he missed the contact…the heat. Strange.
Handing her the glass of lemonade, he proceeded to pour himself one. At a time like this he needed something more potent, but alas, not to be had at Almack’s. He’d have to make do with… Good Lord, he almost spit it out. How could anyone ruin lemonade? Perhaps the tea was better. He helped himself to a glass of tea, but it was worse—best stick to drinking nothing. And no eating the cake. It looked dry enough to choke someone to death. He didn’t relish his demise yet. Nor Lady Georgiana’s. Where had that thought come from?
He’d swear the lemonade was spiked with spirits because his head tingled, and his heart raced as if he had just ridden his horse at break-neck speed recklessly through the countryside.
“Lady Georgiana, may I escort you back to your aunt? I have another engagement which I must attend.” It bothered him more than it should that she was so difficult to decipher. She appeared almost aloof and not interested. He glanced into her inquisitive eyes and got a peek into her curious soul. So she was not unaffected, as neither was he—interesting tidbit to end the evening on.
“Good evening, Lady Georgiana.” Phillip bowed, turned, and walked away, damning his accelerated heart and pulse. No matter what his mother, sister, or Lady Osborne thought, he was not looking for a wife.
Phillip made his way to Brook’s and found his two friends entertaining themselves with drinks and chess. “Where were you?” he groused as he sat in a comfortable chair near the table housing the chessboard and his two traitorous so-called friends.
“You didn’t think we would attend again so soon, did you? We, unlike you, are not looking to be leg-shackled,” replied Percy Bedford. “I do not have a title that needs to be forwarded to an heir.”
Percy was right. He didn’t possess a title, but he was a much-sought-after, wealthy aristocrat. “What about you, Hartley? You must produce an heir as the first-born son.”
Both men looked at each other, then him, and smirked. “Not yet, my friend. The ‘Earl’ is just a courtesy title, as you very well know. Until my healthy, vibrant father passes and turns the dukedom over to me, I will sample the wares. So to speak.”
“Speaking of wares, how is your mistress?” Phillip asked as he took a sip of whiskey the servant handed him moments ago. And damn fine whiskey it was.
“Funny. She is no longer my mistress, and you know it. I don’t appreciate the jab.” He moved his queen forward. “Checkmate. That’ll be five pounds. Care to double or nothing?”
Percy moved his chair back from the table and stood. “No. Unlike you, my mistress awaits my visit with open arms and…” He down his glass. “Goodnight.”
“Rather rude, don’t you think?” Hartley waved the servant over and had his glass refilled. “Anything interesting happen at Almack’s?”
Anything interesting? Phillip mused. “I’ve decided to accept the Earl of Southport’s invitation to spend a week in Bath hunting. I’ll meet you at the duke’s hunting lodge after.”
“What changed your mind?”
Yes, what changed his mind? Lady Georgiana’s green eyes appeared in his vision. “Nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.”
His friend chuckled. “I don’t believe you. Percy and I were just discussing Southport’s house party and decided to accept his invitation as well. We don’t want to miss a moment of seeing you trip up around Lady Georgiana Knightly.”
Blackstone’s insides churned. “I only met the girl tonight, and you weren’t even there.”
Hartley chuckled. “The rumors are spreading that you and Lady Georgiana are the latest matchmaking project of Lady Osborne. A betting book has started this very evening. People are betting on when, not if, you two will wed.”
A betting book? It was not the first time Phillip’s name was in the betting books, but for marriage? “I look forward to spending the week proving you and everyone else rash enough to bet on me wrong.”