Ten

TEN

Halfway to the Templetons’ library

Jack threw back his head and laughed—deep, unfettered amusement at her silly, but likely genuine, threat.

What other female would say such a thing?

“You’ll have to win first, Aubrie.”

“I assure you, Jackson Matherfield. I shall.” Finding her rare confidence amusing and estimable, he almost hoped she would prevail.

Almost.

They finished the short trek to the library in silence.

In short order, Jack pulled two comfortably worn burgundy velvet library chairs trimmed in gold braid beside an octagonal marble-topped inlaid table. After lighting the tapers in a gilt brass three-branch candelabra from the low-burning hearth fire, Aubriella set it in the table’s middle.

Giving a satisfied nod and checking to ensure the door stood open, she slipped into one chair without waiting for him to pull it out. “Shall we begin?”

The ugly-as-sin chinoiserie mantel clock with a blue foo dog top, chimed quarter past eleven.

How had it become so late?

“Indeed. The hour grows advanced.” He pulled the ivory dice from his pocket and offered them to her. “Best two out of three?”

It seemed unfair only to give her a single chance when he was certain of the outcome.

“If you think you need that many,” she quipped with a mischievous smile.

Comfortable silence descended, punctuated by the clock tick-tocking on the carved mahogany mantel, the fire lazily crackling and hissing, and the dice clattering against the marble inlays.

Jack won the first game, but not without breaking a sweat. It had been a far closer match than he’d anticipated, as had the second in which Aubriella triumphed.

He’d underestimated her.

Her forehead furrowed in concentration as she rolled the dice between her hands.

“I choose seven as my main,” she said.

If she rolled a seven—a nicks—on her first toss this third game, it was over.

She won.

Jack would shed his clothing for her—God help them both. Not that the idea didn’t have merit, but the consequences didn’t bear contemplating. Unless he cried off, which was the sensible thing to do.

His honor prohibited him from keeping his word, and his deuced honor also forbade him to pose for her nearly unclothed. She’d backed him into a corner. No, his stupidity and cockiness had caused this conundrum.

Grinning, he shook his head. “Neither of us has a throw in on the first roll. The probability is quite low.”

“Yes, but a seven has a slightly greater chance.” Voices in the corridor made her glance toward the door. “How shall we explain playing in here, rather than the card room, should someone come upon us?”

“We can say you wanted to practice before joining a game in the card room.” She didn’t need practice, but Jack doubted anyone would question the fabrication.

“I suppose that suffices.” Filling her lungs with air, which caused her bosom to swell quite nicely, she closed her eyes and moved her mouth in silent prayer before kissing her fist.

“Please.”

“You seem quite desperate to see me unclothed.” Jack leaned back in his chair; one arm slung over the back. “I believe I should be scandalized.”

“Oh, pish posh.” She wrinkled her nose, causing the smattering of freckles to dance. “It takes much more than disrobing to shock you. Besides, any fit man would suffice.”

The voices grew louder.

A man and woman argued passionately, though they were still too far away for Aubriella to discern their words.

Jack jutted his chin toward the entrance. “I fear we are about to be interrupted.”

Lips pressed tight, Aubriella opened her hand, and the dice tumbled off her fingertips.

The first rolled to a stop.

A six.

She stood little chance of winning, but he still held his breath.

The second tumbled a little farther.

And a one.

Bloody hell.

She’d done it, by Jove.

He ought to be vexed.

Instead, Jack was pleased for her, even if he found himself in a deuced pickle.

“I won,” Aubriella breathed, half in awe and half in delight. She lifted her bright eyes to Jack’s. “ I won . You have to let me sketch you. And I want to do it while we’re here. It will be easier to go unnoticed.”

Bollocks.

He thought he’d have until they returned to London to devise a location or renege. He grunted. “I’ll have the why of that strange wager about Miss Willoughby one way or the other.”

“It’s nothing. I assure you.” She made a flapping motion with her hand as she collected the dice.

Her too-innocent demeanor didn’t fool him. Aubriella was an atrocious actress and a worse liar.

“It’s not nothing when the chit tried to force me to marry her,” he retorted with more heat than intended.

Aubriella’s expression grew shuttered, and if she’d slammed the doors and locked them, she couldn’t have been clearer. Their amiable interlude had ended, and she’d retreated to cool aloofness again.

“I saw you together last year, and from what I observed, you weren’t exactly impartial to her overtures.” Accusation and censure threaded her tone, now as frigid as the Arctic.

Jack racked his brain.

When could Aubriella have seen him?

That certainly explained her don’t-come-near-me-leper-attitude these past months.

Her color high, she slid a glance to the door. “I only interjected earlier because I dislike anyone being bullied or manipulated. Still, if you are responsible…”

“I am not responsible for Francine’s condition. In fact, I’ve avoided her like the plague after she practically accosted me in the conservatory during last year’s Christmastide house party.” He curled his lip in disgust. “Is that where you saw us?”

Jack couldn’t very well tell Aubriella he was a virgin. Not only did he doubt she’d believe him, it was wholly inappropriate.

Expression taut, Aubriella gave a tense dip of her chin. “I left at once, of course.”

“If you’d stayed, you would’ve seen me scold her for her forwardness and make it clear I had no interest in her and never would before?—”

Footsteps—rapid, angry tread fall—echoed outside the library door, and Jack had just swiveled to look over his shoulder when Roxina Danforth and Shelby Tellinger plowed in, one after the other.

“Elli?” Miss Danforth came up short, and Tellinger bumped into her, almost sending her to the floor. He grabbed her arm to steady her, but she jerked away as if he’d scalded her.

Her glare would’ve incinerated another man on the spot, but Tellinger merely returned her scowl and stepped around her.

Those two were constantly at odds.

What set them off this evening?

“Are we interrupting?” Tellinger could see blasted well that they were.

Nevertheless, Jack rose and pocketed the dice. “No, we’ve just finished. Miss Penford wanted a private hazard lesson before she undertook a game with others.”

“But, Elli is—” Miss Danforth clamped her mouth shut, giving her friend an I-don’t-know-what-is-going-but-I’m-keeping-my-mouth-closed look.

Jack applauded her loyalty.

Tellinger planted a hand on his hip, his impatience for Jack and Aubriella to leave palpable. “Ah, well then. I wish you luck, Miss Penford.”

“I can stay.” Aubriella touched Miss Danforth’s forearm. “If you wish.”

To her credit, though white lines bracketed her mouth, Miss Danforth didn’t drag her friend into the fray. “Not a bit of it, dearest. Go along. I simply need to disabuse Mr. Tellinger of a misconception.”

Tellinger snorted, barely suppressed ire radiating from him.

“I can stay as well.” Jack wasn’t about to leave a woman alone with a man as angry as Tellinger.

“Oh, for the love of God.” Tellinger stomped across the room to stand before the waning fire and stare into the coals. “I simply want to know where her profligate brother has skulked off to.”

As up to this moment, Tellinger had been Mitchel Danforth’s closest friend, his hostility toward Danforth came as quite a surprise.

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Matherfield. Aubriella.” The epitome of sereneness, Miss Danforth folded her hands across her abdomen, though she couldn’t quite control her timorous smile. “I only need a few moments with Mr. Tellinger. I promise you. I shall join you before I’m missed.”

“I’m not going to harm her,” Tellinger muttered as he faced them. “She’ll be along in five minutes. If not, feel free to return and call me to task.”

Aubriella nibbled her lower lip in indecision. “Are you quite sure, Zina?”

Pursing her lips and casting Tellinger an annoyed glance, Miss Danforth nodded.

As Jack followed Aubriella from the library, Tellinger demanded, “Where is he, Roxina? Where is Mitchel?”