Chapter Seven

September 29, 1812

Dodo stifled a laugh. It was something she was having to get very good at, spending all this time with George.

With Lord Lindow . Bother. She really would have to watch that.

The thing was, the man gave her so many causes for laughing, but in this particular scenario, she definitely did not wish him to spot the mistake he was making.

And—

Had made.

"You know, I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," said George with a self-satisfied grin, leaning back in his chair and peering at her over his cards. "Don't you think?"

Dodo did not even need to glance at the cards on the table. She had already memorized them, and those in her hand, and calculated the likelihood of what George was clutching. Two kings, almost certainly, by that gratified grin. Perhaps a jack of the same suit?

Whatever it was, it couldn't beat what she held. And he would know that—if he had bothered to consider just how many hearts were on the table.

That's the trouble with men , Dodo thought languidly as she picked up her final card and looked at it with a calm, unmoving expression. They were so swift to believe they had understood the full lie of the land, without any actual proof they had done so. Three lessons, and the man believed he could beat her at cards.

Ridiculous .

Holding the full spread of her cards in her right hand, Dodo reached out to pick up her glass of lemonade with the other. The sparkling sourness with a hint of sweet was remarkably refreshing on this cold, gray day.

Autumn was coming in. And that meant winter. And that meant greater bills, and doctor's costs, and she had already spent money on new gloves, thinking she'd call too much attention to herself if she kept not wearing them, at least outside of these lessons, as she was not eager to ruin another pair—

"Are you going to bet anything?" came George's questioning voice.

Dodo kept her expression steady as she placed the almost-empty lemonade glass onto the card table. "Do you think I should?"

"You'd have to be prepared to lose it," the Earl of Lindow said proudly.

Once again, Dodo stifled a laugh. She really was getting better at it. With every mistake her opponent made, she was having to.

The smoking room had a fire lit for the first time, the flames throwing shimmering light over the gold-gilt frames that lined the place. It made the room feel… not cozy—it was far too large for that. Far larger than the drawing room at home, Dodo mused as she threw down another shilling.

She could have bet higher, of course. As she was guaranteed to win, it would have been pleasant to goad the confident George out of a full crown. But she couldn't push her luck. He would certainly suspect—

"I raise you a crown!" said George, a lock of hair falling over his eyes in his eagerness to lean forward and throw down the coin.

Dodo kept her face still. Well, it wasn't as though the man didn't have enough crowns, was it? The Chances were, she had discovered by careful inquiries about Johnson's Buildings, one of the richest families in England, all four of them, and all four with a title of his own in a most unusual way of a family sharing its inheritance. Though confusingly, some people seemed to be under the impression that one brother was perhaps not of the noblest of origins. Most odd.

"I will see that crown," she said quietly, placing out the crown on the table.

The little pile of silver and a few coppers looked remarkably inviting. The instinct to lean over and help herself, as she knew she would be doing in just a few moments, was strong. Dodo managed to hold herself back. There was still a chance she could earn a few more pennies from the man.

And teach him. Obviously. What better lesson was there than to lose?

"Anything else?" Dodo asked innocently.

Or perhaps not innocently enough. George's face stiffened, and he glanced hurriedly at the cards in his hand and the cards on the table, his smug expression gone.

"Oh, good heavens," he said heavily. "I've lost, haven't I?"

"I don't know what you—"

"You know precisely what I mean, Dodo," George said with an accusing look accompanied by a smile. "You've won."

Dodo's pulse skipped a beat.

Which was ridiculous. There was no reason it should do such a thing each and every time the man said her name. It was just a pet name, after all. Technically, there was no reason why anyone she considered an intimate acquaintance couldn't use it.

Except they didn't. Just her parents. To hear him use it was to feel most strange.

It was impossible not to laugh as George stared crestfallen at the card table, utterly convinced she had somehow beaten him.

She had, but he wasn't to know that.

"What makes you think that I have won?" she asked as sweetly as she could manage.

"You've asked me to bet more money," George said darkly. "That is never a good sign, but with all the cards dealt, there can only be one reason. You've got a straight."

Dodo inclined her head graciously and placed down her cards, face up, on the table. A straight, ace high.

George groaned, his handsome features in no way impeded by the twist in his countenance. "Good Lord, what?"

"You should have paid closer attention to the cards on the table," Dodo said severely, trying not to hasten in pulling the coins toward her but very conscious they belonged in her reticule, not on the table between them. "Three hearts, a ten, and a queen? You should have expected—"

"How could I have?" There could have been a petulance in his voice, but there wasn't. George was laughing, his shoulders loose and his eyes bright as he looked at her.

Dodo swallowed. And he did do a great amount of looking at her, didn't he?

Which was to be expected. She was teaching him, she attempted to remind herself. There was no point in continuing the lessons if the man refused to look at her.

But there was looking and… and looking . She couldn't distinguish the difference with words; it was too difficult. But there was most definitely a way of looking at a lady, and a way of undressing said lady with one's eyes, and George Chance, Earl of Lindow, was often doing the latter.

Try as she might, she could not help but look into those sky-blue passionate eyes. Eyes that seemed to bear down into her very soul. Eyes that said just as much as his mouth could: words like desire and sensual and—

Dodo gasped.

Her fingers, pulling her winnings together, had brushed past the hands of another. George.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" she managed to say.

"I think it's unfair that you won, and with superior skill to boot," teased George, his eyes now dancing with mischief. "I think I'll take back that crown, and—"

"You'll do absolutely nothing of the sort," Dodo said firmly, attempting to extricate her fingers from his own.

The trouble was, the more she struggled to release them, the more entangled their fingers somehow became. There was no logic to it, nor to the lurching in her stomach as George's fingers managed to curl around her own.

"Dodo—"

Dodo pulled her hands away from the table, abandoning the coins. Her lungs was ragged and she was certain her cheeks were pink. They were certainly burning.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. What had she said, when they'd made their agreement?

"And no kissing."

"No promises."

She had presumed he'd been jesting. The man was a tease of the highest order—she did not need to know anything from the ton 's gossip to be certain of that. This was a man who had undoubtedly bedded more than his fair share of women, and she was certainly not going to be added to that list.

Not that she was in a position to protest too much about her reputation, considering her trip, unaccompanied, to Bath.

The point was— the point is , Dodo thought as she caught his gaze and saw fire in his eyes, that it is not supposed to be like this . This was supposed to be a formal teaching experience, and a way for her to earn coin.

"Remove your hands from my winnings," Dodo said sharply, using the severest tone she could.

George did not move an inch. "I don't appreciate being ordered about, Dodo."

"Then learn to lose with grace," she shot back.

A flicker of joy curled around her to see the irritation in him. She shouldn't have felt so satisfied at seeing that, should she have? No, that was most irregular.

Still. It hadn't stopped her from feeling it.

And then George removed his hands from the coins, leaned back in his chair, and sighed heavily. His eyes did not leave her as Dodo scraped the last of the coins into her reticule, which was now a pleasing weight.

"You're a very unusual woman."

Try as she might, Dodo could not prevent her cheeks from burning. She attempted some slow, calming breaths. When she lifted her head to meet George's expression, she could see that it had made little to no difference.

"No, I'm not," she said quietly. She found she could not give in to his assertion, even if she was aware of no other unwed lady of her class who would travel to Bath alone to gamble. "Now, another game? We could try—"

"Yes, you are unusual. You are unusual if I say you are," said the Earl of Lindow. There was no malice in his voice, no censure, but a finality that made it clear that now he had come to an opinion, that was the truth. "You're clever."

Dodo snorted as she picked up the cards and started to shuffle them. "What, you don't think women are clever?"

It was not the most impressive retort, but she could think of nothing else to counter with. That was one of the most difficult things about teaching this man to play cards—properly play cards. He simply… Well.

He is very handsome.

Dodo swallowed, the cards almost spilling from her hands. Fine, he was handsome. She had attempted to deny it for days, but there was no getting around it. The man was so handsome, he was actually delectable. And when he leaned back like that, all broad shoulders and nonchalant gaze, the sheer comfort he obviously felt within his body…

Clearing her throat, Dodo told herself she had absolutely no interest in earls, handsome or otherwise. That was not why she had come to Bath. That was not—

"Women? Clever?" George sounded confused. "You know, I have never thought about it. I certainly haven't encountered any. Not… Not like you."

It was the hesitation that did it. Dodo was fairly certain she could keep her head around a man like the Earl of Lindow, even if he was impossibly charming and irritatingly handsome.

But that hesitation, that flicker of certainty in his voice, the way it thrilled her without him seeming to even know…

It's a good thing I have absolutely no intention of being caught in this man's charm , Dodo thought sharply.

"They've probably all been keeping their cleverness a secret," Dodo said airily aloud, dealing out another hand of poker. "It is so much easier to get around men that way, you know."

George stared blankly, then chuckled. "Goodness, I suppose that's true. Lord, I'd hate to think I've been taken in that many times, but—"

"I wouldn't be surprised," she said, hoping she could navigate the conversation back onto neutral ground. "Now, consider in this hand—"

"Does that mean you're keeping your greater heights of intellect from me?" asked George quietly, leaning forward and reaching out.

For a moment, Dodo thought he was reaching out for her hand. Which would have been preposterous—what on earth would he wish to do something like that for?

At the same time, she heartily wished he would. His fingers against hers had felt… felt good.

So just as she was about to accept that George could, perhaps, take her hand—

He picked up his cards. "You must be."

Dodo blinked. "Wh-What?"

"Keeping your intellect from me—you keep winning. There can be no other explanation," George said lightly. "I mean, it's not as though this is your source of income, is it? A lady like you."

A lady like her.

She had been careful, throughout the lessons she had given previously, to keep as much about herself to herself as she could. Though she had faith thus far in his ability to quieten the rumors about the two of them, since he wanted these lessons to continue, when it came down to it, this was not a man to be trusted. She could see it in the casual way he lost money, the way he spoke about his friends, the way he bet on horses. That reminded her, she needed to talk to Mr. Gillingham about the next race.

George was not a serious man. Not a man who could be burdened with serious troubles.

So even if she had been desperate to tell someone, anyone, George Chance was not the one.

Not the one to tell , Dodo corrected herself hastily. Right .

"Everyone has a hobby," she said, ignoring the cards on the table. "I mean, you do, and you're an earl."

George raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I do?"

Dodo's stomach most disobligingly decided in that moment to lurch. Most unfair. "You own race horses."

She had not intended her words to be wild and radical, but one would not have known that from the reaction that George gave.

His snort echoed around the smoking room, and he threw down his cards in seeming disgust—yet his eyes danced with delight.

"My dear Dodo, horses are not a hobby. They are a vocation!" And just like that, all the false outrage, all the teasing—it all faded away. George was eager now, earnest, leaning forward with excitement, not in an attempt to woo her.

Not , Dodo thought hastily, that he has been doing that in the first place. Obviously. Kissing is not the same as wooing. Wooing is not the same as courting. Courting is not an offer of—

"—Scandal of Lancelot will certainly make a move in the next race, I am sure," George was saying. "I thought it would be Honor of Guinevere who would make the difference, but as it turns out… even the newspapers have guessed wrong. I can't wait for the blaggard who always bets against me to get that wrong!"

Horses in Croscombe, where she had grown up, were for working, not for running around in circles. A horse had to earn its keep, and that meant farm work or carriage work. It was as simple as that.

But George… his passion, it was exuberant, untamed, like himself. It poured from him like froth upon sea waves trickling up the shore.

"I love it," he said simply. "And of course, it makes the gambling all the sweeter when I win."

Dodo smiled, despite herself. "It sounds as though you have a true passion."

"I suppose I do," George said, suddenly awkward, as though realizing he had been ardent. "I suppose everyone has something like that. A hobby, as you said. A passion. And yours is?"

The serious look he gave her, looking her straight in the eye with a slight lift of his chin, was…

She could not understand it. This rake, this rogue—she had heard all the rumors by now. Just the simple mention of the Earl of Lindow was enough for people to pour out the gossip they had heard. The ladies he'd bedded. The duels he'd fought. The money he'd lost.

And yet …

The man of whom Society spoke did not match this sometimes eager, sometimes serious man. A man who appeared to have nothing better to do than learn cards from a penniless woman.

"Your passion, Dodo?" George repeated.

Heat flickered up and across the base of her throat, and no matter what she attempted to force it away, there was nothing she could do.

My passion? Such a word, one which should not have been shared between a gentleman and a lady. It was most improper. Most … Most dangerous .

Dangerous? Now where had that thought come from?

"I have always found it easier to keep my love of numbers hidden," Dodo said quietly. "Now, the cards. It's your turn to—"

"You truly do love them, don't you?" George spoke not with condemnation, but with curiosity. "Though there are many who enjoy them, you—you take a great deal of pleasure from them, don't you? And… And comfort."

Dodo dropped her hand face-down onto the table and leaned back in her chair for the first time since they had sat down.

Because it was disorienting, to be so swiftly understood. How did he do it? The earl gave the impression of being… Well, not self-centered, but certainly self-focused. A man who was interested in others merely because of what they could do for him.

But the way he spoke, with such perception. It should not have been allowed.

"Dodo?" George said gently.

Dodo swallowed. But then, there could be no harm in sharing a little of what she appreciated from numbers, could there? It was just numbers. Just her thoughts.

"I like numbers," she began stiffly. Her eyes flickered to him, but quite different to what she had expected, George did not speak. Instead, he nodded, spurring her on. "I… They are powerful. Anything can be calculated with them, anything at all. They explain the universe in a way that words just… just can't."

She sounded like a fool. Dodo knew she always sounded like a fool whenever she started to talk about numbers. It was why she did it so rarely.

But George was not laughing. His eyes had not glazed over, he was not nodding off to sleep…

He was waiting for her to continue.

Dodo shifted awkwardly in her seat. When did this room grow so hot?

"I mean, think about it—numbers are so dependable," she said softly. "The square root of sixty-four is always eight, when you treble four hundred it is always twelve hundred. The numbers, the patterns, they are always there. You can predict what they will do, manipulate them precisely however you want. They never change."

"‘Never change'?" George prompted.

Then the words Dodo had promised herself she would not say spilled from her lips. "They're never going to disappoint you."

The instant she'd ceased speaking, Dodo saw spots in her vision. What had possessed her to say such a thing? Why would she have allowed herself to be so vulnerable?

But before she could think, before her instincts could propel her up and toward the door, George said softly, "‘Disappoint'? Who has disappointed you, Dodo?"

Dodo hesitated. This had never been the plan. The plan had been to earn money teaching an earl who appeared to have coin to burn, and even win a few extra shillings off him. Not to start pouring out her heart to him.

Finally, her legs obeyed the frantic and silent begging of her mind.

Dodo shot up. "Is that the time? I should really be—"

"You don't have anywhere to go, Dodo, so don't pretend you do," said George quietly.

He had not risen to go after her, nor made a single movement to stop her from leaving the smoking room of Lindow House. But that did not matter. His words alone were sufficient to halt Dodo in her tracks.

Her whole body was trembling. Can he see it?

"Please, Dodo," he said softly.

There was something in his tone. A longing, a need, a desperation she had never heard in it before.

Well. Perhaps once. Just before he had kissed her…

Dodo took another step toward the door. "I…"

What could she say?

She liked him. He was a rascal, an earl without much of a conscience, a man who seemed to dictate the world around him to be precisely how he wanted it with little thought for others.

And he was also gentle, and kind, and in a strange way, honorable.

Dodo's pulse pattered painfully. She liked him far more than she should have. And she should not stay.

"No…" She cleared her throat, willed herself to speak. "No more personal questions. That's an order."

George's smile was wicked, causing something to rush up her spine. "You know, you are the only woman to even consider ordering an earl about."

A smile crept across Dodo's face, unbidden. "And will you obey?"

She had not intended her words to be so provocative. George groaned, covering his face for a moment with his hands. When he finally dropped them, there was a look in his eye that she could not discern—and did not spend too much time examining.

She might actually discover what he was thinking.

"Damnit, Dodo. Yes. Fine. No more personal questions—for now," George said bleakly. "Now come back here, woman, and teach me that trick again. You won't beat me for a third time in a row. Probably."