Page 11 of The Lyon and His Promise
“Right,” Josephine murmured drawing out the word before she recalled what her friend had said earlier. “Since I’m not really knowledgeable these days on who’s who within Society, should I ask you exactly who is the Earl of Blackthorn?”
“Utterly divine, my dear, and someone I’ve had my eyes on for a while now.”
“I wasn’t aware you were looking for another lover, Cassie.” Josephine was surprised. From other things her friend had said, she’d thought that Cassandra wasn’t looking for a husband for herself after all.
Cassandra shook her head. “Not as a lover, Josie. I can’t return back to Society if I take a lover and then all my hard work to see we are once more acceptable will be for naught. Now let me see… I’m certain he’s here,” she commented as she again scanned the room. “Ah… there he is, standing at the bar with one of his friends who just happens to be your marquis.”
“He’s not my marquis.”
“If you say so, my dear.”
Josephine finally got the courage to once again look in the direction of Gyles. There were two men standing next to him so she wasn’t sure which one her friend was interested in. “Which one is he?”
“The one with the black hair who looks as if the very devil is upsetting him. I’ve heard he has a way with the ladies, if you take my meaning,” Cassandra answered looking as if she wanted the man in her bed with or without the arrangement of marriage.
“He looks like he’s in a foul mood. Why are you interested in someone who portrays such an unsettling disposition?” Josephine asked as she continued to watch the men.
“It’s all about perception. I suppose it keeps the riffraff away along with anyone he doesn’t wish to have a conversation with. Under that gruff exterior, I hear Lucius is a very upstanding gentleman. Besides, haven’t you heard that a rake makes the best husband?”
“Who is the other gentleman with them?” she asked instead of answering Cassandra’s question.
“That is Asher Tyler, Earl of Rowley. They attended Oxford with the Marquis of Saxton, Moriah’s husband. They’ve been friends ever since.”
They continued to sit there in silence but Josephine swore she could feel Gyles’s eyes on her the entire time she stayed on the balcony. After an hour had passed, a servant brought a note and handed the parchment to Josephine. She cracked the seal belonging to Mrs. Dove-Lyon and read her note.
“She’s made her selection for me,” Josephine said with a heavy heart as the unknown lay before her. “She will be sending a gown and mask to your townhouse, and I am to attend a masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens next week. She’ll send further instructions.”
“Then we, or more importantly you, no longer need to stay here on display and can leave if you’re ready to go,” Cassandra said noddingas she came to a stand, causing Josephine to do the same.
“Yes… there’s no point in lingering here anymore,” Josephine replied but before she left the balcony, she stole one more look at Gyles who smiled in her direction.
With a gentle nod of her head, she left the balcony, not allowing herself to glance back at the man who had always owned her heart. Her future was about to begin and there was no longer any point in looking at her past.
Chapter Nine
Gyles stared athis hand of cards… a very bad hand of cards. He was going to lose this round.How the devil did that happen?He lifted his head to stare up into the mask of the dealer, but the man showed nothing to indicate that he had rigged the game. Gyles knew better. He held nothing that would see him into the next round, not even a pair.
“My lord, would you like another card?” the dealer asked.
“Will another card make any sort of difference, Peaseblossom?” Gyles muttered in annoyance.
“Only you can say, sir.”
Gyles lifted one brow, silently questioning his sanity for sitting at a table in the first place. He had known better, but he’d thought one more game couldn’t hurt. His friends had encouraged him, reminding him that he had won all night. But those wins had been at the tables where only money was at stake. That was not the case at this table, and if he lost—whenhe lost—the forfeit could be anything that the mistress of the house demanded. His cockiness had gotten the better of him when he’d agreed to play. Gyles had fallen right into whatever trap the Widow of Whitehall had in store for him. He might as wellget it over with.
“I fold,” Gyles answered throwing his cards face down. He stood up and moved away from the table.
He had not gone far when Flute, one of the bouncers on the gambling floor, came to his side. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon would like to see you, my lord, in the garden,” he said with arms crossed over his chest as if he was making an attempt to intimidate Gyles. As if he could.
“Of course she would,” Gyles growled out.
Flute held out his arm pointing in the direction of the entrance to the garden area. “This way, my lord.”
“I’m perfectly aware of the location of the garden, Flute. No need to hover.”
“Just doing my job, sir.”
There was no point in arguing any further with the man as they made their way through the rest of the gambling room. Snug stood guard over the entrance to what awaited Gyles in the outdoor area ahead.
