Page 19 of Enticing Odds
She chuckled. He felt it reverberate throughout his body.
“How shall I put it? It’s not the kind of riding you’re thinking of, Doctor.”
Suddenly he imagined her in the nude, seated upon his reclined form, facing away from him. Her lovely back exposed,her thick, dark hair tucked demurely over one shoulder. The gooseflesh pricking her creamy skin as he ran one knuckle gently down the length of her spine, the fingers of his other hand digging into the flesh of her rear, coaxing her into a steady rhythm.
No, he chided himself. He clenched a fist, trying to banish such inappropriate thoughts to the recesses of his mind.Surely that is not what she means. She’s a bloody lady! Have sense, man.
“Ah… whatever it is, I’m glad to hear it,” he finally choked out. “Exercise is a vital component of a healthful life.”
And before Matthew could make even more of a cake of himself, he fled.
He could practically feel the heat of her gaze upon his back as he descended the stairs and crossed the ballroom. He needed to get ahold of himself, to feel in control once more. He avoided the stares of the dancers, the curious looks from the wallflowers. He knew Rickard was here, along with his wife, but now was not the time for more conversation, not when Matthew had acted such a fool.
He headed for the gaming parlor.
Hours later he felt a different man.
It had been weeks since he’d narrowly escaped from Charles Sharples and the Metropolitan Police with his winnings, most of which he’d surreptitiously left in the alms box of a church in the East End.
The escapade had served its purpose, reminding Matthew that there was still excitement to be had in this life, even if it wasn’t as Harriet’s husband. Besides, he reasoned with himself, she’d be happier with her new husband than she would have been with him. Matthew had been weighed in the balance and been found wanting.
Tonight, though, as he considered the winnings before him, he realized he might do something about evening the score on at least one account. If only he could run in these sorts of aristocratic circles on the regular, he might find himself as rich as Croesus, hang Mr. Grice. For while Matthew couldn’t fathom pocketing his winnings from the low gambling houses, he’d no compunctions about mucking out this set for his own gain.
“Again!” Sir Colin Gearing exclaimed, his mood still jovial despite losing. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but I know when I’m bested. Better find my entertainment elsewhere, or my mother’ll be fit to be tied.”
“What’s the game, gentlemen?Vingt-un?”
Matthew didn’t have to turn to recognize the voice of the evening’s hostess. He prayed that this time he could converse in a normal manner.
“That’s right,” Sir Colin said, his smile audible in his voice. “But I ought to warn you, my lady, Dr. Collier is quite the broadsman. I doubt many could match his skill.”
“How nice for him,” Lady Caplin said, breezily taking Gearing’s place alongside Matthew.
Matthew looked sideways at her, unsure of just how to feel, only that he wished very much to please her. She seemed to have that effect on everyone; even the dealer, some servant in her livery, waited patiently with her hands atop the table, eyes fixed upon Lady Caplin.
“I have a proposal, Dr. Collier. Rather than staking our bets with counters, shall we make things a bit more interesting?”
“How interesting?” he barely managed to say.
“Any time you win, I shall answer any question you wish. But any time I win, you must answer whatever I put forth to you. In turn, we shall become even better acquainted.” She murmured the last few words slowly, her head inclined demurely.
“Odd thing,” Sir Colin Gearing piped up behind the pair of them. “Can’t say I’ve ever played like that.”
Lady Caplin turned to give him a severe look. “Sir Colin, I have reason to believe my son is making mischief somewhere in the vicinity of the refreshments. He and his foolish little friend. Could I beg a favor?”
Now she smiled sweetly, looking far gentler than Matthew had begun to suspect she was.
Sir Colin’s entire bearing changed in an instant. No longer was he a carefree youth who happened to don a frock coat with epaulets, but a rigid and determined naval officer who looked every bit the part in the uniform.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll set them straight.”
Once Sir Colin had retreated, Lady Caplin turned her gaze back to Matthew, expectant.
“Well, Dr. Collier? What say you?”
Again she smiled.
“Of course,” he agreed.
