Page 3 of Enticing Odds
He sat at a whist table, his countenance quite different from before. Upon their arrival he’d been anxious, his eyes darting about when he and his stone-faced friend had been announced. But now he had a serious set to his brow, his well-formed lips pressed in a firm line. Before him sat a tidy pile of winnings alongside a neat stack of whist markers. Seated opposite him was a young red-haired lad she recognized as one of the Gearings, a naval family, whose delight at the outcome of this partnership was scarcely contained.
Apparently the doctor had laid waste to the opposition sat on either side between them, if their meager piles were any indication.
“Does fortune favor you tonight, gentlemen?” Cressida paused behind the well-built interloper, one gloved hand upon his chair.
“I’d say. Fantastic showing, bloody brilliant!” exclaimed the young Gearing, leaning forward in his chair. “Why, Dr. Collier’s an old hand at this.”
“Yes, yes, we’re all aware by now,” one of their opponents grumbled, shaking his head.
“And how many points is game?” Cressida asked merrily. She couldn’t help but glance toward the handsome doctor beside her, her fingers idly tapping the chair back.
Dr. Collier’s strong jaw was set, his large hand cupping his cards as if she might peek.
“Seven, my lady,” the dejected man’s partner said with a good-natured laugh. “And we’ve been at it for a time as well. Awful business, flailing for the better part of an hour. Well, we best crack on then. More losses to suffer, no doubt.”
Dr. Collier stood abruptly, upending his chair. Startled, Cressida stepped back and stumbled. Curse her impeccably turned-out gown with its blasted train.
Almost quicker than she could see, the doctor reached out and caught her wrist. A jolt of shock ran through her, though she managed to regain her footing with what she hoped was at least a shred of dignity.
“Lady Caplin, I’m so… a million apologies. I didn’t mean, that is…”
His hand was still upon her. Cressida stared at it, taken aback at her own reaction. Her body was reeling at this stranger’s touch, her heart skipping as if she were some wide-eyed ingénue.Pathetic. She swallowed, then calmly looked up.
He was arrestingly handsome and well-built, wasn’t he? A fine mouth and lovely, shy eyes behind those wire spectacles.
“Dr. Collier,” she warned, and glanced back at her wrist.
“Oh,” he muttered as he released her. “Do forgive me, I had lost track of the time and needed to…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat.
“It’s quite alright, and I suppose I ought to offer my gratitude. Though I don’t expect I would have fallen.”
“Oh?”
“No, of course not,” she purred as she made a show of examining her skirts, elegantly craning her neck to its best advantage. “I’m a paragon of grace, as you can see.”
That won her some chuckles from the other gentlemen. The doctor, though, appeared even more flustered, his face coloring like a schoolboy. She quite liked that.
“And what prior engagement do you have that requires you to turn tail and run from the whist table?”
The doctor glanced back to the table for a moment, the din of the parlor filling the pause in their conversation.
“Perhaps… might I speak to you in confidence?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” she said skeptically.
Oh dear, how disappointing. And just when we seemed to be getting on.
This was certainly not the sort of intrigue she had in mind—him making a cake of himself by announcing his intent, blundering through the whole business. All prospects of engaging in a torrid affair with this lovely, physical man had been dashed. Why, a babe in the woods he was! Asking her to scurry off before not one, but two well-connected men, plus the Gearing lad to boot—did he think this the best way to go about things? Perhaps it was standard procedure amongst him and his peers—first an exchange of furtive glances in a stuffy front parlor, then simply taking hold of the object of one’s desire and leading them away, hang the rest of the assembled company.
Well, she’d set him down gently, novice that he was. Perhaps, once he’d some practice at this sort of thing, she’d entertain his suit once more.
For it would be a shame not to see him without his woolen vest, without his shirt. To feel those sizable hands somewhere a bit more sensitive, and those lips as well… But no, Cressida was no fool, especially not when it came to matters between a man and a woman. Keep a cool head and a colder heart, one must, lestone slip up and do something silly in public—like asking to speak to someone in private.
The doctor looked about, uncertain of how to proceed, before stooping over to set his chair to rights. He hurriedly pocketed his winnings and made his apologies to his fellow players before turning back to Cressida.
“Gentlemen,” she offered graciously to the other players. “Dr. Collier?” She indicated the parlor doors with an incline of her head.
She set off through the halls, taking a circuitous route away from the guests, lest anyone think anything of her sneaking off with this Dr. Collier at her heels.
