Page 9 of Enticing Odds
He forgot the rest of his intended sentence. The lady was small in stature, elegantly turned-out, with a lovely face nearly completely hidden by her hat’s wide brim and generous veil. Forgetting himself, Matthew peered closer.
Then he nearly choked as recognition dawned on him. Somehow, he managed to stammer the name that came ringing back into his mind with startling ease.
“Lady Caplin?”
Chapter Two
Lady Caplin’s brown eyeswidened.
Matthew hastily doffed his hat, hoping to quell whatever fear had overcome her.
Curse his ungainliness. This was why he’d never be admitted to the Athenaeum—that legendary haven for great thinkers and learners—never mind his unremarkable origins. He’d never shed his provincial awkwardness, never moved through this metropolis like the sophisticated creatures who’d been born into it. In his mind he’d always be the balky foundling taken in by his punctilious aunt and uncle, reared on Cranmer’sDaily Officeand groaty pudding.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” she said, glancing about before harshly adding, “I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance.”
“Dr. Matthew Collier, my lady,” he offered inelegantly. Ought he make mention of the circumstances of their first meeting, when he’d bluffed his way into her ball years ago?
“Dr. Collier…” She froze, staring at him intently. “Wehavemet, haven’t we?”
Matthew smiled in relief. He didn’t violate social mores as a habit, but it was an awfully tricky thing when your friends conscripted you into their dubious schemes.
Suddenly the hint of a smile warmed her entire face. “And how do you find the cards as of late?”
“The cards? I, er…” Matthew fumbled for a moment, reaching up to fiddle with his spectacles. Finally he recalled the obscene winnings he’d walked away with the night of said ball. “Ah, generally… well.” He cleared his throat, wondering if he ought to be speaking so casually of gambling.
Lady Caplin seemed to have no such reservations.
“I would certainly imagine so,” she said coyly. “If I recall correctly, Sir Geoffrey was so badly laid out he didn’t play for several months after, on strict instructions from his wife.”
Matthew flushed.
“I hadn’t meant… that is—egad.” He grimaced, casting about for the proper thing to say. “A terrible shame, I didn’t expect—”
“Why, you’re a wee lamb, aren’t you?” she interrupted with a gentle laugh.
Matthew froze, fearing he’d said something wrong. Difficult, that, when he’d barely strung together a coherent sentence to begin with.
“And yet you don’t look it,” she murmured, her gaze raking him up and down. “No, not at all.”
Lady Caplin’s expression shifted into something altogether different, something more akin to the look Harriet had given her new husband that morning. It was both appraising and curious, sly yet sincere. Aloof, yet interested.
Heated.
Matthew swallowed. He hadn’t expected that, of all things.
“Well, Dr. Collier. You are more than welcome to come lay waste at my card tables whenever the fancy strikes you.” She smiled wide, revealing two charming dimples, at odds with herotherwise cool and controlled demeanor. “Heaven knows I could use the entertainment.”
“Of course,” he agreed weakly.
She lifted her head and glanced around, easily transforming into the fearsome, fashionable creature he remembered.
“You may accompany me to my carriage, if you like.”
It was only a few yards to the road. Matthew might have been oblivious to certain things, but he knew a demand disguised as a request, and promptly complied. Baffled by the strangeness of the encounter, Matthew did his best to ignore the pressure of her fingers on his upper arm.
“Your Mr. Rickard and Miss Sedley wed, after all that fuss,” Lady Caplin said abruptly.
“Yes,” he agreed, scanning the few carriages waiting before them. None boasted loud colors or grand crests. He couldn’t fathom which might belong to her. “Four years now. They’ve a daughter as well, dear thing.” Matthew hoped he didn’t sound envious. He was happy for his friend, truly.
