Page 7 of A Gentleman's Wager
“No doubt the captain considered his gallantry simply the everyday duty of an officer,” Miss Rushdale proposed. It was a generous compliment on her part, since she did not know the man. Lucerne, who knew Wakefield rather better, saw no point in gainsaying the suggestion. He would unravel the truth of the situation later.
Dinner consisted of salmon, grouse and a jellied asparagus, with beetroot pancakes, and a trifle decorated with purple and yellow pansies. Rushdale proved himself an amiable host over an abundance of port, practical, countrified, but pleasantly so, though he cut after-dinner brandy short so that Lucerne and Wakefield could take a stroll about the gardens with the ladies before the light faded.
As Wakefield immediately attached himself to Miss Stanley, Lucerne extended his arm to Miss Rushdale. She hesitated in accepting.
“If I was going to inform your brother of our prior meeting, then I would have done so by now.”
Bella acquiesced.
Lucerne guided her out into the gardens, well, if he was honest, it was more her leading him. They were lushly verdant, the lawn woven with clover and bilberries, bordered by drystone walls that gave way to a valley of ling. The scents of late summer hung in the air—arid ground, recently mown grass, combined with the perfume of the flowers. As for Miss Rushdale, she was not, he now admitted so plain as he’d first thought her. There was a mischievous turn to her mouth, which was readily given to smiles, and an openness to her that he rather admired. “You recall that meeting, I suppose.”
“I think you have me mistaken—” she lied, smooth as you please.
“No—no. Let us not pretend, Miss Rushdale, I saw you plainly as I see you now. You were trespassing on my property.”
He thought for a moment that she would argue the point, but she levelled him a look out of the corner of her eye, and an impish grin puckered her lips.
“How was I to know there was anyone home? Lauwine’s been deserted for years.”
“Ah, not only an admission of guilt, but one of multiple offences?” He didn’t doubt she’d spent many an hour tramping about his estate like it was her personal paradise.
“Tish,” she muttered. “I weren’t doing no harm. No one’s bothered with it in an age, least of all you. You might thank me for keeping an eye on the place. I won’t charge for the service.”
She succeeded in startling a laugh from him. “Indeed, you’re right, Miss Rushdale. I should be pleased that someone was so assiduously looking out for my property.”
“I was, most assiduously.”
“I suppose you must have thought me a ruffian, which is why you chose the vantagepoint of a tree to keep a watchful eye on me.”
“That’s it. That’s it precisely. How clever of you to realise.” She tipped her chin up towards him and met his gaze without even trying to disguise her smirk. “And you know, my observations were most enlightening.”
Rather more so than any young lady ought to admit to judging by the merriment in her gaze. He raised his eyebrows astonished that she’d even hint at what she’d seen him doing. She’d not done it out of simplicity. No, the minx meant him to know. “Which was?” he said half-choked, and much to his own astonishment.
Bella returned his previous eyebrow raise. “I don’t know that it would be entirely wise to be specific about it.” She looked about as if there might be other Peeping Tom’s perched within tree bowers.
“No?”
There was barely a hint of colour in her cheeks as she stared him down. He’d definitely changed his mind about her. Her attire might be shockingly passe, but that was simply the outer wrapping, what lay within was intriguing. Arousing even. Lucerne couldn’t recall a time when an unwed woman had ever stared him down over any issue.
“I wonder, my lord, do you often gad about so? I mean as you were, when I mistook you for a villain?”
One of the many downsides of abandoning the city Lucerne had discovered was the means of relieving the sort of tensions that were apt to afflict a fellow, particularly of a morning, but also of an evening. So, the answer was a more resounding yes than he’d have liked to admit. Not that he was admitting anything. One didn’t discuss that sort of thing with unwed women you weren’t about to exchange coppers with.
They reached a grove of aged ash trees at the bottom of the lawn, and Miss Rushdale let go of his arm to take to the swing hanging on long ropes from their bowers. Her gaze flicked up and down over his form, settling rather too firmly on the crotch of his breeches.
She was wicked. Absolutely blatant. Lucerne half-laughed, half-groaned at his growing reaction to her assessment. If she kept peering at him quite so brazenly, he might take it upon himself to do something far less gentlemanly than giving her a gentle push on the swing, like turning her over it and throwing up her skirts.
“Excuse me for asking, my lord,” she said kicking her legs out before her, “but, while we are being so intimate, might I ask why you are here now, after shunning Lauwine for so long?”
“Lucerne,” he insisted, surprising himself. He was not in the habit of inviting such intimacy with young ladies so shortly after meeting them, but he’d decided he liked her, and lord knows he needed some excitement to liven up his days, or he’d expire from boredom before he ever managed to restore Lauwine to a semblance of its purported former glory.
“Lucerne,” she turned his name over as if by repeating it she could get a sense of him. “Very well, Lucerne. Then I suppose you must call me Bella. My question stands.”
It was a fair question, one with a variety of answers, none of which he could easily put into words, or even wanted to at this stage of their acquaintance. Lucerne rolled his shoulders, trying to undo the tension he suddenly felt there, but the motion only created extra knots. Some might say he was running away, others, that he was finally settling into his duties.
The wind caught her skirts as she sailed forward through the air, flipping back the fabric and treating him to an unexpected flash of her stocking tops. The vision sent another bolt of arousal through his loins, lengthening and thickening him in ways that rather derailed his thoughts.
“My lord?” She slowed her flight.
