Page 14 of Fortune Favors the Viscount
He tossed out a two of diamonds. “Thank God. My soul is at peace once more.”
Emilia looked up from her cards. They were tied at a pair of tricks each, but she could tell he was toying with her. He’d probably been gambling since before she could count. “What sort of man did I expect?”
“I know my own reputation.”
She regarded him. “I didn’t.”
“Your good friend Lord Oliver McCorquodale must have told you something, before he gave you such a moving introduction.” He spoke somberly, seriously, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.
Emilia froze. He knew she’d lied to get in to see him. Slowly she laid down her cards, and picked up the wineglass, still nearly full, and took a sip.
Everything in life is a gamble.
Well, she knew that. She didn’t like to call it gambling—she preferred to think of it as thoughtful, considered decision-making—but she’d taken any number of chances in her life. Some had been forced upon her, but others... others she’d deliberately taken. To avoid something worse, to spite someone who deserved it, to follow what her heart told her to do instead of what her head knew was wiser.
The larger the wager, the larger the winnings, she thought, remembering one of her father’s favorite phrases, and drank more wine to avoid thinking of the other possible outcome.
“I forged that note,” she said. “Oliver is indeed my friend, but he’s in Scotland and has no idea I’m here. I wish hehadbeen in town, because I would have welcomed his help.”
Dashwood said nothing, but one brow quirked slightly as if to sayHow unfortunate for me.
She took another drink. “I suppose you could call that a gamble. Fortunately, it paid off.”
“Did it?” His voice was low and even. Faintly threatening, she supposed, but she wasn’t unnerved by it now. The wine must be helping.
“Obviously, since it gained me an interview.” She gave him a slight smile, the glass swinging easily in her hand. “That turned out to be very important, because it taught me a great deal about you.”
“Did it?”
Emilia nodded, feeling rash and reckless. “You say you like your life as it is, but you’re intrigued by what might be. You don’t want to give in too easily, not to a mere governess—or perhaps you don’t wish to be thought a snob like the rest of the aristocracy—but you’re asking yourself... what if Iwerea lord? What if all these pompous peopledidhave to bow to me, and sayyes, my lordwhen I speak to them, and allow me into their hallowed halls of power and even—some of them—let me court their daughters? Because a single viscount in possession of a large fortune will be a matrimonial prize, and more than one family will covet his wealth and title enough to disregard any undesirable traits of the man himself. Not flattering, I admit, which is perhaps why you’re trying to disdain it.” She selected a card from her hand at random and wagged it at him. “But if you hide behind a wager, you can say to the world, ‘why, it isn’t that Iwantedthe title, it was just how the cards fell. Fate decided for me!’” She tossed the card on the table and drained her wine. By God, that was excellent stuff. “Youwantme to win this wager.”
He watched her with glittering eyes. “Is that so?”
Emilia shrugged. “What have you to gain by winning? It would cost you five thousand pounds and, worse, any chance of knowing what I discovered. Iwouldburn it all,” she added as his mouth flattened. “I’m a woman of my word. But then, you’d never know what I found. I think that would bother you.”
“You’re wrong,” he said.
“Oh, well. Then I’d be wrong.” She raised her arms in a dramatic shrug. “Iknow what I found. I suppose if I, a lowly governess with only some stubbornness to her credit, was able to discover it, someone else could, too, but if you truly wish to remain as you are, I would respect your wishes and not tell a soul.” She pursed her lips and pressed one fingertip to them as if to silence herself.
He stared at her with such an expression, it would have made her nervous—if she hadn’t been frustrated and desperate and, it must be admitted, a little tipsy. She hadn’t eaten in hours and the wine was going rapidly to her head.
“Why do you want so badly for me to be the next viscount?” he finally asked.
She waved one hand and picked up the other glass. Brandy; liquid courage. “It doesn’t matter to me who the next viscount is. I don’t care a fig for you or for the Sydenham title.” She raised the glass in mock salute and drank, before thumping it back on the table. “What I care for, is Lucy. She’s almost ten. She loves drawing, and lavender cakes with honey, and a fat yellow cat called Sir Chester Cheddar, and I will never leave her because she has no one else in the world to care for her. It’s not her fault her mother died when she was a babe, nor that her father was a monster who didn’t die soon enough. She deserves to be safe and loved, and I can’t give her that without help.
“Soyes, Mr. Dashwood. I want you to be the next viscount, because you are the best chance I have to ensure she’s provided for. I’d be happy to take your money for the same purpose, but I wouldn’t have a legal right to keep her, being a mere governess, and I would forever live in fear that someone would challenge me for her.” She jabbed a scolding finger at him. “An orphan child with five thousand pounds would be prey to a great many charlatans and villains.Youcould take custody of her, though, as head of her family.Youcould ensure that she has a safe home, warm clothes, and good food until she’s old enough to make a respectable marriage. But only, of course, if luck should lead you that way,” she finished a bit bitterly.
His face had gone hard again, and his gaze was blistering. “No such thing as luck,” he said thinly. He tossed out a card and Emilia blinked, realized the trick was hers, and took it.
They played the rest of the game in silence, a rapid smack of cards on the table. Emilia didn’t even look at her cards until the trick was played; she stared defiantly at the man across from her, whose posture remained lax and easy even though she could tell he was as angry at her as she was at him.
At the end, she looked down and realized with a start that she’d won. Because of the wine, she had to count twice to be certain. As she absorbed that, he got to his feet.
“Oh dear,” he said sardonically. “Look how the cards have fallen. I have lost our wager. Fate has decided for me.” He went to the door, where he paused. “I’ll call on you tomorrow to examine your papers. Early. Mornings are the end of my day, not the beginning.”
“Of—of course,” she stammered.
Without another word he walked out, leaving her wide-eyed and speechless.
