Page 17 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
Had everyone taken note of her partners? It was to be expected, she supposed, if a gentleman had a keen interest in her. “As you’ve already pointed out, I danced with a good many gents.”
“Yes, but you never took your gaze from Mabry’s. It was quite intense—the manner in which the two of you looked at each other. It made me wonder if you might welcome his suit.”
“I walked down the aisle in the church with him as well, but that doesn’t mean we’re to marry. Besides, he is not of a mind to wed.”
“Many a man not of a mind to wed finds himself at the altar.”
Not Andrew. And certainly not with her. If he had not kissed her when they were in such close proximity in that small room at the brothel or when they were so near when he delivered her to the door, he obviously had the fortitude to resist all temptation where she was concerned, while she would gladly surrender to it.
She tried to envision herself feeling as comfortable with Somerdale at a brothel, but the images simply wouldn’t form. She couldn’t see him not objecting when she went off with a dove, laughing when he realized all she’d been doing was conversing, encouraging her to peep at a couple who were on the precipice of fornicating.
She also realized that while she knew exactly how many—and precisely which—ladies Andrew had escorted onto the dance floor, she hadn’t noticed if Somerdale had danced with anyone other than herself. He was kind, polite, loyal—all wonderful attributes—but they didn’t make her grow warm with longing. Shouldn’t she want more from a man than pleasant walks?
“I seem to have killed our conversation,” he said with an awkward laugh.
“I was simply noticing the clouds. They seem to be growing darker. I think it’s going to rain.”
“We should probably start back then. You are as sweet as sugar and likely to melt if you get wet.”
He was trying so hard to charm her. She felt rather badly that she wasn’t charmed. Still, she patted his arm. “Yes, we probably should.”
It was an odd thing. She’d wanted so desperately to be courted. And now she was finding it dull. Last night had spoiled her. She wasn’t certain if she’d ever again find anything as exciting.
Damn it all to hell! What the devil was Gina doing here, in a secluded room at the Twin Dragons?
It was supposed to be a private card game with family and close friends. Although Andrew supposed she now qualified as both, at least in his sister’s eyes. Grace sat beside Gina, leaning toward her, showing her various cards, no doubt explaining the rules of the game. He didn’t know how much good the instructions were doing because Gina had not taken her gaze from him since he’d stepped through the heavy draperies that separated the small gaming area from the sitting room behind him.
If he’d known she was going to be here, he’d have made his excuses and searched for sport elsewhere, but he couldn’t very well leave now without having to offer some sort of explanation for his abrupt departure. It wouldn’t do at all to explain he’d been in a constant state of arousal since delivering Gina to his parents’ residence the night before. He seemed incapable of purging her from his mind. Images of her sitting on the bed with a molly, in the darkness peering into the forbidden, and traveling demurely in his carriage fought for dominance, each bringing with it some aspect of her that he never wanted to forget.
“Why the frown, Andrew?” Lovingdon asked, watching him as though horns were slowly sprouting from his forehead. As he’d abruptly developed a raging headache, perhaps they were.
“I’m not frowning,” he snapped. Was he? Good God, there was a time when he’d been able to keep all his emotions hidden behind a wall that suddenly seemed in danger of crumbling.
“Perhaps you’re afraid I’ll take all your money,” Gina said.
He feared she might take something, but it had nothing to do with the coins in his purse. “Have you ever played before?” he asked, handing his jacket off to a footman, before beginning to roll up his sleeves while taking the only chair that remained available at the round table, one directly across from her.
She gave him a hesitant smile, but he noticed her eyes dipped to his arms as though she were fascinated by the simple task that revealed skin. “No, but I’ve had luck at the roulette table. Of course, your tutelage there helped.”
“I wouldn’t trust Andrew to do right by you when it comes to this game,” Grace said. “He likes to win.”
“We all like to win.” He didn’t know why he felt that tonight was some sort of test. “I assume this evening we’ll be playing by guest rules.”
“What are those?” Gina asked. “I don’t want you to let me win.”
“We’re not that kind,” he assured her. “We simply won’t cheat.”
Her smile grew, mesmerizing in its intensity. “Could you teach me to cheat?”
“It would require private lessons. I’m not going to reveal my methods to the scoundrels around this table.” Which included the Dukes and Duchesses of Ashebury and Avendale. His family associated with far too many dukes.
“If you want to learn from an expert,” Drake Darling, the owner of the establishment, said, “you’d be better off taking lessons from Grace. She’s the most skilled.”
Except Andrew didn’t want her learning from Grace. If anyone was going to teach her anything at all, he wanted it to be him. Only what he really wanted to share with her were dark, forbidden things, things that if they were caught doing would bring censure down on them. He knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—travel that path with her. She’d suffered through and survived her own sister’s scandal without becoming cynical. She didn’t need one of her own. It would change her irrevocably. He didn’t want her any different than she was.
“Those instructions must wait for another night,” Grace said. “Tonight we play honestly. Besides, it’s good practice to do that every now and then, lest we forget how.”
“Ante up,” Drake announced.
