The Earl Breaks Even (Gambling Peers #3)

Chapter Six

D erek stared at Mabel, who herself appeared momentarily frozen. The warm light from the oil lamps cast her in an unearthly golden glow, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what problem he had just been trying to solve.

“I…” she started after a moment before trailing off, seemingly unsure what to say. “I just came down for a book,” she said at last.

Derek nodded as his hand shuffled the deck of cards. He finished and placed it on the table before standing up.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, sounding almost apologetic.

“You’re not,” he said. “I was just taking a moment to work out an issue.”

“What issue?”

He had been reading a letter from his steward, Mr. Franklin, who was overseeing the renovation of the fish folly that sat on a small island in the middle of the river Thames at his country home in Henley-on-Thames. It had sustained an extensive amount of damage the year before due to excessive spring flooding, and Derek had been trying to decide whether to write Mr. Franklin back with instructions on how to handle the issue or to travel to the country to tend to the matter himself.

It was one of a dozen things that needed to be addressed at Boxwood Park, and he was glad that Parliament would let out in a few weeks so that he could return and deal with everything on site. While Derek enjoyed the hustle and bustle of London life, it was good to have a reprieve every few months. With this summer being scorching, Derek longed for the sanctuary of his country estate.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” he said as she came forward.

“Do you play?”

He glanced back at the table.

“I do.”

“I do as well,” she said, studying him. “Faro, in particular.” When he didn’t speak, she smirked. “Care for a game?”

“There’s only two of us.”

“I think we can manage.”

“Wouldn’t your Mr. Bentley take issue with your playing a card game in the middle of the night? Alone with a man, dressed in your nightgown?”

When he said it, he thought he sounded like a sullen child, but to his surprise, a blush rose to Mabel’s cheeks. She bit her bottom lip, almost as if she were ashamed of something. Derek couldn’t concentrate on whatever that might be as he was transfixed on her mouth.

“I deserve that,” she said, lifting her chin. “I didn’t mean what I said, you know. I only meant to aggravate you.”

“And why would your kissing Mr. Bentley aggravate me?”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

Derek shook his head and laughed despite himself. He had been aggravated—infuriated, actually, if he was being honest, but he wouldn’t admit it to her.

“Shall we?” she asked, motioning at the table.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” she said, mischief in her dark eyes. “Are you not very good?”

The idea that a Trembley wasn’t very good at cards was laughable, but there was a teasing in her tone that gently pulled at him, making him want to tease her back.

“I’m exceptional,” he said, his tenor deep.

“So am I,” she said, and every inch of him agreed. “Shall we?”

Derek wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly wished to play, and not simply because he enjoyed cards. The small details emerging from a game like Faro were suddenly impossible to give up.

He dipped his head, and she pushed past him, the delicate scent of rose blooms hovering in the air around her. It was intoxicating, and he nearly closed his eyes as he inhaled, but he steeled himself and turned back to sit in the chair he had just abandoned.

“You carry a deck of cards with you often, do you not?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why is that?”

Her slender shoulder came up and dropped.

“I find shuffling a soothing habit. I learned to play cards as a girl, after my mother’s death. My father had been teaching me how to play, but he stopped after she died. I always found something about the fluttering of the cards engaging, so I took his playing cards. I suppose I developed a bit of an attachment to them.” She picked up the deck of cards and began shuffling them. He watched her intently. “It’s silly, I suppose.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Having cards on you seems a rather healthy habit. At least you’ve not taken to drinking to deal with your nerves. I know several gentlemen who have done just that.”

“I’ve found that I’m not quite compatible with alcohol, though how I found that out, you’ll never know,” she said, seeming equal parts amused and mortified as she sat down. “You know, I didn’t think anyone would be awake when I came down here.” She placed the deck on the table and he cut it in two before she picked it back up. “I was hoping to find a book to read. I’m afraid I fell asleep too early.”

“Yes, I heard.”

“Did you?” she asked.

“I was informed by George that you retired early.”

“Ah yes. Your spy,” she teased. “Tell me, do you supply all your guests with handlers?”

“No,” he answered as he began dealing the cards.

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“I believe I do. You don’t trust that I can manage myself, even though I’m a fully grown woman who’s managed herself for several years.”

“In your own country and hometown. London is worlds away from Philadelphia.”

“I handled myself just as well when I was in France,” she said as she placed the deck on the table, turning the first card face up.

“Is that so?” he asked, forcing himself to sound nonchalant. The truth was, he was actually very interested to learn about her life before coming to London. “Your husband didn’t care how you came or went?”

“No. He didn’t.”

Derek glanced up from his cards and noted the studied neutrality of her face, as if she was repressing every expression by sheer force of will. What did she mean “no”? Why would her husband not worry about her coming and going? Something about the finality of her answer irked him, and he wondered what sort of man the comte had been.

“Tell me what you were thinking about, before I interrupted you.”

He wasn’t sure what he should say, not wanting to confide in her, and yet, something urged him to do so.

“To be honest, I was thinking about how strange it was that I used to dread going to Boxwood Park when I was younger and now I can’t help but want to be there. Even a few years ago, I did not look forward to having to leave the city to attend all the dreary house parties and hunts in the country.”

“You prefer the city?”

“Well, that’s just it. I thought I did. I always used to. But now I find that I’m quite ready to be done with the city and spend the next several months in the country by the time Parliament concludes its session.”

“I can understand that,” she said as she laid down her cards. “I win.”

“So you did. Again?” he asked as he gathered the cards.

She nodded, then continued her previous thought.

“I always thought the city was far more entertaining. And there is always something to do, no matter the time of year. Being surrounded by people, even when you’re quite alone, always seemed to boost my moods when they turned melancholy.”

The cards nearly slipped from his hand, but he regained them in a flash. Yes. He had had a similar experience, particularly after his father died. The country had seemed to be far too quiet, and he had hated the way he was constantly alone with his thoughts. At least in the city, he could distract himself with plays or visits to his club.

“But every once in a while, the crowds, and the endless chatter, well… it drains a person, I believe.”

He nodded in agreement. Yes, the shine of London’s nightlife had dimmed for him in recent years. His friends were all married, and soon his brothers would be as well, and without them, the city seemed a little larger and colder, not quite as full and engaging as it once had been.

He knew he was lonely. What he didn’t know was what he was going to do about it. The time was not far off when he would have to find a bride, but besides several attractive ladies who always tried to step in his way, he hadn’t found anyone to stir anything except physical reactions. Which were fine and good, even required in a wife, but every lady he spoke to seemed too blank. Not to say that they didn’t have clever minds, but none had ever challenged him.

Except, of course, Mabel.

“You know, it’s rather lucky for me to have run into you,” she continued as she scanned her cards.

To his eternal embarrassment, Derek’s hand began to shake slightly. It was maddening, to say the least. Why his hands would shake for apparently no reason infuriated him. No doubt it made him appear weak or nervous.

Dropping his cards, he tucked his hands into his pockets and glared at her.

“And why is that?”

To her credit, she kept her eyes on her cards and pretended nothing had happened. Which made him grateful, yet also irked him.

“We need to discuss our situation.”

Her calm blue eyes seemed to shine in the firelight. She was a forward woman, seemingly afraid of nothing. Even being alone with a man in the middle of the night. But then she had nothing to fear from Derek. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“That being?”

“Separating our siblings from this ludicrous union.”

Surprise, and then disappointment, flooded his senses, but he remained still. She was correct, of course. They needed to figure out how to separate Leona and Alfred once and for all.

“And I suppose you have a plan?”

“A better one then parading a former paramour out around Alfred. Really, he’s far too smitten with Leona to pay attention to anyone else. Haven’t you noticed?”

“All men are smitten with their fiancées.”

“Would that that were the truth,” she said, a bitter note in her tone, but she continued. “Regardless, Alfred is. Dangling another woman in front of him is not going to change that. What we need is to think of something that will show both of them that neither are truly aware of how detrimental this marriage would be. Maybe plant a seed of doubt between them.”

“We don’t exactly have months to discourage them,” Derek said as they laid down their cards. Damn it. She’d won again. “The banns have already been posted. We leave for Boxwood Park in a week’s time, and the two will be married by the end of the month.”

Mabel’s brows arched.

“Which is why you need my help.”

Derek stared at her momentarily and then pushed his chair back and stood. He walked toward the small, cylinder-shaped cupboard where several glasses and a bottle of amber liquid sat on the marble top. Pouring two glasses, one for himself and one for Mabel, he brought them back to the table and placed one in front of her. He hadn’t asked if she wanted one, but he believed she might and wasn’t surprised when she took a sip.

He did need Mabel’s help, but he recalled what she said to him at the races. She wanted an apology and a concession from him after the way he’d refused her aid before.

Taking a large sip of the burning liquid, he sat down, mildly amused at how her face scrunched up at the taste. She coughed slightly but waved her hand before he could ask if she was all right.

“I suppose you have an idea as to how we should break these two apart?”

“Well, it’s not so much a plan but rather a series of little events,” she said, waving her hand as if to explain. “If there were little things, small fractures that could be caused here and there, then the weight of their own concerns could create a larger fissure. For example, my sister has a pet peeve when it comes to waiting on others. She likes to be prompt.”

“A fair point.”

“She also doesn’t respond well to being ignored.”

“No one does.”

“She also dislikes sweet pea flowers, impractical footwear and arrogance.”

Derek gave her a speculative glance.

“Impractical footwear and arrogance I can understand, but why doesn’t she like sweet pea blooms?”

“They were our mother’s favorite flowers.”

Derek frowned.

“Then wouldn’t she be partial to them?”

“Not when the entire house was filled with them for weeks after she passed. The scent always reminded Leona of that sad time. She cannot stand them now. I do not blame her, as it was rather dreadful.”

The mention of her deceased mother seemed not to bother Mabel, though Derek was sure it was a sore subject, no matter how well she masked her feelings.

“That’s understandable, I suppose. My brother informed me how your mother died. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Mabel shook her head.

“It was many years ago.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’d rather not talk about it actually,” she said quickly. “Now, tell me what your brother dislikes.”

To Derek’s surprise, he couldn’t think of anything his brother didn’t like. Alfred was always the most easygoing Trembley brother and rarely complained about anything.

The longer the silence grew between them, the more confused Mabel’s face became.

“Surely you can think of something,” she said. “He’s your brother.”

“Well, he doesn’t like cheating—at card games, that is. And he’s not too fond of poorly written poetry, I suppose.”

“Is that it?” she asked, sounding a little frustrated.

“He doesn’t like being frivolous with his money. He’s rather practical in dress. More so than Fredrick and I.”

Mabel’s face lit up.

“Well now, that’s something I can work with.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I’ll simply take Leona out for an extravagant shopping spree and then have her show him everything she’s bought and tell him all the prices for each item.”

He had to hand it to her. She seemed to know how to do this. The fact that she was so skilled in creating discord concerned him somewhat, but he batted that thought away.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “I suppose we should work together then.”

“Ha,” she said, that maddening, dazzling smirk appearing on her face.

“You don’t wish to?”

“Of course I do, but I already offered my services and you denied them.” She stared at him for a moment. “I require a heartfelt apology after being so carelessly rejected—as well as a concession.”

Irritable humor fell over him at her self-importance. She was bothersome, that was certain, but then his annoyance was mixed with a wild sense of yearning. Who did she think she was, demanding such things from him?

“Why make me apologize?”

“Because I want it.”

“And you always get what you want?”

“Only when I’ve decided to.”

That made Derek laugh. At the very least, she was an entertaining opponent. He took another mouthful of whiskey, this one burning far less than the first few sips.

“Very well. Miss Meadows, I am sincerely sorry for having ignored your generous offer to aid me in this quest of separating our siblings before their wedding. Will you forgive me, and help me prevent them from making the gravest mistake of their lives?”

“I accept your apology and I will help you,” she said as she took yet another sip. “For the price of a kiss.”

Derek stilled, unsure if he had heard her right. He looked up and saw her no longer smiling but gazing at him intently.

It didn’t matter that he had wanted to kiss her since the moment she first entered the family parlor, the day she and her sister arrived in London. Back then, propriety had stopped him. She was a divorcée, no innocent miss when it came to the bedroom, so he couldn’t be accused of corrupting her or tainting a purity that she no longer had. But she was still something of a walking scandal, and kissing her would only invite more trouble.

Yes. He had to repeat that to himself several times before he spoke because it would be far too easy to give her what she wanted.

“You are aware that such a request might reflect poorly on yourself.”

Mabel laughed again, only this time Derek thought he caught a nervousness to it. Was she nervous, being so bold?

“I was married, before, if you remember. A kiss is hardly anything.”

“I suppose not.”

“Unless you’ve never been kissed?”

She was teasing him, and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why do you want it, though?” he asked, after a moment. “We’ve hardly been civil to one another.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then why?”

“Well, you’ve made it perfectly clear that poor Mr. Bentley wouldn’t survive a kiss and I still am curious.”

He cocked his head.

“Curious about what exactly?”

“If Englishmen kiss better than Frenchmen,” she said softly.

Derek rolled his shoulders back instinctively.

“We absolutely do.”

“Well, rumor would have most people believe the opposite, I’m afraid.”

“I guarantee it.”

“Then prove it, please.”

He was amazed that such a request should make him feel so many different things at once, but if he was anything, he was duty-bound. For England, he told himself as he turned to her.

Derek’s arm reached out as he grabbed the leg of her chair and pulled her abruptly close. She clearly hadn’t expected that, but before she could choke out a sound, Derek reached his other hand out to touch her face as he drew her close enough to kiss her.

He had meant to shock her, to deliver what she asked for with purpose, but the moment their lips met, a strange alertness seemed to heighten within him. He slowed his kiss as his eyes closed, taking in all the senses of her. The taste of her mouth, the scent of her skin, the feel of her cheek. He held her face and leaned closer as he deepened his kiss, searching her mouth with his tongue, only to be met with the velvety touch of her own.

Mabel’s hand came up, her fingers trailing along the side of his neck before she suddenly drew back, turning away so that he couldn’t see her face. He instantly felt as if he had been pushed off a cliff, but as their erratic breaths settled, she peeked back at him, and the wonder he saw in her expression made his insides knot.

It had been ages since a woman had caused such a reaction in him. While he had known his fair share of female companions, none had held this illicit hold over him. Mabel was forward and delicious, and while a part of him was very eager to continue to toy with her as much as she wanted, a deep knowing told him that he was entering dangerous waters.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “You’ve proved a very interesting fact.”

“Have I?” She nodded. “May I ask which you prefer then? An Englishman or a Frenchman?”

“You can ask, but I won’t answer.”

“You really won’t tell me?”

“Not tonight. But perhaps one day I will.”

“One day?”

“Yes. When I’m back in Philadelphia. I’ll write you.”

“You’d put an ocean between us before you told me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“Because I would rather be half a world away than be vulnerable in front of you.”

The honesty in her words caught him off guard. Although she was still smiling, there was something genuine in her face that gave him pause. She was being purposely flippant yet sincere as if the only way she could tell him these things about herself was if she added a dose of self-deprecating humor.

Yet it also made Derek wonder why being open was such a struggle for her. Leona wasn’t like that. Her sincerity came quickly. What had happened then to Mabel that made her so guarded? Did it have something to do with her marriage?

“I think I should get back to my room,” she said, shaking him from his thoughts. “And I think you should figure out some way to take Alfred away, maybe for a day or two. A little distance should prove… A good idea, no doubt.” Her words seemed to possess a double meaning, and Derek only nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Half horrified and half desperate to follow her, Derek let her leave. It had been shocking to realize that everything that had previously exasperated him about Mabel had switched to everything he suddenly found attractive. From her forwardness, to her sharp mind and tongue. And on top of all of that, there was a thread of tenderness that seemed to wrap around her, and it left Derek thinking of her well into the night.