Page 4 of A Reckless Wager
Now it was Pansy’s turn to laugh. “I don’t intend to fail. I know what I saw. My eyes may be old and tired, but there was interest and attraction. One didn’t need to see to feel the vibrations coming off those two.”
4
Knightly Manor
Sussex
* * *
They arrived amongst a throng of carriages. Aunt Clara didn’t believe in traveling lightly; Georgiana didn’t think she would use most of her belongings in the next two months while they stayed at Knightly Manor, but one never knew.
Knightly Manor was Georgian-style in design. Stately, with twenty bedrooms for guests, not including family quarters. Several drawing rooms and a midsized ballroom on the main floor that Georgiana couldn’t remember being used during her lifetime. Until now.
Excitement fluttered inside her belly. Not necessarily because her days and nights would be filled with more entertainment—she was bored to tears with socializing—but because she could ride to her heart’s content. Her papa brought her horse to the stables along with her riding clothes. Even if she shocked their guests, she planned on entering the hunt her papa planned. She had pin money, so wagering was not a problem. And if she were wagered against, her pin money would increase considerably. If her papa was to be believed, she rode and shot better than most men. Time to put his words to the test. However, before their hunting party, Georgiana had a fortnight to occupy her time.
The time was spent visiting the same people they visited in London. Same tea, biscuits, and conversation. The only difference was the residences and drawing room décor. Many had townhomes in Bath, five miles from their home, so much time was wasted traveling back and forth between Bath and Knightly Manor. Most days, two trips. One in the morning and once at night. Georgiana wouldn’t lie; she had enjoyed her time in the pump rooms. She sat off in a corner, sipping restorative water and watching who came and went. After a sennight, she told herself she wasn’t looking for Viscount Blackstone; that he didn’t interest her. That she hadn’t found his behavior odd the last time she’d spoken with him. The fact that he still intrigued her was unsettling.
Then one afternoon, he appeared in riding clothes with two gentlemen she recognized: Mr. Percy Bedford and the Earl of Hartley. Usually, where one went, all three went. They talked amongst themselves while acknowledging the people around them. Georgiana’s heart sank. Would he ever look her way?
Just about giving up, she glanced one last time his way and all the air escaped her lungs, leaving her breathless. Suddenly panicked and not knowing what to do, she jumped up, walked towards the water table, and poured herself more water. Just what she didn’t need, as a visit to the water closet was now necessary.
“Lady Georgiana.” Blackstone stepped up beside her and grabbed the goblet from her hand. “Let me help you.”
“Thank you.” What else could she say? Why, Viscount Blackstone, I’m perfectly capable of pouring my water?
“My pleasure.” Blackstone handed her a half-filled water goblet. “I’m looking forward to spending time at your family’s manor house. I heard your father has brought in grouse for the hunt. It should be interesting to see how that goes.” He smiled at her, his brown eyes warming her heart. “Would you care to stroll around the room?”
Stupefied at his request, it took her a moment before she replied, “Yes, thank you.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he led them away.
“I also heard that you are quite the rider and huntress yourself. Will you be joining the hunt?”
Inquisitive eyes looked at her now, and her pulse jumped. He was so devastatingly handsome, and when he concentrated his attention solely on her she suddenly had trouble thinking…and speaking. “Nothing would make me happier than my papa allowing me to join in the hunt. But I’m trying not to get my hopes up. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the guests or cause a scandal.” Quiet male laugher drifted her way, and her skin tingled.
“I’d relish some excitement for a change. Shall we make a wager?”
“A wager?” she queried.
“Yes. Don’t play coy and tell me women don’t wager, because I have it on good authority that they do.”
“So I hear. I’ve never participated myself, but there’s always a first time. Will it involve money, and will we keep this wager clandestine? To make it even more exciting?” Good Lord, she was flirting with the viscount and loving every second of it. Her feet barely touched the ground and her head tingled, making the room sway slightly. Thank goodness he was much more relaxed than the last time they were in each other’s company.
Pausing, he leaned close and whispered for her ears only, “I think we should keep it to ourselves. I wouldn’t want your father to find out and get upset. Besides, I think most everyone would frown upon a supposed gentleman making a monetary wager with a young, unmarried lady.”
They began to stroll, and her steps faltered. When their conversation started, she’d planned on a money wager. As their conversation progressed, she wanted something else. Another new something she’d never done. Did she dare shock him and speak her mind? Had the healing waters turned her into a courageous woman? Perhaps that person hid beneath the surface and waited until the most inopportune time to emerge. Or, more importantly, waited until the proper gentleman came along. “I was thinking something along the lines of a…kiss.”
The clearing of Blackstone’s throat had her muscles tensing up. Two seconds, ten seconds…still waiting. When twenty seconds must have ticked by she went to remove her hand, when his hand covered hers.
“Easy. I wasn’t expecting that. Let me get this correct. You want to bet me a kiss. And what preciously is the wager?”
Instant relaxing of her muscles. So he wasn’t against betting. “Hmm, I was thinking whoever kills the most grouse.”
Booming laughter escaped his mouth, which he quickly covered with his free hand. His eyes locked on hers. “Oh, you are serious? Well then, Lady Georgiana, I bet you a kiss that I can shoot more grouse than you.”
“So let me understand,” she began. “If you win the bet, I kiss you. What if I win? What do you forfeit?”
His sly smile had her insides humming as he breathed, “I kiss you like the French kiss.”
She gasped. She tried not to, but it happened.
