Page 9 of A Reckless Wager
“We don’t want him to start, now, do we?”
They stepped back into the drawing room to her father talking about the hunt on the morrow. On a board he had a list of participating names, broken into pairs. She was afraid to focus on the words. Afraid her name would be missing.
“Looks like you got your wish,” Blackstone murmured. “Your name is the last one on the list.”
Focusing on said list, she smiled. Then frowned. Her papa had paired the riders up and matched her with the duke. Did he still hope to ignite a match between them? Hadn’t he listened to her when she told him she was interested in Blackstone? She would have to find time to corner him privately and express her disappointment. Her heart hurt. How could she ask him to change the pairing, when she was fortunate to be in the hunt? She couldn’t. She would pair with the duke and make the best of it. But how would they decide the winner of the wager?
“I can hear the inner workings of your mind,” the viscount said. “You are wondering how a winner of our wager will be determined. It does make it tricky with you paired with Amberville, and me with your father. Interesting pairing, I must say.” He lowered his head to whisper into her ear, causing her to shiver with awareness. His unique scent and overall being encompassed her completely. It felt beautiful and frightening simultaneously. “Is he hoping to procure a match between you and his esteemed friend, the duke?”
“I…I…don’t know what you mean.”
She knew he didn’t believe her ignorance of the subject by his sudden stiffness and retreat. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was interested in Amberville.
“No matter. May the best man win.” He inclined his head. “I look forward to tonight’s entertainment.”
Without another word he left her standing there, trying to hide the shock on her face for being dismissed so abruptly.
Perhaps he was worried about Amberville? In truth, he should only be concerned if he was planning to wed her. Her heart skipped a beat. If only.
Chapter Six
Dinner that evening was a formal affair marking the start of the week-long hunt and festivities. Georgiana sat between Amberville and Blackstone, with Lady Osborne opposite her. Lady Osborne ignored dinner table etiquette and spoke across the table, trying to engage the duke in conversation. Georgiana knew what she was doing. Distracting Amberville so she and Blackstone could converse. It was plain as the aqua turban covering Lady Osborne’s hair that she and Blackstone were Lady Osborne’s attempted match for this month.
It was almost laughable when Georgiana witnessed Lady Sewell try to distract Blackstone. She was trying to keep the match from happening. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of being someone’s project.
“Lady Georgiana,” Amberville said as the first course cleared, “I look forward to tomorrow’s hunt. I believe with our hunting skills we will be the clear winners.”
Blackstone covered up a snort with his hand. “Sorry. I rather think the earl and I have a good chance of winning. I’m rather looking forward to the prize.”
Heat scorched her cheeks at the mention of what prize he spoke about—a kiss. There was also a money prize for the winners, but she didn’t think that’s what he referred to.
Honestly, Georgiana could not remember anything about the wager except for the kiss. If she won the hunt, did she receive a kiss? Or did he receive a kiss if he won? A French kiss. What did that mean? Did it matter? Either way, she expected to be kissed by the viscount by tomorrow.
“I believe the teams are evenly matched,” she said a little breathlessly.
Later, in the drawing room, which had been set up as a card room, Phillip sat at a table with Georgiana, Amberville, and Miss Emma Montgomery, playing whist. He was losing. His mind was not on his cards but on Georgiana. On finding a way to get her alone tonight and perhaps cash in on the wager early. For some reason, her lips distracted him until he finally threw his cards on the table and intoned, “I’m out. Excuse me.”
Existing the French doors into the dimly lit gardens, Philip inhaled the first natural breath he’d taken all night. Bloody hell, Georgiana had his insides twisted up in knots and his lungs refusing to work correctly. How had she gotten under his skin so quickly? And seeing how affectionately Amberville treated her, and her in kind, had him seeing red. He’d not thought he had competition in winning her affections, and he didn’t like it. A duke against a viscount? The duke had an edge.
He lit a cheroot and enjoyed the calming effect it had on him.
“You left rather suddenly.” He recognized her soft voice without looking.
The calm didn’t last. “I was bored.”
“Playing cards?”
“Not everyone loves cards,” he grumbled.
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
He spun around and reached for her hand. His heart sank when all his hand touched was air. “No. Please don’t. I’d love your company.”
She moved closer to him so they stood side by side. Georgiana’s skirts touched his legs. The connection soothed him from something he didn’t know he needed soothing from. Except he was jealous of the easy friendship she shared with Amberville. The man would be perfect for her, and he hated that. “Would you care for a stroll through the gardens? They look passably lit.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t trust himself to offer his arm, so instead he motioned for her to begin, and he fell in step beside her. “The weather is warm this evening, and the sky is full of stars.” Could he sound any more pathetic?
