A Regency Lady's Scandal: The Lady Gambles / The Lady Forfeits

Brought to task by this little baggage, by damn! ‘And what, pray, would you know about servants’ happiness in their work?’ Dominic decided to attack rather than defend, and was instantly rewarded with the flush that coloured her cheeks. ‘Unless, of course, you were once a servant yourself?’

Her chin rose. ‘And if I were?’

Then Dominic would be surprised. Very surprised! ‘I will know the story of your past one day, Caro,’ he warned softly as he moved to pour brandy into two glasses.

She eyed him coolly. ‘I doubt you would find it at all interesting, my lord.’

He moved to hand her one of the bulbous glasses. ‘Oh, I believe that I might …’

Rather than answer him, Caro took a sip of her brandy, her eyes widening as the fiery alcohol hit the back of her throat and completely took her breath away. ‘My goodness … !’ she gasped, her eyes watering as the liquid continued to burn a path down to her stomach.

Dominic eyed her with amusement. ‘I take it that you have never drunk brandy before?’

She placed the glass carefully down upon the table beside her. ‘It is dreadful stuff. Disgusting!’

‘I believe it may be something of an acquired taste.’ He took another appreciative sip.

Caro gave a delicate shudder, her stomach still feeling as if there were a fire lit inside it. ‘It is not one I ever intend to acquire, I assure you.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ he smiled. ‘There is nothing so unattractive to a man as an inebriated woman.’

Caro wrinkled her nose delicately. ‘Really? In what way?’

‘Never mind. Would you care for some tea, instead?’

‘That will not be necessary—oh. Do you play?’ Caro had taken the time to glance about the comfortable library as the two of them talked, spotting the chess pieces set up on the table beside the window.

Dominic followed her line of vision. ‘Do you?’

‘A little,’ she answered noncommittally.

His brows rose. ‘Really?’

‘You do not sound as if you believe me?’ Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

He shrugged. ‘In my experience, women do not usually play chess.’

‘Then I must be an unusual woman, because I believe I play rather well.’

Dominic didn’t doubt she was an unusual woman; she had been the source of one surprise after another since he had first met her.

‘Would you care for a game before dinner?’ she challenged lightly.

He grimaced. ‘I think not. I was taught by a grand master,’ he explained as Caro looked up at him enquiringly.

As the undisputed chess champion in her family and that included her father, she felt no hesitation in pitting her own considerable ability against Dominic Vaughn’s or anyone else’s. She was certainly a good enough player that she would not embarrass herself.

She stood up to cross over to the chess-table. The pieces appeared to have been smoothly carved out of black-and-white marble, the table inlaid with a board of that same beautiful marble. She glanced back to where Dominic still stood beside the fireplace. ‘Surely you cannot be refusing to play against me simply because I am a woman?’

‘Not at all,’ Dominic drawled. ‘I simply prefer to play against an opponent I consider to be my equal in the game.’

Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know I am not until we have played together?’

He quirked a brow. ‘A game in the nursery with your nanny does not equip you to play a champion.’

Caro bristled. ‘You are being presumptuous, sir!’

‘Concerning your game or the nanny?’

‘Both!’ Caro was all too well aware how determined Dominic was to learn more of her past. ‘But being a gentleman of the ton, perhaps you would find it more of a challenge if I were to propose a wager?’

He eyed her guardedly. ‘What sort of wager?’

‘Are you any further forwards in your enquiries concerning the attack upon Lord Thorne?’

Dominic’s expression became even more cautious. ‘I am hoping to receive news on the subject later today.’

‘But you are not sure?’ she pressed.

Dominic’s mouth tightened. ‘At this precise moment, no.’

Caro nodded briskly. ‘In that case, if I win, I would like for you to find me other accommodation sooner rather than later.’

Those silver eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘I do not have to state a reason, my lord, merely name a forfeit,’ she pointed out primly. ‘And if you win—’

‘Should I not be allowed to choose your own forfeit for myself?’ Dominic interjected softly, those silver eyes glittering in challenge.

She drew in a deep breath, not at all sure she had not ventured beyond her depth, after all; Dominic seemed utterly convinced that he would win any game of chess between them. But she could not back down now; she owed it to other females who played chess to defend their reputation against such obvious male bigotry! Besides which, she dearly wished to escape Blackstone House. And the disturbing Lord Dominic Vaughn … ‘Name your forfeit, my lord.’

‘Dominic.’

Her eyes widened. ‘That is your forfeit?’

‘That is only an aside request, Caro, and not the actual forfeit,’ he said. ‘I am sure you will not find it too difficult to do; you seem to have no trouble at all in calling me Dominic before launching yourself into my arms!’ Those silver-coloured eyes openly laughed at her now beneath long dark lashes.

Caro’s cheeks burned, not at all sure which occasion he was referring to—there had been so many, it seemed! ‘Very well, name my forfeit … Dominic.’

He seemed to give the matter some thought. ‘You will reveal something of your true self to me, perhaps?’

Caro looked at him warily. She knew of her own ability in playing the game of chess, but Dominic’s self-confidence could not be overlooked, either; he was so obviously sure of his ability that he had not even attempted to dispute the forfeit she would demand of him if she were the victor. To agree to tell him something of her true self was not something she had ever intended doing, either now or in the future. But then, neither did she intend allowing him to win this game of chess … ‘Very well, I agree.’ She gave a haughty inclination of her head.

Dominic lounged back in his chair, his expression one of boredom as the game began, sure that he was wasting both his own time and hers by playing at all.

After only a few more moves in the game he knew that victory was not going to be so easily won. Caro’s opening gambit had been an unusual one, and one Dominic had put down to her lack of experience in the game, but as he now studied the pieces on the board he saw that if the game continued on its current path, then she would have him in check for the first time in only three more moves.

‘Very good,’ he murmured appreciatively as he moved his king out of danger.

Caro could see that, instead of continuing to lounge back uninterestedly, she now had all of Dominic’s attention. ‘Perhaps we might play in earnest now?’ Her heart did a strange leap as he looked up to smile across the table at her. A warm and genuine smile that owed nothing to his usual expression of mockery or disdain, and instead leant a boyish charm to the usual severe austerity of his face.

‘I am looking forward to it, Caro,’ he replied, his attention now fully on the chessboard.

The maid, Mabel, had come in and attended to the fire, and Simpson had arrived to light several candles whilst the game continued, but neither opponent had even been aware of their presence as they concentrated completely on the chessboard between them.

It had become more than a game of chess to Caro; it had come to represent the inequality of the relationship that currently existed between the two of them. An equality that would not have existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Lady Caroline Copeland, but which most definitely existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Caro Morton. As such, it had become more than a battle of wills to Caro, and she played like a fiend in her determination not to be beaten.

Something that Dominic was well aware of as he studied her flushed and determined face between narrowed lids. Her eyes were more green than blue in their intensity, and the flush added colour to her otherwise porcelain white cheeks and down across the full swell of her breasts. Those rosy tips were no doubt deeper in colour, too, and were perhaps swollen and begging for the feel of his—

‘Check!’ Caro announced with barely concealed excitement.

Dominic’s attention was reluctant to return to the board rather than considering the taste of Caro’s breasts. He moved his own piece out of danger.

Irritation creased Caro’s brow before clearing again as she made another move. ‘Check.’

Dominic studied the board intently for several seconds. ‘I believe that we will only continue in this vein ad nauseam, and that this game, therefore, must be declared a draw.’

She eyed him mockingly. ‘Unless you were to concede?’

‘Or you were?’

She sat back in her chair. ‘I think not.’

‘Then we will call it a draw.’ Dominic said. ‘And hope that one of us will be the victor on the morrow.’

‘We could play again now—’

‘It is time for dinner, Caro,’ he murmured after a glance at the clock on the mantel, surprised to learn that a full two hours had passed since they had began to play. Surprised, also, at how much he had enjoyed those two hours.

Caro did not talk as she played, but neither was the silence awkward or uncomfortable. More, despite the fact they were in opposition to one another, it had been a companionable and enjoyable silence. And he, Dominic, decided as the realisation caused him to rise abruptly to his feet, was not a man to be domesticated to his fireside by any woman. Least of all a woman who steadfastly refused to reveal anything of her true self to him!

‘Does this mean that we both concede our forfeit or that neither of us does?’ she asked.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back to where Caro had now risen gracefully from the table. ‘Stalemate would seem to imply that neither of us do,’ he replied. ‘As we are so late I suggest that neither of us bothers to change before dinner.’

‘Oh, good.’ She gracefully crossed the room on slippered feet as she confided, ‘I am so ravenously hungry.’

Dominic found himself laughing despite his earlier uncomfortable thoughts concerning domesticity. ‘Has no one ever told you that ladies are supposed to have the appetite and delicacy of a sparrow?’ he drawled.

‘If they did, then I have forgotten,’ Caro retorted as they strolled through the hallway and into the small candlelit dining room together, another fire alight in the hearth there to warm the room.

‘I take it you are now, out of pure contrariness, about to show that you have the appetite and delicacy of an eagle.’ Dominic pulled her chair back, lingering behind her a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary as he enjoyed the floral perfume of her hair.

Caro, in the act of draping her napkin across her knee, paused to give the matter some thought before answering. As far as she was aware, she had eaten nothing so far today. ‘Perhaps a raven.’ Not a good comparison, she realised with an inner wince, when the colour of Dominic’s hair reminded her of a raven’s wing …

Dominic was chuckling softly as he took his seat opposite hers at the small round table. Not so intimate that their knees actually touched beneath it, but certainly enough to create an atmosphere Caro could have wished did not exist.

She ignored Dominic to smile at Simpson as he entered the room with a soup tureen and began to serve their first course. It was a delicious watercress soup that Caro enjoyed so much that the butler served her a second helping.

‘As I said, an eagle …’ Dominic muttered so that only she could hear, wincing slightly, but not uttering a sound, as she kicked him on the shin beneath the table with one slipper-covered foot; no doubt it had hurt her more than it had hurt him!

He inwardly approved of the fact that she made no effort to hide her appetite; he had spent far too many evenings with women who picked at their food, and in doing so totally ruined his own appetite. In contrast to those other women, Caro ate just as heartily of the fish course, and her roast beef and vegetables, all followed by some chocolate confection that she ate with even more relish than the previous courses.

So much so that Dominic found himself watching her rather than attempting to eat his own dessert. ‘Perhaps you would care to eat mine, too?’ He pushed the untouched glass bowl towards her.

Her eyes lit up, before she gave a reluctant shake of her head. ‘I really should not …’

‘I believe it is a little late for a show of maidenly delicacy,’ Dominic teased as he placed the bowl in front of her before standing up to pour himself a glass of the brandy Caro had so obviously disliked earlier. He sat down again to study her as he swirled the brandy round in the glass, easily noting the colour in her cheeks. ‘I was commenting on the subject of food, of course …’

That colour deepened. ‘If you are going to start being ungentlemanly again—’

‘I was not aware that in your eyes I had ever stopped?’ Dominic said, raising dark, mocking brows.

Perhaps not, Caro conceded, but there had been something of a ceasefire during and since their game of chess. In fact, she had believed she had even seen a grudging respect in those silver-coloured eyes when the game had ended in a draw. ‘What shall we do with the rest of the evening?’ She opted for a safer subject.

‘I, my dear Caro, am going out—’

‘Out?’ She frowned after a glance at the gold clock on the mantel. ‘But it is almost eleven o’clock.’

He gave an inclination of his head. ‘And if Nick’s were open, you would still have a second performance of the evening to get through.’

True. But having spent most of the day sleeping, Caro was not ready to retire to her bedchamber just yet. ‘Are you going to see Lord Thorne? If so, perhaps I might come with you?’

‘No, on both counts, Caro,’ Dominic said; engrossed as he had been in their game of chess, and much as he had enjoyed his dinner, he had nevertheless been continually aware of the fact that the news he had been waiting for concerning Nicholas Brown had not been delivered, leaving him no choice but to now instigate his own plans for the evening. ‘I have already visited Osbourne once today, and doubt that a second visit this late in the day would be welcome.’ Mrs Gertrude Wilson would most definitely frown upon it! ‘And where I am going tonight you definitely cannot follow.’

‘Oh.’

Dominic quirked one eyebrow as he saw how flushed Caro’s cheeks had become. ‘Oh?’

Caro frowned her irritation, with her own naïvety as much as with Dominic Vaughn. Just because he kissed her whenever the mood took him did not mean that he did not have a woman he occasionally spent the night with. That he was not going out in a few minutes to spend the rest of the night in bed with such a woman!

Strange how much even the idea of that should seem so distasteful to her …

She had, Caro realised in dismay, enjoyed Dominic’s company this evening. The verbal exchanges. The challenge of trying to best him at chess. Even the teasing in regard to her appetite. She now found it more than unpleasant to be made aware of the possibility he might be spending the rest of the night in bed with some faceless woman.

Which was utterly ridiculous!

She stood up abruptly. ‘In that case, with your permission, I believe I will go back into the library and choose a book to read.’

It wasn’t too difficult for Dominic to guess what Caro’s thoughts had been during these last few minutes of silence: that she imagined it was his intention to spend the night in some willing woman’s bed. Much as the idea appealed—it had been some time since Dominic had bedded a woman; those few unsatisfactory forays with Caro did not count when they had left him feeling more physically frustrated than ever—it did not actually enter into his plans for the rest of the night.

No, Dominic’s immediate destination had absolutely nothing to do with bedding a woman and more to do with personally paying a visit to Nicholas Brown … ‘Do not bother to wait up for me, Caro. I expect to be very late,’ he said after he emptied the last of the brandy before placing the glass down upon the table.

Her cheeks were flushed with temper. ‘As if I have any interest in what time it will be when—or even if—you should return!’

Dominic chuckled softly as he strolled over to the door. ‘Sweet dreams, Caro.’

‘As long as they are not of you then I am sure they will be!’ she snapped.

He paused in the doorway to glance back at her. ‘I very much doubt that I shall ever have the dubious pleasure of featuring in any young girl’s dreams,’ he said drily before closing the door softly behind him.

Dominic could not be sure, but he thought he might have heard the tinkling sound of glass shattering on the other side of that closed door …

Chapter Eight

It was some hours later when Dominic finally returned to Blackstone House, and he could not help smiling slightly as the attentive Simpson opened the door for him as if it were three o’clock in the afternoon rather than the morning.

‘Mrs Morton is in the library, my lord,’ the butler advised softly.

Dominic came to an abrupt halt halfway across the marble entrance hall and turned back sharply. ‘What the devil is she still doing in there?’

The butler turned from locking and bolting the front door. ‘I believe she fell asleep whilst reading, my lord. She looked so peaceful, I did not like to wake her.’

Dominic felt no such qualms as he glanced in the direction of the library, his expression grim. ‘Get yourself to bed, man. I will deal with Mrs Morton.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ The elderly man gave a stiff bow. ‘I—I believe that Mrs Morton may have been upset earlier, my lord.’ he added as Dominic walked in the direction of the library.

Dominic was slower to turn this time. ‘Upset?’

‘I believe she was crying, my lord.’ Simpson looked pained.

What the hell! The last thing he felt like dealing with tonight was a woman’s tears. Or, as was usually the case, having to guess the reason for those tears. Whatever could have happened to reduce the indomitable Caro to tears? Perhaps the danger he had warned her of had become all too real to her once she was left alone for the evening?

Whatever the reason it gave him a distinctly unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach to think of Caro alone and upset …

He could see the evidence of her tears on the pallor of her cheeks once he had entered the library and stood looking down at her as she lay curled up asleep in the wing-backed armchair beside the fire, the book she had been reading still lying open upon her knees.

He was also struck by how incredibly young and vulnerable she looked without the light of battle in her eyes and the flush of temper upon her cheeks. So young and vulnerable, in fact, that Dominic questioned how she could ever have survived her first week in London without falling victim to some disaster.

Not that he imagined for one moment that Caro would have succumbed quietly—she did not seem to do anything quietly!—but she wasn’t physically strong enough to fight off a male predator, and her youth and lack of a protector would have made her easy prey for the seedy underworld of a city such as this one. As it was, he had no doubt that Caro had Drew Butler’s visible protection to thank for her physical well being this past week, at least.

If Dominic had needed any reassurance that he had done the right thing in now placing Caro in his protection, then he had received it this evening when he’d visited Nicholas Brown at his home in Cheapside.

The bastard son of a titled gentleman and some long-forgotten prostitute, Brown, whilst now giving the appearance of wealth, had in fact grown up on the streets of London, and was as hardened and tough as any of the cut-throats that walked those darkened streets. A toughness he had taken advantage of by building himself a lucrative business empire that often catered to the less acceptable excesses of the ton; Nick’s had been the more respectable of the three gambling clubs the man owned.

Within minutes of Dominic being admitted to Brown’s house earlier, the other man had had the unmitigated gall to offer to allow the masked lady to sing at one of his other clubs, until such time as Nick’s reopened. An offer Dominic had felt no hesitation in refusing on Caro’s behalf!

Looking down at her now as she slept the sleep of the innocent, he could only shudder at the thought of her ever being exposed to the vicious and seedy underbelly of Nicholas Brown’s world. At the same time Dominic feared that Brown, with his many spies in the London underworld, might already know that the young woman now staying with him and masquerading as his widowed cousin was that same masked lady …

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