Regency Gamble: A Lady Risks All / A Lady Dares

The Golden Rooster was at the other end of town, closer to the fairground than the quay like the Millstream Inn, and the fair crowd had definitely gathered there. At the back of the room was the billiards table. Greer and Lockhart parted ways, Lockhart heading for the bar and Greer for the table with Lockhart’s advice in his ear: watch first, then play slow and easy, nothing fancy.

Watching helped settle his nerves and misgivings. These were regular men, not all that different from those he played in the army. They seemed cognisant of what they were doing and the attenuate risks. For a while, players came and went, the winner of a match earning the right to stay at the table and play the next challenger and the atmosphere was congenial. Then, a cocky braggart of a man stepped up and won a few games. He was not a kind winner and Greer felt his blood starting to rise. He wanted to beat this man. When the chance came to play, he took it, hefting the ash cue in his hand with grim determination.

He didn’t stay grim for long. It felt good to play and in spite of the worn condition of the table, the balls rolled predictably. He played the braggart again and again, defeat egging the man on until he had to withdraw, his ego and coins spent. The crowd around Greer had grown with a rising raucousness, spurred on by Greer’s victories against a disliked opponent. He caught a glimpse of Lockhart shouldering his way into the crowd.

‘Who else will play?’ Greer called out in friendly tones. Now that the braggart had been routed, they could get back to the business of fun. The crowd parted and a young man, younger than he, emerged. He was tall and sturdily built. His face was tanned, his eyes merry, shoulders broad and thick from hauling nets. A fisherman, a local. A few men clapped the young man on the shoulder and Greer surmised from the comments that the young man was something of a town favourite, newly married with a baby on the way. His name was Leander and he blushed ever so slightly and proudly when the men teased him about Ellie. ‘Finally let you out of the house, has she?’ they joked.

Leander brushed off the comments. ‘Never mind them,’ he said good-naturedly to Greer. ‘They’re just jealous I’m married to the prettiest girl in town.’ Most definitely a town favourite, Greer thought as the men laughed.

And a decent player too, Greer amended a few games later. They’d played four games, each winning two and money exchanging hands on an equal basis. Lockhart was frowning in the crowd. Greer would have to step up his game. It would be too much for Leander. If Leander was smart, he’d recognise the superior skill and walk away. At this point, Leander wasn’t out any serious money and he could stop whenever he wanted.

Conscience subdued momentarily, Greer took the next three games. Leander was getting frustrated. Greer hoped the young man would stop and call it a night. Instead Leander said, ‘Double or nothing on the next game.’ There were a few cautious murmurings from the men beside him, warning him to reconsider.

‘You played well, Leander, let it be,’ one man suggested with an arm about his shoulders, hoping to lead him away. But Leander was young and typically hotheaded where his pride was concerned.

‘Think about Ellie and the baby,’ another said. ‘You’ll need that money for the doctor later.’

If it had been up to him, Greer would have put down the cue and walked away, claiming tiredness, but it wasn’t up to him. Lockhart was standing there, wanting him to go on and Leander would not back down. Between them, they’d taken away one choice, leaving Greer with only one other avenue of recourse. Three shots in, he scratched, potting the cue ball along with his own and forfeited the game, followed by what he hoped was a sincere show of disbelief.

Greer put down the cue and handed the money over to a beaming Leander. ‘Go home to your wife,’ he said in low tones, and he was sure the men present would make that happen. Some of them clapped him on the back, as he made his way to the front. Others offered to buy him a drink, but he refused. Lockhart had gone on ahead and would be waiting outside. He wouldn’t be pleased and Greer needed to face him.

‘You had him,’ Lockhart began as they walked back to the Millstream. ‘You were doing brilliantly. You ousted the braggart, showed yourself worthy of playing the local best, got the local favourite to come out and play, worked him up to where he offered double or nothing and then you let him go. What were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking he didn’t have the money to lose.’ Greer didn’t back down from his choice. ‘He’s a fisherman with a pregnant wife at home.’

‘Maybe.’ Lockhart shrugged in the darkness. ‘Perhaps they’re all in it together and that’s the story they tell outsiders.’

Greer grimaced. He hadn’t thought of that, probably because it seemed a bit ludicrous. ‘I doubt it.’

‘Still, no one put a gun to his head,’ Lockhart argued.

Greer passed him the original sum Lockhart had given him earlier that night. ‘What do you care? Your stake is intact and a little more. You didn’t lose anything tonight. My choice cost you nothing.’

‘Not yet.’ Lockhart sent him a dubious sidelong glance. ‘Lord save me from do-gooders.’ He took the money and tossed Greer a half-sovereign when they reached the entrance to the Millstream. ‘There’s your take of the winnings tonight: ten whole shillings, barely the price of a bottle of Holland’s Geneva.’ Lockhart gave a derisive chuckle. Greer understood the insult. Holland’s Geneva was a popular, but not high-quality, drink, definitely not the drink of a gentleman used to a superior claret or brandy.

‘Certainly not enough to keep a woman like Mercedes in trinkets and silks,’ Lockhart added astutely as they stepped inside.

‘I’m not looking to keep a woman like Mercedes or any other. I believe I’ve mentioned as much before,’ Greer growled.

‘Really? You could have fooled me today.’ Lockhart chuckled. ‘Well, no matter. She’s in the parlour, remaking a dress if I am any judge of character.’ Lockhart nodded towards the private room they’d used for dinner where a light still burned. ‘I’m for bed. We’ll head out in the morning and try again tomorrow.’

Chapter Seven (#u905d9541-109c-5c0e-b782-f813e2a4252c)

Gentlemen were the very devil with their principles and codes! Lockhart stretched out on his bed, hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, his mind assessing the events of the day. The Captain had lived up to his suspicions, or down to them depending on how one looked at it. Barrington had gone soft at the critical moment.

It wasn’t the money he minded losing. These stakes had been small. But what if they hadn’t been? What if Barrington chose his conscience over him when real money was on the line? Mercedes would have to be the one to fix that particular flaw. Barrington had not been receptive to his own words of wisdom on that point tonight. Perhaps Mercedes would have more luck.

There was no ‘perhaps’ about it. He’d seen the way the Captain had looked at Mercedes from the start. Mercedes would be his insurance on this. What the Captain wouldn’t do for him, the man would do for Mercedes. When it came to charms, he simply couldn’t compete with his daughter where the Captain was concerned. That was one area Mercedes had an advantage on him.

He did wonder how reciprocal those charms were. To what degree did Mercedes return the Captain’s attentions? He’d seen the two of them at the fair, strolling the booths arm in arm and that telling moment by the horses at the end. If he’d interrupted a little later there would have actually been something to interrupt. And that bauble. Sheer genius on the Captain’s part.

Oh, that had been nicely played, although in all probability the Captain had likely meant whatever sentiments went with it. Men like him usually did. Lockhart chuckled in the dark. A gentleman’s principles might be sticky wickets when it came to billiards, but they could be useful things indeed when it came to a lady’s honour. There were worse people who could court his daughter. He’d seen them and not one of them was good enough for Mercedes with her hot temper and passions.

Mercedes would have to be careful. It would be too easy to fall for a man like the Captain, all handsome manners and good breeding, the very best of English manhood. But she would never fit into Barrington’s world and he would make her unhappy in the end. In the interim, it wouldn’t do to have Mercedes pick the Captain over him. There could be no running off with the Captain on the grounds of false promises the Captain had no intention of keeping. Of course, she could marry the Captain. He wouldn’t stand in the way of that, but he would tolerate nothing less.

Mercedes could be managed. He’d saved her from the consequences of her impetuous nature once before and that deserved her loyalty. He would remind her of that if need be. Still, he wasn’t worried. Mercedes had been down that road before. She’d be wary about trusting the Captain outright.

Lockhart laughed out loud. If he and Mercedes played their cards right, he’d come out of this with a protégé and a son-in-law. He’d give anything to be a fly on the wall in that parlour right now. If Mercedes was smart, she’d give the Captain a piece of her mind and then a piece of her heart.

Mercedes knew something had gone wrong the moment Greer stepped into the parlour. ‘What happened?’ She could guess what it was, though. Her father’s competitive streak had run into Greer’s principles. Nonetheless, she tucked her needle into the fabric and stilled her hands, giving Greer all her attention.

‘This is not what I signed on for—fleecing locals.’ Greer fairly spat the words at her in his frustration.

‘You were warned,’ she said evenly. ‘The night we played for the road, you said you were always serious about money. I thought you understood what that meant.’ In moments like this, she was convinced men were just overgrown boys, squabbling over principles instead of toy boats. A woman was a far more practical creature. A woman had to be.

Greer pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Since when has “come bash around England and generate interest in the billiards tournament” been synonymous with taking money off unsuspecting local players who don’t have any idea who they’re up against?’

Mercedes set down her sewing and rose. ‘Listen to me. If you’d come down off your moral high horse, you’d see the wisdom of it. You need to practise. You can’t simply walk into an elite subscription room in Bath, or a gentleman’s private home, and expect to be perfect without practice. A real player knows “practice” means more than shooting balls around the baize. It means knowing how to work the room to maximum advantage. Places like Bosham are where we practise that skill before we try it out for real in places that count, places that don’t give you a second chance.’

Greer glared at her. ‘What an absolute delight you are. You really know how to cut a man down.’

‘Because you came looking for sympathy and I gave you truth?’ Mercedes stood her ground. His words hurt, especially after the fun of the afternoon and the flirting in the carriage that morning. But she had a job to do, for her father and for herself. Neither job involved making friends with Greer Barrington, no matter how enticing that option appeared on occasion.

‘Lesson one, Captain, is to separate your feelings from your pocket. A good gambler is not emotional about money.’

‘I’m not,’ he snapped. ‘You know very well I don’t wager what I cannot afford.’

‘Your money or theirs,’ Mercedes amended. ‘Emotions go both ways. Your problem is that you get emotional about their money.’ She paused, letting the words sink in. ‘And maybe you should,’ she added.

‘Maybe I should what?’ Greer challenged.

‘Maybe you should play with what you can’t afford to lose. You might try harder to win.’ Mercedes held his gaze, refusing to back down. He had to learn this most primary of lessons before they could move on. A player who could not set himself apart from the money would never reach his potential. She’d seen it happen too many times.

Greer blew out a breath and she had the sense she’d pushed him too far. ‘I can’t believe you’re siding with him.’

The words sliced her as surely as any blade. If he only knew! She wasn’t on her father’s side. She wasn’t on Greer’s side. She was simply on her side, trying to make a place in a world that insisted there wasn’t one for a female. Her own anger began to spill. ‘I’m not siding with him. I’m trying to save you from yourself. Or maybe you don’t care. Not all of us have the home farm waiting for us if this doesn’t work out.’

Damn him and his high-road principles. She didn’t want to need him, but the reality behind all her bravado about emotional detachment was stark and simple. He was her chance. Her success was tied to his although she dare not tell him that.

‘I must apologise.’ Greer clicked his heels together and executed a stiff bow, his tone just as rigid. ‘I’ve taken my frustration out on you. You are merely the messenger of unpleasant news.’ He reached out and covered the star charm where it lay against her neck. His hand was warm on her skin, the gesture intimate, his fingers achingly near her breast. He smiled. ‘We’re in this together.’

Until it’s time not to be. Mercedes masked the self-serving thought with a smile. She needed to exit the room. The atmosphere between them was charged with a new emotion more reminiscent of their unfinished business from the fairground.

‘We’re not meant to be at each other’s throats,’ she offered by way of acknowledging his apology. If she didn’t leave soon, this conversation would veer into territory best left unexplored for the moment until she could make her mind up about the handsome officer—was he to be more than a protégé to her? But her feet stayed rooted to the ground.

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ He raised a hand to the back of her head, trapping her, drawing her closer, a secret smile on his lips. ‘Being at each other’s throats isn’t all bad.’ He took her mouth in a hard kiss, letting his lips wander along her jaw and down the length of her throat, teasing her with a flick of his tongue here, a nip of his teeth there, until he captured her mouth again, challenging her to a heated duel of tongues.

‘Or being in them,’ she managed between kisses. This was new territory indeed! Usually she was the aggressor. It was what she preferred. It reduced the opportunity to be taken by surprise. More importantly, it let her drive the encounter. But it was very apparent that Greer was driving this one.