Читать книгу Regency Affairs Part 1: Books 1-6 Of 12 - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 63

He needed her. That much was clear and nothing else. Greer would bet she was feeling something of the same. It was as good an explanation as any as to why Mercedes had elected to ride inside the carriage, alone, on a splendid morning as they pulled out of Bath. Lockhart had thought nothing of her decision. He’d dismissed the choice as female foibles. ‘She wants to collect herself after saying farewell to all of her friends.’

To be sure, there’d been tearful goodbyes on the steps of the terrace house this morning. A large group of women had turned out to see Mercedes off. Mercedes had energised Bath. Her presence would be missed. Elise Sutton had hugged Mercedes tightly, whispered something in her ear and promised to see her in Brighton later in the summer. But Greer doubted such farewells had moved Mercedes as much as they had moved the women who gave them. They hadn’t spent the night in a brothel ‘settling things’, to use Mrs Booth’s phrase.

Settling wasn’t the word Greer would use to describe what had happened in that room either. Unsettling was more apt. Bedding Mercedes had been an extraordinary moment out of time. If he could just leave it at that—an experience fomented by circumstance—things would be fine. But he couldn’t leave it as a singular event and simply forget it. He’d had a few moments like that in his past, enough to know this wasn’t one of them. Many officers did. Alone and far from home, he’d sought a night or two of temporary company from women whose names and faces had long since ceased to feature in his memory.

Such behaviour wasn’t his usual habit, though, and he normally regretted it afterwards. Unlike many of his acquaintances, he’d never made a practice of treating sex as a mere physical exercise. He preferred more meaningful, long-term affaires. Although he’d had lovers over the years, he did not take just anyone to his bed for the sheer sake of a partner, which was why the incident with Mercedes last night had been so unsettling.

Those were poor choices of words. Incident? What had happened could not be classified as a mere instance. Had been? Still was. Once they’d returned home, he’d slept restlessly for the remainder of the night. From the dark shadows under Mercedes’s eyes this morning, she had too. All of which proved that last night had meant far more to them than either had intended. It wasn’t the culmination of a month’s worth of flirtation. It was the beginning of something new.

Lockhart brought his horse up alongside, cheerful and oblivious to the dilemmas running through Greer’s head. ‘We’re about three days out of Birmingham.’ He was already planning the next stage. ‘It’s not a pretty city, but it’s an interesting one. We’ll only stay a few days, long enough to spread word about the tournament and whet a few appetites. There are adventurers in Birmingham—our kind of people, Captain.’

Greer cringed at the reference to ‘our kind of people’. Lockhart was an intriguing man, to be sure, and there was much to admire about his journey in life. But it wasn’t Greer’s life and it wasn’t Greer’s journey. They had billiards in common and this brief interlude was a fascinating departure from Greer’s regular patterns. But beyond that? The more he knew about Allen Lockhart, the harder it was to respect him. He and Lockhart operated by very different codes of ethics.

He’d watched Lockhart work the men in Bath, dining out on his celebrity status, entertaining in lavish style. It was a fascinating study in human nature. Lockhart had made those men believe they possessed a potential they didn’t truly have and Lockhart knew it. Greer didn’t want to be that sort of a man, a confidence man, a hustler.

‘Do you think many of the gentlemen in Bath will come to Brighton?’ Greer voiced his thoughts out loud.

Lockhart nodded. ‘Yes. A few of them will play in the tournament. Perhaps Ogilvy will play. But most of them will come to watch, which is exactly what we want. The presence of peers will lend a certain cachet to the event and they’ll bring money to town.’

He gave Greer a shrewd look. ‘Money is good for everyone. All the businesses will prosper. There won’t be an empty inn within five miles of Brighton. People need food and drink and subsidiary entertainment. And …’ he paused here, drawing out the word for emphasis, ‘those gentlemen might not play in the tournament, but they will play their own informal games in the subscription rooms around town. Everyone will benefit,’ he repeated with a smile.

Lockhart lowered his voice although there was no one around on the empty road. ‘Remember this—when the time comes, there’s often more money to be made outside the venue than in. The tournament is just the draw, just the lure to bring in the money. The real money will be made elsewhere.’ Lockhart laughed. ‘I can see I’ve stunned you. It’s not what you expected?’

Frankly, it wasn’t. He’d taken this tour far too literally. He’d thought Lockhart had been looking for players when, in reality, Lockhart had been looking for spectators. Lockhart hadn’t solely been out drumming up games when he went on ahead. He’d been drumming up business too. He’d probably been making arrangements for ale and food to be brought in. He’d buy it cheap from country vendors who had no way to get their goods beyond the local markets of their villages and then sell it high in Brighton, a simple case of supply and demand.

Lockhart laughed. ‘Why would I need players, Captain, when I have you? You’re my man. I’d back you against anyone in England, and in July I will.’ He favoured Greer with a warm smile. ‘You’re one of the finest natural players of the game I’ve ever seen, Captain. You remind me of myself when I was younger, only you’ve got something I never had, something intangible that I can’t name. But all the same, I know you’ve got it.’

It was elaborate flattery and Greer knew he should be wary of it, but it was nice to hear anyway, a type of reinforcement that he could make his own way if he chose. Lockhart was going on about Birmingham, the canals and the pioneering spirit of the city. Greer let him. Lockhart was good at one-sided conversation. He had other things to think about, like what to say to Mercedes when they stopped for lunch. There’d been no time to speak that morning amid the bustle of last-minute packing but they needed to talk, the sooner the better. A man didn’t make love to a woman and then pretend it hadn’t happened.

The northern roads towards Birmingham were well populated with villages and it was no trouble to find a promising inn for lunch. The inn Lockhart chose had plank tables set up outside for guests to enjoy the weather and pretty flower boxes spilling with spring blooms, hanging from its windows.

Mercedes was reserved during lunch. Lockhart tried to draw her out with talk of her new friends. ‘Elise Sutton’s father has a new design for a yacht. I’m thinking of investing. He means to race the prototype next year. If it works out, everyone will want his plans.’

Mercedes smiled at her father’s effort. ‘Elise works very closely with him.’ Greer could hear the carefully veiled barb.

Lockhart reached across the table and tapped Mercedes on the nose in a fatherly gesture. ‘That gives us something else in common with them, my dear. It’s a smart man who knows the value of a daughter. I knew I liked them. I’ll definitely invest then, for the principle of the matter if nothing else.’

The look Mercedes shot her father was icily polite before she turned her attentions back to nibbling at the delicious meat pies. His own was nearly gone. It did amaze Greer that Lockhart with his commendable people skills could be so continually obtuse when it came to his own daughter. Mercedes had not forgiven him for Bath. But then again, people often missed what was right under their own noses.

Greer had just taken a healthy gulp of ale when Lockhart spoke again. ‘I was so very proud of you in Bath, Mercedes.’

The man’s daughter had been playing billiards in a brothel. Greer choked and Lockhart had to hit him on the back. All those outings and card parties had been a giant smokescreen for her clever little gambit. But for what? He still hadn’t worked that part out. There’d been a table in their home. She could have played privately as much as she wanted. What had she needed that required such a venue as Mrs Booth’s?

Across the table, Mercedes smiled, apparently finding the same ironic humour in Lockhart’s comment as he did. ‘I enjoyed Bath a great deal,’ was all she said, but her eyes found his and he read a good deal into her simple statement, punctuated with the caress of a foot against his leg beneath the table.

‘I enjoyed Bath greatly too.’ Greer held her gaze for a moment, sending an unspoken message of his own. It was definitely time to get Mercedes alone. He rose before Lockhart could launch into a discussion of Birmingham. There would be days to talk about that. Right now, he just wanted to talk to Mercedes. ‘I noticed some decent-looking shops when we entered town. Would you like to take a stroll before we depart?’ He directed the offer at Mercedes, knowing Lockhart would be busy overseeing the horses.

They walked the short distance to the shops in silence, Greer rapidly assessing and discarding conversational openers: ‘About last night …’ No, too clichéd. ‘We need to talk …’ No. That sounded too dire. He didn’t want her to panic. Good Lord, how hard could it be? He was an officer, for heaven’s sake. He’d given more than one inspirational speech to his troops, encouraging men to make impossible stands on battlefields. Surely he could talk to one woman? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t talked to women before or even about things as delicate as the ‘day after’.

But this was Mercedes he was talking to. She was bold and brash. She didn’t need him to gingerly and correctly address the subject. She’d want him to be witty, perhaps even to attack the subject with a certain amount of insouciance regardless of the real, deeper feelings provoked by their night.

Greer smiled. He knew how to start. They stopped to study the items in what passed for this little town’s idea of an ‘emporium’.

‘It doesn’t have to be a dismal, messy foray into curiosity.’ I enjoyed the pleasure we found with one another last night.

‘No, it certainly doesn’t.’ I enjoyed it too. They were getting quite skilled at this gambit of staring into store windows and delivering oblique words about important things. The word was not the thing. The subtext was.

‘Experiences like that are not commonplace.’ I do not make a habit of one-night encounters. What happened between us was explosive and powerful and not to be taken for granted. Should we risk repeating it? Not just the sex, but what it implies—that there is a relationship of note between us?

Mercedes turned from the window. It was her indicator that the gambit was over. ‘I don’t know how to answer,’ she said softly. The admission was so entirely out of character for her that Greer was stunned. Mercedes always knew what to say, what to do. She was always so utterly in charge of herself and her situation. She knew how to use the lightest of touches, the smallest of smiles to her advantage. But he’d managed to render her guileless.

‘I don’t believe it. The great Mercedes Lockhart is at a loss,’ he cajoled, trying to fight back his own rising panic. What would he do if she said there could be nothing more? ‘Is that good or bad?’

Mercedes shook her head. ‘I don’t honestly know.’ She tugged at his arm and they continued their walk down the street to the end of the shops where the village gave into the countryside. ‘What shall we do, Greer? Shall we become lovers? Is that what you want?’ She was cool now that the empty countryside permitted free speaking. Maybe he’d been wrong to open with concealed wit. Maybe he should have cut straight to the chase: I want you.

‘I don’t think it’s up to me alone to decide.’ Greer matched her coolness. ‘What do you want?’ He thought about her foot under the table. It seemed obvious.

‘I know what I don’t want. I don’t want an impulsive decision leading to a disastrous conclusion.’ That sounded more like the Mercedes he had come to know: collected and in control. Her sudden lapse had passed. ‘The fact is, Greer, we don’t know where this affaire will lead and we have a lot riding on this trip. Perhaps it’s not in our best interest to pursue a romantic attachment at this time. Perhaps we should wait until the tournament is over and assess our feelings then.’ Then two steps back.

Greer stared at her in astonishment. She made it sound like a business contract. As for waiting until the tournament was over, that was almost a month away. He’d go mad by then. ‘Do you doubt me?’

He could manage that. He could prove to her his feelings were genuine. Another more sobering thought occurred to him. ‘Or is it that you doubt your feelings?’ His anger was starting to rise. He sensed yet another of her exquisitely constructed smokescreens hiding true motives. ‘Because if that’s the case, I’ve got to tell you, your feelings were pretty clear last night.’ He’d thought last night had been special to her too. Had he been that wrong? All this time he’d been thinking she was worrying over how to face him, how to delicately let him know what last night had meant to her. That hadn’t been it at all.

‘Is this what you’ve been sitting in the carriage all morning thinking about? How to put me off without endangering your father’s little tournament? How to deter me without your father losing me?’ In Bath, it had been her biggest fear—that he’d leave. He should have remembered. Instead, he’d given her womanly sensibilities too much credit. They’d come to a large spreading chestnut. He leaned against the trunk, arms crossed, daring her to admit to it.

‘No, that’s not it at all.’ Something akin to genuine hurt flashed in her grey eyes. ‘I was thinking of your best interests.’ Her voice was sharp and low. She stood just inches from him, her colour high. His desire for her stirred. A woman shouldn’t look so beautiful when she was rejecting a man. They’d have been better off standing in front of the store window with their masked conversation. This plain speaking exposed too much. No wonder society didn’t recommend it.

‘Listen to me, Greer. Last night was supposed to have been wild, a moment out of time fuelled by emotions.’ She mirrored his earlier sentiments exactly. He supposed it was reassuring to know they’d started that spiral into passion with the same intentions. But what she said next transfixed him. ‘Then it became …’ she glanced down at her hands ‘… more.’ She looked up at him, her soul evident in her grey eyes as she uttered the next, ‘It wasn’t supposed to, but it did.’ And if it keeps happening, we might both end up with far more than we sought.

That’s when the truth hit him. She hadn’t known. He’d been the first to show her true pleasure, something beyond the physical.

‘There can be more, Mercedes.’ Relief was swamping him. She wasn’t rejecting him. She was just nervous, on unfamiliar ground, which he suspected happened very rarely to Mercedes Lockhart. He wanted to kiss her, to reassure her they could manage this. He reached for her but Mercedes warded him off with a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. ‘Wait. You have to promise me one thing, Greer.’

‘What? Anything.’ She could have asked for a hair off the head of the Emperor of China. He would have promised anything, too, in those moments. Desire was riding him hard. But not so hard that he’d forgot the lesson of last night. Mercedes didn’t play by the rules.

‘That you won’t fall in love with me.’

He wanted to laugh at the request but something in her gaze held him back. ‘Would it be so terrible if I did?’

‘Disastrous. Promise me?’ She was in deadly earnest.

‘All right. I promise.’ But his fingers were crossed, thank goodness, because he suspected he already had.

What had she done? Mercedes was still wondering that very same thing as she dressed for dinner that night. She’d allowed herself to commit to a relationship with Greer Barrington, something she’d vowed not to do when this crazy adventure of her father’s had begun. It had not been her intention when she’d started that conversation after lunch. She’d spent all morning in the carriage rehearsing and reasoning.

She’d had her night; the mystique of him had been resolved. She had her entry fee. She needed to focus on the tournament, not a relationship that was bound to be short-lived. It wouldn’t last past Brighton. If she faced him in the tournament, she’d have to beat him and he would hate her for it. Until then, though, he might love her, for a little while. It was hard to convince herself it wouldn’t be worth it.

Mercedes dug through her jewellery case until she found a pair of small pearl earrings. She laughed at herself as she put them on. It was ridiculous, really, pearl earrings to dine at an inn, albeit an upscale one. It was a sign of how far she’d fallen. Being with Greer was either the bravest or dumbest thing she’d ever done.

In either case, it was definitely selfish. She’d wanted him, had wanted him from that first night in the garden. Even then the risks had been obvious to her, and then, like now, she’d given them no regard. She’d brazened ahead, taking what she wanted and now here she was dressing for dinner at an inn as if it were a lord’s manor.

Mercedes gave her hair a final look in the small mirror and smoothed the skirts of her pale peach gown—a perfect affair for early summer in light layers of chiffon, one of the Season’s preferred fabrics according to the magazines out of London. She stared at her reflection a moment longer and took the opportunity to give herself a strong reminder. Be careful. This was how it had started the last time she’d got into trouble over a man. Luce Talmadge had been debonair and ultimately very persuasive to a young girl’s heart. He, too, had been a special favourite of her father’s and she’d ended up … well, she’d ended up in a very bad position with him. Enough said.

A knock on the door ended that bout of self-talk. Mercedes answered the door and smiled. Greer stood there, ready to take her down to supper in the private parlour. He, too, had taken care with his appearance, changing out of his travelling clothes into a jacket of blue superfine that did dazzling things to his eyes, buff trousers and a gold-on-gold paisley-patterned waistcoat with the popular shawl collar.

‘I like the waistcoat,’ Mercedes complimented appreciatively, linking her arm through his. ‘Is it new?’ She couldn’t recall him having worn it before.

‘I had it ordered in Bath. Tonight seemed like a good night to break it in.’ Greer covered her hand with his where it lay on his arm. The gesture sent a shot of heat to her belly and a gambler’s deadliest mantra to her head: This time it will be different. If gamblers didn’t believe that, a whole lot more of them would walk away from the table a whole lot sooner and richer.

But Greer wasn’t anything like Luce Talmadge. Besides, Greer had promised not to fall in love with her and a gentleman never broke his word. It was flimsy reassurance at best when he was looking at her with those hot eyes as if he would not only devour her right there on the stairs but would protect her from anyone else who tried to do the same.

Dinner was a festive affair with an excellent roasted beef, fresh vegetables from the local market and newly baked bread, accompanied by a good bottle or two of red wine. Luxurious by country standards, the meal was simple enough to be a welcome departure from the richer meals they’d eaten in Bath.

The three of them had the night off, her father declared with a flourish, pouring a second bottle of wine. There was no billiards table at this particular establishment, although her father had heard there was one in the assembly rooms down the street. He thought he might take a stroll in that direction but Greer needn’t come.

‘That is if you two are all right on your own?’ her father asked solicitously. ‘I could stay in and we could all play cards.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Mercedes assured him. Under the table, she kicked off a slipper and ran a foot up Greer’s leg, attempting to finish what she’d started at lunch. ‘Maybe we’ll take a walk before the light fades.’ It wouldn’t be a very long walk. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with Greer and it did not involve walking or playing cards.

She found a sensitive spot on the back of his calf with her toe and watched him stiffen in response. She hid her laughter in her wine glass. Dinner finished quickly after that. Her father was eager to get to the assembly room and she was eager to get … well, frankly, to her room and do some assembling of her own, or dissembling as the case might be.

‘You’re a very naughty girl, Mercedes,’ Greer said once her father had departed.

‘It’s not my fault you’re ticklish behind your knee.’

‘Truly, Mercedes, at the table? In front of your father?’ He finished the last of his wine and set his glass down.

Mercedes could hear the evidence of humour in his voice. ‘It wasn’t in front of him. Technically. Besides, I’m twenty-three years old, far too old to be daddy’s little girl.’ He’d want me to have you, anyway. It would be good for him, came the unbidden thought. It was a most uncharitable idea and one she hadn’t had for quite some time, at least not since their arrival in Bath.

On the heels of her quarrel with her father in Beckhampton, she’d been far too focused on raising her own stake for the tournament to give much thought to manipulating Greer. In Bath, she’d hardly seen him in a billiards context. Her contact with him, while extensive, had been limited to the social, and her needs had taken precedence. Now that her place in the tournament was secured and the whirl of Bath was behind them, the old thoughts had nothing to hold them back. It was a most unsettling realisation following the commitment she’d made today to Greer and a reminder that there was more than one way she could hurt him in all this. He would be devastated if he ever believed the passion between them had been nothing more than a means to an end. There were two things she hoped he would never find out about her. That was one of them.

‘What are you thinking, Mercedes? You’ve gone quiet.’ Greer’s own foot was starting to caress a trail up her leg.

‘I’m thinking we should take that walk. Then, when my father asks in the morning what we’ve been up to, we can tell him the truth.’

Greer laughed at that and pushed back his chair, feet games forgot. ‘Ah, verisimilitude at its finest, the impression of truth. Perhaps we’ll note a few minor landmarks on the way to add more credence to our claim.’

The evening was fair and other couples were out strolling the High Street of the small town. A warm tremor of satisfaction rippled through her at the notion; they were a couple. For a little while, she was Greer’s. She should enjoy the moment and not worry so much how it would end. After all, she already knew it would and that was half the battle. It meant no unpleasant surprises.

‘People are staring,’ Mercedes noted as they made another pass down the street.

Greer seemed unbothered by it. He put his mouth close to her ear so as not to be overheard. ‘Of course they are, that’s the purpose of all this, isn’t it? This is their version of society. They’ll go home and talk about who was with whom and what they wore and it will keep them busy until tomorrow night when they do it all over again. It’s no different than London or Bath, just a smaller scale.’

‘Much smaller.’ Mercedes laughed.

‘Italy has a similar custom,’ Greer said, helping her over a muddy spot in the street. ‘It’s called passeggiata. Literally, it means a slow walk. Every night, people come out into the piazzas and stroll for hours, talking and showing off new clothes.’

‘Showing off new loves too, I should think.’ Mercedes said the first thing that came to mind. ‘It would be the perfect way for a woman to say “stay away, he’s mine now.”’

Greer chuckled. ‘My, my, my, what a calculating little mind you have, Miss Lockhart. Can’t it just be for fun?’

She immediately felt guilty. It would be nice to have part of her mind reserved to see things as ‘just for fun’. ‘It sounds lovely,’ she said, trying to make up for her callous comment. ‘I have to admit, most of my social experiences have been overlaid with a heavy dose of calculation: the right dress, the right information about a guest used at just the right time to flatter him.’ She shrugged an apology.

‘Like the night I came to dinner?’ Greer asked softly, though there was an underlying edge to the question. They’d come to an intersection and Greer pulled her aside into a quiet street of closed shops. ‘I was supposed to meet you that night despite your protests to the contrary. I remember exactly what you said: “My father doesn’t need me to vet half-pay officers.”’

He paused and searched her face. ‘You wore a blue dress a shade darker than the dining room. You looked like you’d been posed for a portrait, so beautiful, so perfect. How much of that was for me?’

‘I would have dressed well for the party regardless. My father wanted to sell tables that night.’

‘Mercedes, tell me the truth.’ His voice held the sharpness of steel in the gathering dusk. She hadn’t come out here to fight. ‘Your father knew I wouldn’t be buying any tables and yet you, arguably your father’s finest, most persuasive weapon, sat next to me.’ A dangerous realisation lit his eyes and Mercedes opted for honesty. Greer would not tolerate a lie. Why did he have to ask these questions now?

Her chin went up. ‘I watched you play at the club through a peephole. My father wanted my opinion of your skill.’

‘And when I passed inspection, I was invited to dinner to meet you personally.’ Greer finished for her. He gave a wry half-smile. ‘You’ve been coaching me from the start, since that very first dinner.’ He waved a hand in vague gesture. ‘Is that why you don’t want me to love you? You’re afraid I’ll discover I’ve been nothing but another Lockhart pawn?’ Greer drew a deep breath. ‘And when you wagered the road against the envelope?’

This was decidedly uncomfortable territory. She feared Greer was slipping away from her already, convinced she was in some conspiracy with her father, that she had used him, maybe was still using him. She had to act fast or her own little passeggiata was going to come to a screeching, disastrous halt. ‘Your own chivalry worked against you. I didn’t ask you to bet the envelope.’

‘But you threw the second game, knowing I’d feel badly about beating you twice.’

‘Your tendencies are not my fault,’ Mercedes argued, thinking how much he’d changed since then. He was far less vulnerable to that strategy, thanks to her. That was one lesson he’d learned well.

Greer gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I was a fool.’

‘Why?’ Mercedes slid her hands up the lapels of his jacket. ‘Do you regret what has happened? This has been a fabulous opportunity for you and you’ve done well. I’m hard-pressed to say you’ve been “used.” You’ve made money, you have new waistcoats to wear.’ She smiled at her try for levity. It worked a bit. ‘You’ve been travelling, meeting people and doing something you love.’ She shot him a look from beneath her lashes. ‘I don’t think working the home farm would have provided the same. But perhaps I’m wrong?’ she said with an innocent air.

Greer shook his head with a smile. ‘Lucifer’s balls, Mercedes, I swear you could sell milk to a cow.’

She smiled back; inside she sang a song of relief. She wasn’t going to lose him tonight. It scared her just how glad that made her feel. ‘Don’t overthink things, Captain. Some things we should accept at face value.’

He gave a genuine laugh, loud enough to attract a few more stares their direction. ‘Oh, that’s rich, coming from the woman who has turned passeggiata into a calculated marriage mart.’

She looked up at him, her hands still twined in his lapels. ‘It’s not all calculation,’ she whispered. ‘This isn’t.’ She reached up and dared a soft kiss on his mouth. ‘And this isn’t.’ She blew against his ear. ‘Nothing that has happened between us has been planned, Greer. That’s why it’s been so very difficult.’ If he believed anything he had to believe this. ‘I didn’t bargain on falling for you.’

Then he nipped at her ear and said the words she so desperately needed to hear. ‘I know.’

She ran a hand between them for a discreet caress. ‘Let’s go back to the room and do something just for fun.’