Page 48 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Georgiana glanced over Lady Trowbridge’s shoulder and saw the doors between the rooms had been thrown open and crowded with tables and dainty gilt chairs upholstered in red satin. Aristocrats of every age, size, and description were perched atop them, chattering like monkeys and flirting, gossiping, and tossing cards about with wild abandon.
Goodness, what a spectacle. Even from here, the din was deafening. It put Georgiana in mind of one of the battle reenactments at Astley’s Amphitheater, but less entertaining, and with a greater likelihood of bloodshed.
“You look positively terrified, you poor thing.” Lady Trowbridge tapped Georgiana’s arm with her fan. “It is a bit of a crush tonight, but I daresay we can squeeze youin somewhere.”
“I, ah…I’m afraid I don’t know how toplay, my lady.”
Lady Trowbridge gave her a blank look, as if Georgiana were speaking in another language. “You mean to say you’ve never played faro?”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not.”
Lady Trowbridge’s eyes went wide. “What,never? Why, how perfectly charming you are! Wherever did you find such a sweet little thing, Haslemere? I’m quite mad for her already.”
Lord Haslemere gave an indulgent laugh, and Georgiana glanced up at him to find him looking down at her with a fond expression that must surely be feigned. “You can’t expect me to tell my secrets, my lady, but perhaps you’d like to join us at a table? You can tutor Miss Georgiana on the play.”
“I shall, indeed.Someonemust take care of her, and you’re a shamelessly negligent attendant. Come along, my dear.” Lady Trowbridge linked arms with Georgiana. “You’re sure to enjoy yourself. What could be more delightful than squandering Lord Haslemere’s money?”
Georgiana didn’t quite know what to say to that, but she let herself be led toward the back of the house. The air grew thicker and the buzz of conversation louder as they neared the drawing room. It was disorienting. Georgiana, who’d never been fond of crowds, stumbled a bit, but Lord Haslemere pressed a strong, reassuring hand to the middle of her back to steady her as they made their way toward a tablein the corner.
“It’s terribly warm, is it not, my dear? I’m parched.” Lady Trowbridge plopped herself down in one of the gilt chairs and fluttered her fan vigorously in front of her face. “Fetch us some champagne, won’t you, Haslemere? There’s a dear boy.”
Georgiana perched on the edge of the red satin chair Lord Haslemere secured for her. Directly across from her a gentleman presided over a green baize board with two rows of cards arranged by suit spread across the top, some with neat piles of chips placed infront of them.
“That gentleman there is the banker. You, my dear, are apunter, or more simply put, a player.” Lady Trowbridge twittered on, pointing out different aspects of the game and explaining how to place a wager. Georgiana nodded politely, but one sharp glance had been enough for her not only to see how the game was played, but to calculate the odds of winning or losing on each turn of the cards.
She hadn’t lied to Lady Trowbridge—she’d never played faro before—but it was a game of numbers, much like every other card game. It was not, however, a particularly complicated game, nor was it a game of chance.
Not for anyone who couldcount, that is.
“Your chips, my dear.” Lord Haslemere reached over Georgiana’s shoulder, placed a tall pile of chips to one side of her place and a sparkling glass of champagne on the other, and took the opportunity to murmur in her ear. “I’ll keep an eye out for Lady Archer while you play. Do make an effort not to lose my fortune, won’t you?”
Georgiana heard the smile in his voice, and her own lips curved in response. “I make no promises, my lord.”
He straightened, chuckling, and said little from that point on, leaving her to the tender ministrations of Lady Trowbridge, but he never stirred from behind her chair, and she was acutely aware of him there, very close, the heat from his long, lean body teasing her senses.
Georgiana didn’t anticipate getting much pleasure from the game, but between Lord Haslemere’s strong, tantalizing presence at her back, Lady Trowbridge’s endless stream of entertaining nonsense, and the cool, delicious tickle of the champagne on her tongue, it wasn’t long before she was having a perfectly lovely time.
And then, of course, there were the cards.
She didn’t have fond memories of her time spent on the London streets, yet Georgiana couldn’t deny playing at cards was a bit like seeing an old friend again—a friend as accommodating now as ithad ever been.
The trouble was, once one knew how to count cards, one couldn’tnotcount them, particularly when the banker was marking each card off on an abacus it was played. Georgiana couldn’t understand it. It was almost as if they wereinvitingher to cheat.
How was it that aristocrats lost entire fortunes at this game?
“My goodness, Miss Georgiana, you’re doing very well for yourself,” Lady Trowbridge exclaimed as the chips on the table in front of Georgiana continued to grow. “Howlucky you are!”
“It isn’t luck, is it?” Lord Haslemere whispered the words directly into her ear, his voice low and dark and amused. Georgiana went still but for a deep shiver at that seductive whisper, the faint, intoxicating scent of peppermint lingering on his skin.
She’d always had a weakness for peppermints.
“No one would ever guess how wicked you are, would they? Not with those innocent eyes of yours.” His soft laugh wasn’t so much a sound as a breath, the warm rush of it against her ear making her quiver. “But I know your secret, Georgiana.”
Georgiana gripped the edge of the table to steady herself, dazed at the powerful tug of desire in her lower belly. Dear God, he wasn’t eventouchingher, but his seductive whisper made her nerve endings spark, made the fine hairs on her neck rise, made her as dizzy as if she’d drank a half-dozen glasses of champagne.
“So clever, aren’t you, princess?” He crooned, a silken whisper in her ear. “Such a clever, wicked lady.”
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