That Despicable Rogue (23 page)

‘Oi!’ came an ominous cry. ‘You shouldn’t be in here!’

Hannah quickly looked behind her to see the uniformed servant charging up the stairs after her. She did not bother stopping and trying to talk her way out of trespassing. If the man caught her she would be unceremoniously kicked out on her ear. Instead she picked up her skirts and broke into a run.

Two flights up, and the raucous noise coming from behind the panelling signalled that she was close to the right place. She followed the noise, dashing down the narrow servants’ corridor until she found a door. She managed to burst through just before her pursuer grabbed the back of her dress.

‘
Now
I have got you!’

She was yanked backwards with a jolt. Hannah swiftly brought her right elbow back. It landed satisfyingly between the man’s ribs and his firm hold loosened enough for her to wriggle free.

‘Take your hands off me! I will leave as soon as I have done what I came to do.’

By now she was attracting quite an audience. Gentlemen in varying states of inebriation eyed her with open curiosity.

‘I am looking for Ross Jameson,’ she announced defiantly, daring anybody to try and stop her.

One gentleman answered, obviously highly amused by her antics. ‘He is at the card table.’ He jerked his head over to the left of the large, well-lit room and intercepted her would-be jailer with a smile. ‘Give her a minute. It might be entertaining.’

As she began walking the crowd parted as if they were the Red Sea and she were Moses, Hannah could hear murmurs of speculation and outrage from them. A woman in White’s was a great scandal. Her antics tonight would likely make it into the newspapers, and Ross would not like that at all. However, as he had given her no choice but to come here and root him out, he could hardly blame her for that tiny detail.

As she turned into a small ante-room she spotted him straight away. He was dressed formally for once. The well-cut clothes made him look more dangerous, and she realised she much preferred him in just his shirt. Or nothing at all.

The buzzing around him must have alerted him to the fact that something was amiss, because his green eyes flicked up and met hers. Apart from the smallest twitch of an eyebrow he managed to disguise his shock at seeing her. Here. In his club.

She took a steadying breath and walked slowly towards him, aware of at least a hundred male eyes watching her intently. He made no move to stand or to speak to her. He simply looked back at the cards in his hand with a bored expression on his face and waited for her to do her worst.

She pulled the papers and the banknotes out of her reticule and threw them on the table. The crowd gasped to see such a vast amount of money.

‘I came to challenge you to a game of cards,’ she said loudly, so that everyone in the room could be left in no doubt. ‘My stake is five thousand pounds and the deeds to Barchester Hall.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘T
hat is a significant bet, my lady,’ he drawled, gathering the cards in his hand and placing them neatly on the table, the very picture of complete indifference. ‘What do you expect me to wager against it?’

‘I would have thought that would be quite obvious,’ she challenged. ‘If you win, you take the house and all the money you paid for it without my knowledge. If I win, all you have to do is marry me.’

Hannah ignored the gasps from the crowd behind her and focussed solely on Ross. He gave nothing away, but she could see his clever brain whirring away.

Two more uniformed guardians of the club skidded into the room. ‘Madam,’ said one, in his best authoritative tone, ‘we must insist that you leave immediately. Ladies are not permitted in the club under any circumstance.’

The other man grabbed hold of her arm roughly.

‘Let go of her.’ Ross’s casual delivery did nothing to hide the veiled threat in his voice. The man backed off instantly and both men stepped back reluctantly.

‘Let her play!’ This came from the same man who had directed her to the card tables. ‘I will wager one hundred pounds that she beats Jameson.’

He motioned for her to sit and picked up the deck of cards. ‘You know you cannot beat me. By the end of this game you could leave here with nothing.’

Hannah shrugged. ‘A very sensible man once told me that you should never wager any more than you can comfortably afford to lose. As it turns out I have walked in here with nothing of any significant value to me. I am quite happy to lose it all.’

She watched him for any signs that he believed her, but he merely placed the neat deck of cards on the table and sat back in his chair, nonchalant.

‘I suppose the reality of managing a big estate is that it requires a significant amount of money to do so. A husband with a large fortune would come in handy in such a situation. It would certainly make your life a little easier.’ He picked up the cards again and began to deal them out.

Hannah rolled her eyes in exasperation. The stubborn man still believed the only thing she would ever want him for was his money.

‘It must be a wonderful thing, to be born a man. You take so many freedoms for granted. We women are subject to the whims and edicts of the men in our lives. For example, according to English law if I marry everything I own becomes my husband’s property, to do with as he wants. That would mean the house would be yours again. And as to your suggestion that a wealthy husband would make my life easier—need I remind you that my husband could banish me back to the wilds of Yorkshire quite legally as soon as we leave the church? He could dally with a succession of mistresses or gamble away all his money and I would have absolutely no recourse whatsoever.’

Hannah picked up the cards in front of her and fanned them out, because that was what people who played cards did.

‘What game are we playing?’ Not that it really made much difference. She had played slapjack in the nursery, but apart from that her knowledge of cards was woeful.

He gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Piquet—that is why you have been dealt twelve cards.’

He began to sort through his own hand, then sat back and waited for her to start.

‘Just the one hand, then. The winner takes all.’ Hannah turned towards the gentleman in the crowd who had so far been the most helpful. ‘Excuse me, sir, I wonder if you could give me one or two pointers about the rules? I am a little out of practice with Piquet.’

The crowd began to buzz at this. Behind her there were snorts of disbelief and frantic wagering.

‘One hundred pounds on Jameson!’ one man shouted gleefully.

‘She’s bluffing,’ said another, ‘Fifty pounds on Lady...?’

The voice trailed away, so she turned helpfully and smiled. ‘Lady Hannah Steers—you might remember me. I was involved in the most terrible scandal a few years back.’

This started a furore of excitement as the gruesome details of her past were bandied about in hushed tones by one and all. If he wanted her total humiliation as proof of her sincerity she was perfectly happy to give him that too. Without him she had nothing.

The kind gentleman gave her a brief rundown of how to play, then glanced at her hand. ‘Those first, my lady.’

She thanked him and laid the cards down face-up on the table.

‘If you would prefer to play a different game we can start again,’ Ross offered, looking bored.

She shook her head cheerfully. ‘This game suits me well enough, thank you.’

Ross stared at his own hand to give him time to think, but his heart was hammering so hard in his chest it threatened to burst out of his ribcage at any moment. He was like a swan, gliding effortlessly across the water. Nobody saw how frantically his feet were paddling to achieve such serenity. On the outside he might appear to be calm—but inside he was a complete mess.

A tangle of conflicting emotions warred within him. Anger, hurt, lust and hope swirled in his gut and made him feel decidedly off kilter, while the ache in that spot close to his heart was worse than ever. Without thinking, he laid down some cards and won the trick.

What she had said about English law was something he had not considered. Win or lose—he got the house and the money back either way. Which meant that she had a greater scheme in play or... Or she actually really wanted him.

He watched her lay down more cards. Her teeth worried at her plump bottom lip nervously. She knew that she did not stand a chance against him—was she seriously hoping he would lose the game on purpose?

And why the hell had she told everybody who she was? As if a woman forcing her way into White’s and challenging him to a game of cards for his hand in marriage would not cause enough of a scandal already. Was it a calculated risk, to incentivise his compliance, or was she making a completely different point entirely? He was beyond confused by it all.

Testing the former theory, he easily took the second trick as well and stared at her coldly, waiting for her to spew apologies and dramatically throw herself on his mercy, or cry for the benefit of everyone watching. If she was trying to manipulate him that was exactly what he would expect her to do.

She did neither, and carefully studied her hand again before laying down three more cards.

‘You cannot beat me,’ he whispered harshly. ‘You do not even understand the rules of the blasted game. That is plainly obvious.’

Her blue eyes lifted to his briefly before returning to her cards. ‘I know that.’

‘Then what do you hope to gain?’

She mulled this over for a moment and then shrugged. ‘At worst, justice will be done. I have wronged you grievously and it is only right that you get your property back.’

‘And at best?’ His heart was hammering vigorously now, so he had to fight to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

Her eyes sought his and held them. ‘The man I love with all my heart will forgive me for ever doubting him.’

It was just a pretty speech, he cautioned himself, and he would be wise to keep his wits about him. She had made a fool out of him too many times already.

Ross quickly scanned the cards she had laid. He could easily trump them. Then again, he could just as easily not. Deciding to truly test her mettle, he took the points anyway. She smiled ever so slightly at this, but he saw it waver a little at the corners.

A hush settled over the crowd as they greedily ate up the scene playing out in front of them. If he purposely won, in front of an audience, knowing full well that she was a truly atrocious card-player, then this would be the second callous and humiliatingly public rejection she would have received from a man. The fact that she was already braced to accept it stoically touched him.

She laid down her last trick and then squared her shoulders bravely. The nine, ten and jack of clubs stared up: a mediocre selection for the final rubber, and no match for the queen, king and ace of hearts in his own hand. In one fell swoop he could ruin her...

And then he would make them both miserable.

She looked at him levelly and he saw her fear, doubt, hope and acceptance.

‘I went to Barchester Hall in order to expose a despicable rogue, and I did—except it wasn’t the man I thought it would be. It was not the man who had hauled himself out of the gutter but one who had thrown himself into one. It was my own brother who betrayed me. He stole my dowry and sabotaged my wedding, all the while hiding his actions, before he banished me to the middle of nowhere and doomed me to a life of spinsterhood. You have every right to hate me, Ross. I accept that. I did not know the true facts—they were kept from me. But I know them all now. You are a shameless flirt, an opportunist, a rogue and certainly no gentleman—but you are decent and honest and noble. You deserve to have Barchester Hall, Ross. The house is a better place with you in it.’

She was trying to make him feel good about the outcome, he realised. She knew she was beaten.

His eyes locked with hers. Past the bravado and the pride and the hope he saw the one thing that mattered the most. Possibilities. She had not simply fallen into his arms. Prim had resisted and resisted. He had been the one to push and push. But was she worth the risk?

With a sigh, Ross tossed his three remaining cards face down on the table. ‘I concede.’

The crowd were in uproar, and for a few moments he watched her blink in confusion, uncertain of the outcome. When several gentlemen suddenly gathered behind her and began to pat her on the back she finally plucked up the courage to smile at him. Tears shimmered in her lovely eyes, and then she launched herself out of the chair, in front of everyone, and threw herself onto his lap and kissed him as though her very life depended on it.

When she finally came up for air she was grinning, despite the tears streaming down her face. Ross brushed one away with his thumb. ‘Such a scandalous display is not proper, Prim.’

She wound her arms possessively around his neck. ‘I think that the rules of propriety can be relaxed a little when two people are engaged to be married. And besides, I am already ruined. To the best of my knowledge a lady can only be ruined once—so who cares?’

Ross did not bother to argue, because she was kissing him again.

‘I am sorry I spoiled your plans for a sunset proposal,’ she whispered, for his ears only. ‘I was looking forward to going swimming with you today.’

‘I have a good idea how you might be able to make it up to me.’ He chuckled wickedly. ‘If we leave now we can be home as the sun rises. I think an early-morning dip will be just as enjoyable.’

He felt her smile against his lips. ‘Are you not worried that the water might be a little bracing at that hour?’

Still cradling her in his arms, Ross stood and started to carry her towards the door. White’s, the noisy onlookers and everything else faded into insignificance. He was so absorbed with the woman he loved that he did not even stop for a moment to consider what the newspapers were going to print about them tomorrow.

‘If it is...’ Ross began to march with some purpose ‘...I will know just how to warm you up.’

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
PRINTER IN PETTICOATS
by Lynna Banning.

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