A Gentleman's Gamble (Devilish Lords Book 3) Read online

  When Mary stepped to the side and Eliza placed her hand in his, he knew he must be dreaming. Gone was that hatred. It seemed to have melted away along with her severe hairstyle and the firm set of her jaw.

  The woman before him—well, she did not give him a beatific smile, but the look in her eyes was rueful. She was not pretending not to know him, yet their past incident seemed to be forgotten. Or at least, it was not her present concern.

  Perhaps she’d moved on. Was it possible she had forgiven and forgotten?

  No, no. Surely that was not the case.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Cleveland,” she said.

  Her voice was still the same. Strong and husky—not at all dainty and high-pitched like her sister’s, but it held a charm of its own.

  A seductive charm.

  What? No. Surely not. Just because the lady did not openly despise him did not make her desirable.

  But her delectable body did.

  Oh bloody hell. Of all moments to be fawning over a woman like he was a schoolboy—this was hardly the time or place, and she was certainly not the proper woman to desire.

  Still, his body did not seem to get the message. It was too busy taking in the lush curves she’d been hiding all these years with those dowdy, shapeless gowns. His gaze was greedily soaking in the delicate slope of her neck, of the way her bosom strained against the material and her cleavage drew his eyes with a delicious pull. He dragged his gaze upward, but that did little to help the desire that was making him hard and tense. Instead of ogling her body his gaze now rested on her mouth, noting keenly the way her lips were so deliciously full they were just waiting to be kissed.

  The odd thing was, he could still note distantly that she was not a diamond of the first water. No one would deem her a great beauty—but this new look revealed a feminine side of her he’d never seen before. Up until now she had hidden away this figure, her scowls had disguised those lush lips, and her severe hairstyles had done their best to conceal the fact that her facial features were rather pleasant when framed and softened by curls.

  But now…oh hell, but now he saw her and she was glorious.

  He blinked down at her, noting the way a flush crept up her neck and into her cheeks, following in the wake of his gaze.

  Or leer.

  Hell and damnation, he had to stop ogling. This was Eliza Beaucraft, the woman who knew his darkest secrets and the lady who hated him above all others.

  Yet, her gaze held no hostility and her expression was free of disapproval for the first time since he’d met her all those many years ago. He didn’t recall that first meeting now. It had been during her first season, surely, if not before then. They’d moved in the same circles, yet she had always been an afterthought. A nobody.

  Guilt ate at him, as it did regularly. But this time for different reasons. The older he got the more he truly despised his selfish younger self. He’d never noticed Eliza. Never made an attempt to talk to her or dance with her.

  The only time he truly took notice of her was when she gave him the set down of a lifetime, which he’d so richly deserved.

  But now he realized that she’d deserved better from him long before that fateful meeting. It was too late to turn back time and be the sort of kindhearted young gentleman he wished he would have been, but in that moment he resolved to do what he could here and now.

  And that meant getting past his self-centeredness once and for all.

  Yes, he’d behaved badly, and she’d had every right to be angry. But if she could set aside her valid anger and be civil, the least he could do was the same.

  Leaning in closer, he hoped she could see the sincerity in his gaze. “I am grateful you could join us, Miss Beaucraft. Your presence here is most welcome.”

  She blinked rapidly and took a quick step back before seeming to catch herself. He watched in fascination as she took a deep breath and plastered a truly hideous smile on her face. “Thank you,” she said through unnaturally gritted teeth. “It is a pleasure to be here.”

  He pressed his lips together to hold back a shocked laugh and to keep himself from stating the obvious.

  It did not look like a pleasure. In fact, it rather looked as though she were being tortured.

  But he couldn’t laugh at her, not when she looked like she was trying so hard. Apparently smiling did not come naturally to her.

  He risked a glance in the direction of the great somber duke. She was in the right household for that. Someone ought to tell her that smiles were frowned upon here. But when he looked over, Roxborough was, in fact, smiling. At something Georgie said, it seemed. He was leaning down slightly to hear her better, a grin of amusement making him look decades younger and far less frightening.

  Huh. He supposed Georgie had that effect on him.

  He turned back to Eliza but she was no longer looking at him. She had half turned to face Anne and Davenport, who stood beside him. Anne was welcoming her and asking polite questions, but Eliza’s gaze was focused on Margaret, who had fallen asleep in Davenport’s arms.

  He too looked far less formidable with a babe in arms, but that was beside the point. It was Eliza who caught Jed’s attention. She was still smiling, but it no longer resembled a grimace. Her eyes grew soft at the sight of the infant, and the tension eased out of her features, leaving her with a smile that was small and natural and…

  Exquisite.

  Once again he found himself stricken by the mere sight of her. How had he never seen that smile before?

  Because he’d never tried to make her smile before.

  The answer was obvious and irritating. Lord, but he’d been a fool. He’d honestly believed there was nothing to this woman but anger and bitterness.

  But today, when faced with a man she had every right to hate, the lack of judgment and anger in her eyes had been the greatest gift he could have been given. His heart swelled with gratitude entirely out of proportion to this situation.

  All these years he’d had the suspicion that if he could just earn the forgiveness of this one woman, he might find redemption. And here, now—he was beginning to have hope of it.

  Eliza was fully absorbed in a conversation with Anne now, and then her attention was caught by Collin, who was talking about books—he was the literary one in the family—and Eliza’s eyes lit up with interest.

  Soon those two were talking animatedly, her smile flickering across her face every now and again as he looked on with a frown.

  Funny, but after dreading the thought of spending time in her company he now found himself scheming for a moment alone with her.

  Something alarming happened when his mind summoned up Georgie’s words from that morning. I believe Eliza may have developed feelings for you. It was a feeling that started in his chest and spread throughout his body as if it coursed through his veins. What it was, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that it was warm and delicious.

  He stared at Eliza intently. But it couldn’t be true.

  Could it?

  As if she could feel his stare, Eliza glanced in his direction. Their eyes met, their gazes locked, and for a moment he forgot where he was and why.

  Everything in the world came down to her and this moment.

  Then she looked away, back toward Davenport who had said something to her. The moment was broken and he was left feeling like a fool. An addled, rattled, ridiculous fool.

  Of course Georgie had been misinformed. There was no way Eliza Beaucraft had not only forgiven him for his past transactions, but then suddenly and miraculously had a total change of heart about him after never so much as exchanging a pleasantry these last two years.

  No, he decided as he socialized with his family while keeping a watchful eye on the party’s unexpected newcomer. Georgie was mistaken, of that he was certain.

  But that still did not explain this change in her, and that mystery was impossible to ignore.

  Chapter Three

  Thank goodness for literature or she might ne
ver have endured her first night. Eliza lay in her bed and stared up at the ceiling as she waited for time to pass so she might head down to breakfast at a more reasonable hour.

  Collin was younger than her and she’d never spent much time in his company before tonight. But tonight she’d found herself hovering around him like a moth. Because he spoke of literature. Nothing else. Merely literature.

  That much she could handle. But to speak to anyone else in the room had required a strength she hadn’t been able to summon. Her sister or Georgie would have been an obvious choice for companionship, of course, but they had been ruled out of the question, for a glance at each of them was enough to show her how eager they were to push her toward Jed.

  She wasn’t ready for that. It wasn’t time. There were too many people around. All Jed’s family and all people who belonged at this house party in a way she never would.

  A family gathering, that’s what this was. And she was a ridiculous interloper. A fact made abundantly clear by the shocked reactions when she’d been introduced to Georgie’s siblings upon her arrival.

  She’d known it was to be an intimate gathering, but she hadn’t realized it would be entirely family aside from her and Mary. She’d thought there would be a few other friends or acquaintances, at least—mayhap a second cousin who no one liked—someone or other who would keep her from sticking out in such an abhorrently ridiculous manner.

  But her arrival seemed to have been a shock for everyone, no one more so than Jed.

  Her mind kept tripping back to the moment that Jed had spotted her.

  Nay, the moment he’d recognized her. For he hadn’t at first and that fact made her lips twitch with mirth as she lie there toying with the covers. His expression truly had been quite comical. She’d never thought to see the charming rogue without that jaded, knowing smirk on his face.

  But when he’d recognized her she’d watched his mouth part, his eyes widen, and his entire body stiffen as though he’d spotted a ghost.

  And maybe that’s what she was to him. A ghost from days better left forgotten. She supposed he hated the sight of her just as much as seeing him filled her with revulsion.

  Guilt nagged at her. She never had been good at lying to herself. To others, yes, but not to herself. It wasn’t revulsion she’d felt upon seeing him. She frowned at the ceiling. What it was, she’d rather not name.

  Yes, he was handsome. He always had been with his light brown hair and his classically handsome features. That was nothing new. It had been ages since she’d seen him but she should have remembered the effect he had on her—on all women, she was certain. Or at least, any woman with a pulse.

  She should have prepared herself for that initial fluttering of nerves and for the way her body heated around him, from an infernal riot of emotions. Anger—that was still there. That was going nowhere. She would despise him until the day she died.

  Hopefully as his wife.

  Yes, it was an odd predicament she found herself in that she was desperate to marry a man she reviled. But when he was the lesser of two evils—well, needs must, and all that.

  But that initial anger she’d steeled herself against. She knew to expect that and she swallowed it down, so to speak. She’d hid it well, if she did say so herself.

  What she had not predicted was the other feelings that had thrown her into a tumult upon seeing him. The physical attraction, the recognition that sparked in his eyes, the way his gaze held hers and wouldn’t let go. That connection, which she logically knew to be a shared history and nothing more.

  But it was odd, that sensation of having a secret with someone in a room full of people who ought to know him better. Surrounded by people who thought they knew him, who thought they knew her.

  But they did not know about that.

  How she knew he’d never told a soul about that ill-fated near-wager, she wasn’t quite certain. She just knew. Just as she knew that she’d surprised him with this silly altered appearance, which really altered nothing at all.

  But then again, it had. For him it seemed to have shifted his view of her altogether.

  She clasped her hands over her belly as the memory washed over her. The way his gaze had darkened to something so stormy and so intimate it had very nearly stolen her breath. She’d had the uncanny but undeniable feeling that she could feel his eyes on her, touching her body just as surely as if he’d reached out a hand.

  It was a struggle to breathe even now as she lay there. Her body was overcome with restlessness and she threw off the covers.

  Her reaction to his gaze was just as silly as his obvious reaction to her altered appearance. In fact, it was one more piece of evidence that he was a shallow cad and that she—

  Oh hell, that she was a bloody idiot for having gone along with her sister’s plan. She’d thought it might help to sell the idea that she was yearning for Jed. Both for her plan’s sake and for her sister’s. For when all was said and done, Eliza did not want her sister to worry about her after she married. Her silly little romantic sister would be more at ease thinking that Eliza had married her dream mate than that she was selling herself to the least objectionable option.

  That reminder of why she was here did little to ease her irritation. The party had only begun but she had little time to put this into action, not if she wanted to be wed and back in London by the time this house party disbanded, as was her plan.

  The restlessness was too strong. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and got up, wrapping a dressing gown around her. Her stomach was growling and there was no way she could wait for a reasonable hour. The sun hadn’t even risen, and her stomach would hold out no longer.

  She might feel like expiring from embarrassment during this blasted party, but there was no way she would perish from starvation.

  Eliza always had been a nervous eater. While Mary couldn’t touch a thing when she was anxious, Eliza fought the urge to jam a whole cake in her mouth.

  There would be something in the kitchen, and surely no one would mind if she snuck a little bite.

  She felt like a thief as she tiptoed through the unfamiliar house. Sneaking down a hallway she very nearly screamed when a man suddenly reared up before her.

  Well, obviously he didn’t rear up. He was no monster. It was merely Jed stepping out from a dimly lit room. He spotted her first, his candle held aloft to see her.

  She cringed away from it like she was the monster, afraid of the light. But really, she’d hardly expected to see a servant, let alone Jed. With her hair in a braid and only a dressing gown for cover…this was not at all the way she wanted to face him.

  “Eliza,” he said softly in the dark. “What are you doing up?”

  “Uh…” Oh drat, there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “I was hoping to find some food in the kitchen.”

  She caught his smile in the candlelight. Drat. He was even more handsome in the flickering light.

  “Is it already time for breakfast?” He glanced around at the dark sunless windows and ran a hand over his eyes. “It seems we have a household full of early eaters. Someone ought to warn the staff.” It was only then that she realized he was wearing the same clothes from the night before.

  “Have you not gone to bed?” She asked the obvious, and she could not help the rather severe tone. She was an older sister, after all. One who’d practically been a mother ever since theirs died in childbirth with Mary.

  And besides, it was very nearly dawn.

  As she justified her critical tone to herself, he was…smiling. Hells bells. He really had to stop doing that. He looked amused by her tone, but that wasn’t right. He’d always been irritated by her ways. All men were, it seemed.

  Her very presence had a way of bringing out a disappointed expression in gentlemen everywhere, as though she had managed to let them all down, the entire sex, by her inability to simper and fawn.

  Well, to hell with them all.

  She straightened at that thought, ignoring his smile. S
urely it was a trick of the candlelight that had him smiling as though he were glad to see her or…

  She sighed.

  Yes, that was definitely brandy she smelled coming off him. Of course. He was not delighted to see her, he was just sloshed.

  Oddly enough, that helped put her at ease. An inebriated man was an easily manipulated man. He was weak, his reason clouded at best.

  An inkling of an idea took hold. Could this be the moment she was looking for?

  They were alone, and she’d managed it without Mary and Georgie’s machinations. Nerves welled up inside her fast and fierce, but she refused to take heed. She had thought of little else for the last few months. There was no more time for conjecture or doubt. The decision had been made and now it was time for action. This was it. Now or never.

  She refused to let a little thing like debilitating fear get in her way.

  “Might I have a word?” She gestured toward the room from which he’d just come as though it were perfectly natural for them to be meeting in the hallway before dawn. As if she’d planned this, even.

  And honestly, she started to think she couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried. He was alone. He was inebriated.

  This was her chance.

  His eyes widened with surprise but he recovered quickly, gesturing for her to go before him, and following close behind with the candle so she could see her way. More lamps were lit inside the room—the library, she noted. The lights cast the floor-to-ceiling bookcases in an orange hue that made the room warm and inviting. A smoldering fire in the fireplace was the final touch.

  Clearly he had been here for a while and judging by the open book lying on an armchair before the fire, his only nefarious late-night activity had been to indulge in some poetry.

  How utterly benign for a man she’d assumed was still partial to a debauched lifestyle. In an instant her traitorous mind called up an earlier memory from this evening. A memory in which she’d watched Jed take little baby Margaret from her clearly exhausted parents as he shooed his sister to bed.