Gambling on a Scoundrel (14 page)

Tempy's eyes widened and she glanced at the office door. "You mean..."

"Yes. Mr. Hamlin. I think he finds you intriguing. And that's exactly the effect we want you to have upon men. I think it's time to reveal you to your Ernest. But only a peek. Just enough to make him curious. In fact, we need to make him burn with curiosity. It will be essential for us to keep the meeting brief."

Tempy glanced at the closed door, thinking about Mme Le Clair's offhand comment. Was she right? Was Mr. Hamlin intrigued by her?

"What do you think of the idea?" Mme Le Clair prompted.

Tempy glanced back at her and noted a curious expression on the woman's face. "About having Ernest see me?" She shook her head. "I don't know. Do you really think I'm ready?"

"Most certainly."

Tempy's chest tightened at the thought, but she nodded anyway. "Then I'll rely on your judgment. I just hope I don't do anything foolish."

With a satisfied smile, Mme Le Clair nodded. "You'll be fine. Here," she said, and then picked up one of Tempy's dresses. "This one should do." She took advantage of Mr. Hamlin's departure and draped the dress over the surface of his desk. It was pale pink with rows of rosettes along the neckline and dotting the skirt. "Lucien does, however, make a good point about appearing innocent and unjaded. It can be quite enticing."

Mme Le Clair took a pair of sewing scissors and began snipping away the satin roses dotting the neckline. "Yes. Much better." By the time she was done, she had also removed some of the ruffles and flounces, giving the dress a more elegant look.

"Let's discuss cosmetics," Madame said. "Too much is worse than none at all. You only need a touch."

Apparently, she had arrived that day armed with a variety of bottles and jars, all in slightly different shades. First she put a touch of pink on Tempy's cheeks. Next, she chose a color just a shade darker than that of Tempy's lips and applied it with a small brush. As the final touch, she used a short, stiff brush to darken Tempy's eyelashes.

"There," Madame said, stepping back to examine her handiwork. "One last thing." She turned away to search through her containers, opening and closing them as she searched for the item she wanted.

Tempy took the opportunity to look at her face in the mirror and was startled. It was her, but not quite her. She still looked like herself, yes, but it was as though someone had created a new, crisper version of her face. She thought of the photos she'd seen, by that photographer, Lady Clementina Hawarden, and of her examples of both sharp and blurred images. Somehow, Mme Le Clair had merged those two ideas and had created a version of her face that looked both softer and clearer.

"Here we go," Mme Le Clair said, approaching Tempy with a large, soft-bristled brush. It was about an inch in diameter, and the soft bristles were about two inches long. There was powder on it, and before Tempy realized what Madame was doing, she had plunged the brush into Tempy's cleavage.

"Oh!" Tempy jumped.

"I'm sorry," Madame said, grinning, "but I couldn't think of a good way to tell you what I intended to do. You'll notice that the slightly darker powder helps to deepen your cleavage just a bit without being obvious."

Tempy did see. "It all comes down to choosing the right colors, doesn't it?" She glanced at the clock. "We need to leave and let Mr. Hamlin have his office back. It's getting late."

Mary, Tempy's new maid, began to bustle around the room, packing the dresses back in the trunks so that they could be sent home.

"Why don't you leave now," Mme Le Clair suggested, "and I'll follow along later."

Tempy nodded and hurried toward the door. She had her head down as she swung it open, and when she stepped through it she walked straight into Mr. Hamlin.

Tempy stumbled back, and Mr. Hamlin grabbed her by her elbows to steady her. When she looked up at him, her face was inches from his. She inhaled the pleasant aroma of his soap and cologne.

He froze in place and stared at her with a bemused expression.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice sounded slightly husky, so she swallowed before trying to speak again. "I was just leaving. We ran a little late today." She breathed in deeply, feeling momentarily engulfed by Mr. Hamlin, and was surprised that she enjoyed the sensation.

He cleared his throat, still staring at her. "That's not a problem," he said.

"Well, then," she said "I should be going." She pulled her arms from his grasp and took a small step away from him.

He pulled his hands back as though he'd forgotten he still held her. "Good day, Miss Bliss."

"Good day, Mr. Hamlin."

As she crossed the foyer toward the main exit, she could feel his eyes on her.

She rode home feeling quite uplifted by the day's events.

She spent an hour working on her article for Mr. Dickens. She liked the direction, but something was missing from it. It needed a sharper focus, but she wasn't certain which particular lens she should use. There were a number of aspects that deserved more attention, but she knew that the article would be stronger if she chose a single focal point.

As she stared at her pages, a thought struck her. If she wanted to "accidentally" meet Ernest, she'd need to arrange a meeting. She smacked herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. How could she be so foolish?

Tempy pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and immediately penned a note to Ernest's sister, Emily, asking to meet her for tea the following day. She glanced out the window and saw the postman approaching her door on one of his eight daily mail deliveries. How did people manage to live in the country with only one mail delivery daily? London was much more civilized.

She hurriedly stuffed the note into an envelope and affixed postage. When she flung the door open, the postman was obviously startled to see her. When she shoved the envelope in his hand, he smiled and handed her the two letters he was holding. One was from her lawyers, and the other was from Millicent.

Millicent would be returning from her travels in a few days, and the railroad's board of directors was again pressuring her to sell the railroad. She penned her reply, as she always did, emphatically rejecting their request. Father would rise from the dead if she ever sold Bliss Railways.

A couple of hours later, Tempy received a reply from Emily in which she agreed to rendezvous with Tempy at Pink's Tea Room.

The next day, Tempy used one of her many circuitous routes to meet Emily. It would ruin her plans if Earl E. Byrd decided to inform all of London about her meeting with Emily. When Tempy arrived at the appointed time, she looked in through the red-mullioned window panes of Pink's Tea Room and saw that Emily was already seated at a table for two.

"Tempy," Emily said, rising to her feet as Tempy joined her at the table. "It's so good to see you. I've missed you terribly." She gave a sisterly embrace, pressing her cheek against Tempy's.

After they'd ordered tea, they chatted about a few inconsequential things. Tempy waited for their order to arrive before she broached the subject of Ernest. "I heard that your brother went to a casino last week."

"Oh, I know. Isn't it terrible? Mother was so upset, especially because he won."

"Why is winning so bad?" Tempy asked, lifting her teacup.

"Because now he's keen to return and win again. He calls it easy money."

"What about your father?"

"He says it's important for a young man to see more of the world.
I
think he's just worried about Ernest moving to Paris."

"What?" Tempy asked, almost spilling her tea. She quickly set it down. "When did he decide to do that?"

Emily smirked. "Apparently Clarisse's father offered him a position in his bank. Mother's beside herself."

"And your father wants him to go?"

"No. I don't believe so. But I think he's wondering if he should have allowed Ernest to have more experiences on his own. He even suggested that Ernest go back to the casino again on Friday night."

Clarisse would have helped him celebrate his good fortune on that first night. They must have been so excited. Tempy frowned as she imagined them together. "Will he go back to the same casino or try a different one?"

"Oh, the same one, most certainly. He says he's lucky there. He's quite looking forward to it."

"And what about you? How do you feel about all of this?"

"Oh, Tempy. I hate it all. I don't want our family torn apart this way." She let out a deep sigh. "I just wish we had you back and that Ernest would come to his senses."

She reached out and covered Emily's hand with her own. "So do I. Please tell your parents I miss them."

###

On Friday evening, Tempy's own carriage carried her to Hamlin House for a change of pace, and it dropped her off directly in front of the main entrance. She'd been hesitant to take the chance that Byrd would follow her, but tonight she couldn't risk relying on a cab. She could've very well spend her life trying to avoid being written about. If she did, she might never leave her house.

One of her footmen opened the carriage door and assisted her as she exited the conveyance. "We'll be waiting just there, miss," her footman said, indicating the space that was being held for her coach. Her quick departure was an important element of the plan, because they needed to ensure that Ernest didn't have the opportunity to waylay her. In order to facilitate that aspect of the evening, Mr. Hamlin had arranged for her carriage to have a spot near the casino entrance.

Mr. Hamlin had also volunteered to help them with another important part of their plan. Since Ernest needed to believe that other men also found Tempy desirable, Mr. Hamlin had offered to play the role of an enamored suitor.

A tremor of anticipation ran through Tempy at the thought of having Mr. Hamlin at her side. He was so handsome and worldly. Any woman would be proud to be with him. She'd never seen him with any particular woman, but she could only imagine him with someone sophisticated, like that woman in red.

Over the past couple of days, Mr. Hamlin had become more intense and brooding, and that made her a little uneasy. Especially when he pinned her with that piercing gaze of his. It had become worse since the discussion about altering her dresses, and she frequently found herself blushing under his examination. He'd quickly look away, leaving her uncertain as to whether or not he'd really been staring at her, but it still caused her to feel self-conscious.

She'd need to be more in control of her emotions tonight.

When Tempy entered the casino, she didn't go to the gaming floor. Instead, she headed directly for Mr. Hamlin's private office.

Mme Le Clair turned to greet Tempy as she entered the room. The woman examined her from head to toe, finally nodding her approval. "You look marvelous, Temperance. You'll create just the right impression." For some reason, Mme Le Clair had taken to calling her Temperance and refused to use the name Tempy.

Tempy's tension eased at hearing those words. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed Mme Le Clair's approval.

"Confidence is what will carry you through this," Mme Le Clair said. "It's the key to your success. You look the part, which is half the battle, but you must also act the part."

Tempy nodded and then squared her shoulders.

The door knob rattled, causing Tempy to start. She glanced at Mme Le Clair in embarrassment, wondering if the woman had noticed that she wasn't quite as confident as she was pretending to be. Fortunately, her attention was focused on the opening door. Tempy followed her gaze.

As Mr. Hamlin swept into the room, his elegant black frock coat opened slightly to reveal an indigo satin waistcoat with slightly paler swirls of purple dancing across it. The sight of it brought a smile to Tempy's lips.

Upon seeing the unconventional waistcoat, Mme Le Clair pursed her lips into a moue. She gave it a pointed stare but refrained from commenting. "I'm glad you were able to join us. I wanted to see the two of you together before your little performance begins."

Mr. Hamlin bowed his head in reply. "Always at your service."

"Come closer. I want you to stand next to each other," she commanded.

Mr. Hamlin crossed the room in long strides as he complied with her request, and Tempy took a step back from his sudden approach.

Mme Le Clair turned a look of censure on Tempy. "Just as I feared. You're quite nervous around the man. How will you convince this Ernest person that your affections belong to Lucien if you behave in such a skittish manner toward him?"

"I am most certainly
not
skittish," Tempy said, embarrassed to have Mme Le Clair see through her so easily. "It's simply that Mr. Hamlin is a rather large man. I wanted to give him some room."

Mme Le Clair's head tilted to one side. "I believe I have identified the root of the problem. Your relationship with Lucien is much too formal. In order for your ruse to work, you must relax around him. Let's begin by having you call him Lucien."

"Lucien?" Tempy said, feeling the soft word slide from her lips. There was something quite seductive about that name. Something luscious. She smiled at that.

"Ah, yes. See? This less formal mode of address begins to work its magic already. And you,
monsieur
, must address her as Tempy. Not Temperance or Miss Bliss. This is very important. You must show the man that your relationship with her is stronger than his."

"Of course. It will be my pleasure to address her as Tempy."

He stressed the 'm' in her name, making it sound more like a caress, and Tempy felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up in response. She glanced into his eyes, but when a rush of heat pooled in her belly, she quickly looked away. How could hearing him say her name have such an alarming effect on her?

"Temperance, you haven't practiced taking a man's arm. Let's take a moment to do that, shall we? Watch." Mme Le Clair stepped closer to Lucien and brushed his forearm with the back of her fingers. He lifted his arm and offered it to her. Her hand slid through the crook of his arm in a smooth, languid motion and then rested lightly on his forearm. "There. An elegant movement with no fumbling or bumping of body parts. Your hand must be as light as a hummingbird on his sleeve." She released her hold on him and stepped away. "You try."