Gambling on a Scoundrel (17 page)

Especially the goal of winning back her fiancé's love.

15 - A Spinning Head

Tempy rushed down the steps of the casino, and her carriage immediately lurched forward from its spot near the entrance. Her footman jumped down to open the door, and the carriage swept her away within seconds.

Within the darkened confines of her carriage, Tempy moved her hand to her mouth. Her lips didn't feel swollen to her touch, but she could have sworn they were. Lucien's mouth had been tender at first, but then things had changed. She realized now that she'd been playing with fire when she'd decided to kiss the man. But how could she have predicted she'd react the way she had?

She suddenly realized that she was quite thirsty. Could it be from the wine?

She'd never felt this way when she'd kissed Ernest. Those kisses had always been temperate. Proper. She'd had no idea kisses could be so...so...wanton. Did the combination of wine and kissing have this effect on all women?

Her hand dropped to her breast as she checked to make sure the bodice of her dress was properly in place. She could still feel Lucien's hand there.

"Lucien," she murmured. Drawing out the soft "sh" sound. She liked saying his name.

What would have happened if she hadn't pulled away from him? She blushed, confused both by her lack of knowledge about the details of intimacy between men and women and by the sensations coursing through her body.

Tempy rested her woozy head against the seat back and closed her eyes. This was one of those moments when she most missed having a mother. She felt entirely unprepared for the world in which she found herself. And she hated feeling unprepared. If her relationship with Mrs. Lipscomb hadn't been destroyed by Ernest, she'd speak with her. But perhaps not. How could she discuss kissing Lucien with Ernest's mother?

She needed some guidance. Mme Le Clair would probably give her the most practical advice, but Tempy immediately dismissed that idea. She sensed that the demimondaine was not the best person to approach regarding matters of the heart. Although she was certain that the woman would be full of practical advice, that wasn't what Tempy needed to help her come to terms with what had just taken place. She wanted to understand the emotions involved, and she sensed that Mme Le Clair would be uncomfortable with discussing that aspect of relationships.

She needed someone with more delicate sensibilities. Perhaps Millicent would help her.

Tempy opened her eyes and had trouble focusing on the interior of the carriage. It made her dizzy, so she closed them again.

Lucien had a similar effect on her. He had made her feel slightly off balance ever since she'd met him. So why had she responded to his kisses that way?

And why had something like that never happened with Ernest?

But, then again, she'd never kissed Ernest this way, so perhaps the comparison wasn't fair.

Did Ernest's new fiancée kiss him like that? A wave of distaste ran through Tempy as she imagined the two of them together. Could that be why Clarisse had won him away from her? Because Tempy had never kissed him the way a woman kisses a man, instead of the way a sister kisses a brother?

Well, there was only one way to find out. A sense of resolution descended upon her. She'd have to kiss Ernest again. It was the only way she'd know for sure.

But even as she made the decision, doubt niggled at her. After all, she and Ernest had spent years together. Shouldn't they have already discovered this sort of passion? If Ernest had never made her feel this way before now, maybe he never could.

The rocking and jostling of the carriage were beginning to make her feel queasy. Or perhaps it was her tight corset in combination with the three...no, four glasses of champagne she'd consumed. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore her growing discomfort.

What if she decided not to find out if Ernest's kisses would move her? What if she abandoned this plan to win back his love? What if she simply let him go? What then?

As the carriage rolled to a halt, Tempy pressed her hand to her stomach and sighed resignedly. She already knew "what if." She knew herself well enough to realize that she'd always be plagued by those questions. She had to find out.

The door snapped open, and Tempy stumbled out of the carriage's stuffy confines. As she stepped onto the paving stones in front of her house, the cool night air helped clear her head and settle her stomach.

Tempy lifted the hem of her skirts and began climbing the front steps to her home. When she wobbled slightly, the footman hurried forward and took her elbow, escorting her safely to her front door.

Perhaps she could blame tonight on the champagne.

16 - Millicent's Advice

As always, Tempy rushed toward the docks, but she arrived too late.

As she stood on the shore and watched the ship grow smaller and smaller in the distance, she became aware of someone standing next to her. A man.

"They've abandoned you," the man said.

"No! They simply forgot me. I'll find my way back to them."

"I'm here. Now."

"But we're alone," she said, looking around the deserted island. "How can we survive this way?"

"We can take care of each other." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth against hers.

She wanted to sink into him and let him surround her senses, but she couldn't make herself do it. Instead, she pulled away. "But what happens when you leave me too?"

And he vanished.

Tempy slept late the following morning. When she had arrived home, her lady's maid, Mary, had tut-tutted over her, cajoled her into eating some bread with water, and then had tucked her into bed. Whether it was due to Mary's ministrations or not, Tempy found that she didn't feel the lingering after effects she'd dreaded from overindulging in champagne. She'd seen them in her father only once or twice, and they'd never looked pleasant.

She couldn't say the same about the aftereffects of that kiss. She felt certain that she'd had a dream about it last night, but she couldn't remember any details.

Millicent would arrive soon. Tempy had been pacing through the drawing room for the past fifteen minutes, and the odor of father's pipes seemed stronger than usual today.

She glanced out the window again, and stared for a moment at the train statue in the grassy area directly across the street from her front door. Some boys had climbed onto it and sat straddling it. Their bodies bounced up and down from what must have been a very rough train ride in their game. Father always hated it when children climbed on his statue, but Tempy never minded. They looked like they were having fun.

After another minute passed, Tempy dragged one of the heavy chairs over to the front window and sat down. After all, if she planned to continue peering through the glass to watch for Millicent's arrival, she might as well be comfortable. And anyway, she would be less obvious from the street if she sat, and it would be easier for her to watch the children play.

Millicent wasn't late, of course, but Tempy was too anxious to wait calmly. She and Millicent usually met at restaurants or museums, or occasionally for some shopping. Calling upon one another at their homes had never been their habit. They were both much too active to be content with chatting over tea in the drawing room. The upper class might enjoy making formal calls as part of their daily routine, but Tempy could never understand why. The activity of a tea room, restaurant, or shopping district seemed vastly preferable to anything a drawing room had to offer.

But Tempy had sent the invitation to Millicent in the midmorning post, and Millicent's acceptance had arrived just past noon.

As a carriage rattled across the cobblestones toward the entrance of Tempy's townhouse, she sat up straighter. Yes. That was Millicent. She'd recognize that ostrich feather hat anywhere.

Tempy lurched to her feet and saw Millicent's eyes track her movement in the window. Tempy hurried toward the door, but paused when she saw that her butler, Royce, was already there with his hand on the doorknob. Apparently, he, too, was aware that Millicent's carriage had arrived and was simply waiting for her to come to the door.

Tempy took a step back, allowing Royce to perform his job. It would be unkind to prevent him from doing so. The man could be quite proper and rigid, but he kept the household running smoothly, much like a yardmaster in a train yard. He examined every aspect of the household daily, making certain that everything ran smoothly and on schedule.

The bell rang, and a heartbeat later, Royce swung open the door. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Kidman," he said, stepping back from the open door to allow her to enter the house.

Tempy moved forward, extending both hands in greeting. "Millicent. How good of you to come." She embraced her friend and they brushed cheeks. She led the way to the sitting room.

She glanced at Royce. "Please send in the tea."

"Yes, miss," he said with a nod and then hurried off.

She had thought that her anxiety would ease once Millicent arrived, but it hadn't. If anything, it had grown worse.

Millicent pulled off her gloves and removed her hat, eying Tempy the entire time. "You seem tense. Are you still pining away over Ernest?"

"What? No, not that. I think I'm making some progress on that front."

Millicent arched her eyebrows. "Then what's this about?" she asked, coming directly to the point, as usual.

Tempy was grateful for the interruption when the door opened and one of the maids came in, carrying the tea tray. She set it on the table in front of the sofa and departed.

Tempy gestured toward the tray and moved to take her seat on the overstuffed sofa, sitting carefully so she didn't slip to the floor. Perhaps she should replace the thing, now that Father was gone. She'd always detested it. Millicent sat next to her.

Tempy lifted the teapot and china cup simultaneously, just as Mme Le Clair had taught her, and poured a cup for Millicent. Steam rose, carrying with it the faint citrus aroma of Darjeeling oolong tea, Millicent's favorite. "One lump?"

Millicent looked at her strangely, but nodded. "Have you been taking comportment lessons? I thought you hated it when your governess tried to teach you trivial things like the proper way to pour a cup of tea."

Tempy's hand, clenching the tongs with the lump of sugar, paused, and then she dropped the lump into Millicent's cup. She didn't reply as she set aside the tongs and placed a small teaspoon on the saucer, but then she smiled, offering the teacup to her friend. "I decided that the lessons had some merit, after all."

"Humph. This is because of him, isn't it? You've decided to change, simply to please a man."

Tempy felt the heat rush to her face. "That's not fair. You've been urging me to behave in a more ladylike manner for years. I've simply decided to follow your advice and buff off some of my rougher edges."

Millicent looked unconvinced. "Why now?"

"Because now I'm reevaluating my past decisions and making some changes." When Millicent opened her mouth to comment, Tempy rushed on. "I promise I'm not changing who I am. I'm just polishing what's there."

"You're not doing something foolish, like giving up on writing, are you?"

"Oh, heavens no. Never. Didn't Mr. Hamlin tell you? He's allowing me to do my research at his casino."

Millicent's mouth dropped open slightly. "I thought he'd only allow you to visit after hours."

"I was able to convince him to change his mind."

"Then you have me at a loss. I know you have some sort of purpose in inviting me here, otherwise we'd currently be viewing that new exhibit at the Royal Gallery."

Tempy sighed. "You do love to get to the point. I usually like that, but today, the subject is a bit delicate. I hope you'll be patient with me."

Millicent tilted her head to one side, intense curiosity causing her to narrow her eyes. "All right," she said, surprising Tempy. "Take whatever time you need."

Tempy chuckled. "It's your advice I need. And a little bit of wisdom."

Millicent smiled back. "That I have in spades." She set her teacup on the low table in front of the sofa and then faced Tempy, folding her hands on her lap as she settled in to wait.

Tempy bit her bottom lip, not meeting Millicent's gaze. "You've been married." She paused, but Millicent said nothing. "I'm trying to understand more about marriage. About closer relationships between men and women."

Millicent reddened. "Oh, my. Are you asking about the mechanics of how men and women...? Oh, my." She reached for her teacup, and then drew her hands back without touching it. "Of course, your mother would have been the one...Oh, my." She began carefully arranging her teacup and saucer on the low table.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry." Tempy's heart sank. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. "I didn't want to ask you about the actual mechanics, as you put it. I wanted to know more about the emotions involved."

Millicent stopped her fussing and turned to face Tempy. "Are you saying you want me to explain
love
to you?" Millicent asked, looking taken aback. "You'd be better off studying poetry than asking me."

"No, that's not it. I'm not expressing myself well." Tempy sighed and started over. "When a woman kisses a man she finds attractive...I mean,
really kisses
him...is the response always the same? Does she always feel...well...the same rush of emotion, no matter who the man is?"

"Are you trying to understand the distinction between love and pure animal attraction? Is that it? Are you wondering if a woman can respond to a man's kisses even if she doesn't love him?"

Tempy thought about it. "Yes, I suppose that's partly what I'm asking."