Page 7 of The Duke of Aces
The duke took one long stride to come to stand in front of her. “Be very careful, Lady Isadora. I don’t foresee myself as being a gracious loser.”
She stepped around the man, intending to continue on to the front door, ignoring the profound effect His Grace had on her.
From behind, he retorted, “I’ve not lost a single important battle—bidding on this building will be easy.”
She whirled around to face him. All thoughts of propriety left her. She poked his chest. “Is securing Wembly Hall that important to you?” It was imperative she secured this place. She couldn’t fail her first assignment as leader of the Wicked Ladies Salon.
The Duke of Avondale took her hand and placed it upon his forearm. “I suspect it is as important to me as it is to you.”
His touch once again muddled her mind, but she managed to go on. “Then it is extremely important.”
*
Seated opposite hisprey, Tom cursed the gentlemanly sensibilities that had him inviting Lady Isadora’s maid to ride inside the carriage rather than atop with his driver, all to prevent gossip. Hands clenched tightly in her lap, the young woman glared at him from the corner of the coach. She was obviously just as displeased as he was about the situation.
He wanted Lady Isadora alone. Verbally sparring with the woman moments ago ignited a desire within him that had nothing to do with his current physical discomfort and everything to do with his wish for a stimulating conversation. He hadn’t even realized how deprived he had been of such a connection until today.
Streaks of sunlight streamed into the coach and fell upon Lady Isadora’s cheek. Tom reached forward and jerked the coach curtains closed, blocking out the outside world. He wanted her for a wife, but not due to scandal. Shifting to lean back against the plush coach bench, Tom battled with his conflicting thoughts and emotions. It was a terrible idea to get this close to Lady Isadora and not be able to openly engage with her. He glanced at the lady’s maid, who had wedged herself in the corner, and cautiously watched his every move. Tom shifted his gaze to Lady Isadora. He had called her a wicked woman out of frustration earlier, but the bright flare of interest that flickered in her gaze as she stared back at him unblinking had him wondering if his instincts were correct—how wicked could she be?
“Lady Isadora, I shall be frank, no matter the amount you offer Mr. Wembly, I shall simply pay him double.”
Her eyes widened briefly before she regained her composure. “That is rather magnanimous of you to inform me of your strategy to secure Wembly Hall. Although I had expected you to devise a more intricate approach since the Duke of Aces is known for both luck and skill.”
“Is that so?” He crossed his legs, hoping to hide the bulge pressed against his falls.
“Aye. It’s rumored that Lady Luck resides with you at all times, Your Grace. Mayhap we should test that theorem.”
His blood heated as he sensed she was about to issue a challenge. “Go on.”
“We have two weeks until the Season officially begins. Mr. Wembly stated he won’t entertain offers from others. What if we came to an agreement?”
Yes, the woman was a risk-taker. He drummed his finger over his knee as if he was contemplating her words, when in fact, he simply needed to buy himself some time to adjust to the magnetic draw of the woman. “What type of agreement?”
Lady Isadora’s maid chortled in the corner, reminding him they were not alone.
Ignoring her maid, Lady Isadora pierced him with her eyes. “A series of challenges.” She shook her head decisively. “No, not challenges, three games of chance, and the winner shall gain Wembly Hall.”
“Why limit it to three?” he asked.
“I’m not fond of wasting time. Wembly Hall is in the perfect location, yet we both know the building is in need of repairs prior to the Season commencing.”
He admired her decisiveness and brilliance. “Valid point.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his forefinger against his upper arm as he contemplated her dare. “Are we discussing merely table games or other events that require Lady Luck to favor me?”
“Other events, such as?”
“Lord Derby is holding a race at Fulham tomorrow.”
Lady Isadora nodded. “Very well. We shall each pick a horse to win. Whoever’s horse places closest to first, shall be declared the winner of this round.”
The woman was quick-witted and a delight to converse with. He had chosen wisely. Lady Isadora would make an exceptional Duchess of Avondale. There was still time to discuss his true plans, and Tom was in no rush to bring up the topic of marriage. He was enjoying getting to know his future wife. “Agreed.”
The carriage swayed as they made a turn. Tom peeked out the window. Lady Isadora’s home was a few blocks away.
Tom glanced at the maid in the corner and then, disregarding every rule he knew of etiquette, he leaned in and asked, “Shall we seal our bargain with a kiss?”
“Your Grace, your reputation precedes you. I, unlike the majority of my peers, have no interest in having your lips against mine. I’d rather kiss a pig.”
Instead of offending him, the fiery, passionate response only made him hungrier to spend more time with her. “You misunderstood my intentions.” He reached for her gloved hand, and when she didn’t snap it back, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. The surprised look on her face was worth all the insults in the world. Knowing he was pushing his luck, he asked, “Will you grant me the pleasure of escorting you tomorrow?”
