Page 30 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
“Let’s go.” She started without him, but Andrew easily caught up.
They waited until the round was over, and then Charles stepped away from the table. “I need a respite,” he said. “The others are at hazard.” He inclined his head toward Beaumont and a few others from their group. He gestured to a doorway leading from the room. “Have a drink with me.”
Andrew glanced at Miss Parnell. He didn’t know if she could drink. But given everything he knew about her, he expected so. She didn’t return his gaze. Instead, she followed Charles into the parlor where a footman offered them whiskey, gin, or port.
She took the port, which surprised him.
“Not a whiskey drinker?” he asked.
She eyed the glass he’d taken from the tray. It contained gin. “Neither are you, I see.”
Charles chuckled. “Not Dart. He typically goes for blue ruin. He lives like a man who doesn’t have a tomorrow, isn’t that right, Dart?”
Miss Parnell eyed him quizzically but was quick to mask her perusal.
Charles sipped his drink. “Smitty, I hear you’re quite the marksman.”
“So it would seem,” she said, pitching her voice as low as Andrew knew it could go.
“I should like to see you take aim at the wafer some time,” Charles said. “We’ll have to arrange a shooting day.”
“Indeed.”
Andrew liked that she was noncommittal. They needed to take this slowly. “I’ve invited Smitty to join us for racing on Tuesday morning.”
“Capital idea,” Charles said. He looked at Miss Parnell, scrutinizing her a little more than Andrew would like. “Do you race?”
“I do not, but I should like to try.”
Charles rocked back on his heels. “You’re a driver, then. What’s your vehicle?”
She glanced at Andrew, and he lightly shrugged. She’d need to maneuver these sorts of conversations.
She cleared her throat in a thoroughly masculine fashion. Andrew nearly applauded. “A phaeton.”
“High perch?” Charles asked.
“No.” Her tone was that of disappointment. Damn, she certainly seemed to crave excitement as much as he did. How extraordinary. And yet troubling at the same time. He didn’t want to like her more than he already did.
Beaumont and the others joined them. “If it isn’t the mysterious Smitty,” Beaumont said. “We haven’t seen you in a while. Everyone wants to see you shoot.”
Miss Parnell wore a high, stiff cravat to shield the slender, alluring column of her neck, but it didn’t cover the blush that spread up her face. She turned her head slightly and brought her hand up to smooth her sideburn, likely in an effort to mask her reaction. She liked the praise. Who wouldn’t?
“He’s coming to the races on Tuesday,” Charles said. “Mayhap we can set up a target so he can demonstrate his skill. I’ll still wager Dart can outshoot him.”
Beaumont narrowed his eyes then grinned. “I’ll take that wager! Fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds,” Charles agreed.
Charles looked toward Andrew and inclined his head toward the corner. “Dart, might I have a word?”
Andrew didn’t want to leave Miss Parnell, even if it was just to move across the room. He preferred to hear what was said to her and what she said in response. But he couldn’t think of a reason to decline Charles without drawing attention to their situation. So he went along with him but kept his body positioned so he could see Miss Parnell with the others.
Charles threw back the rest of his whiskey and rotated the glass several turns in his hands. “I’m a bit short tonight, Dart. Will you loan me a hundred pounds?”
Andrew flicked a glance at his friend but kept his focus on Miss Parnell. “How much have you lost?”
Charles tugged at his collar. “Ah, five hundred.”
