The Duke's Gamble_Clean Regency Romance Page 2

  “Well, yes,” Louisa replied, her mind still whirling from what had just happened. “It was . . . quite engaging actually.” A slight pink color rose on her cheeks as she replayed the encounter in her mind. She would not share their final contentious words with her friend.

  “Your name will surely be at the top of the list now,” Rebecca stated, looking at her friend with a mixture of excitement and intrigue. “And everyone will certainly hold their breath to see if he approaches you once more.”

  “He shall not,” Louisa assured her. It was strange to think that she and the infamous Duke might be mentioned in the same breath by the matrons when they got together the next day to gossip about the evening’s events, which was all the more reason to stay away from him in the future.

  Rebecca opened her mouth to say something, but her dance partner for the next dance, a reel, appeared and she shot Louisa an apologetic look as she was swept onto the dance floor. That was the difference between Rebecca and herself. Rebecca’s dance card stayed full from event to event, though she had yet to choose a husband. As she watched her friend dance, Louisa could not help but wonder why the Duke had singled her out tonight. Perhaps he had needed to dance with one of only a few of the women he had not yet asked this season? Whatever his reason, she was certain they would not cross paths in such a manner again.

  Chapter 3

  The Duke of Montrose made his way to the gambling room, the smell of cigar smoke wafting through the air. His mind was still on his lovely dance partner, a refreshing change from the other women he had previously chosen. Louisa Bramick was very unconventional indeed, and he could see how she was not amongst the popular debutantes with her straightforward thinking and the ability to carry on a genuine conversation. What had caused her change of attitude at the end of their dance? He replayed their conversation in his mind but could not identify what affront caused her to decline his invitation for another dance. Truth be told, she was the first woman he had any interest in getting to know better.

  “Your Grace. We were speculating whether you would join us this evening,” a cheerful voice called from the card table.

  Grayson looked over at the Baron of Grimsey who was already seated at the table with a tidy pile of earnings in front of him. The man had a reputation for winning and losing a great deal of money in one sitting and was often in the same gambling clubs that the Duke frequented. “Grimsey. Seems lady luck is on your side tonight.”

  “That she is,” he grinned. “Care to take a chance?”

  Unable to back down from a challenge, Grayson took a seat at the table and brought out the bundle of notes representing his night’s limit. “Perhaps it will be my lucky night.”

  “We shall see, your Grace, we shall see,” the Baron replied. His speech always quickened when he was playing well, his voice rising with excitement, no doubt due to the alcohol as well as the cards. “Be on the ready, gentlemen! Let us deal the cards.”

  An hour later Grayson laid down his cards and shook his head, seeing the remainder of his money disappear into a pile in front of the exuberant Baron of Grimsey. The Baron was an excellent card player and over the course of the hour had nearly wiped out the stake of every man at the table.

  “I concede, Grimsey. Tonight is surely your night for fortune.”

  “Bramick, I cannot imagine you not having a lucky night,” another called out as the Baron collected his winnings and stuffed them into his coat pockets. The name registered with the Duke, and he realized he had heard that name already once tonight. He had been unaware of the Baron’s surname before that moment, knowing him only by his barony.

  “I say, Grimsey” Grayson started as he stood from his seat, preparing to depart. “Have you a daughter in attendance tonight?”

  “Louisa?” the Baron asked, not looking up from the task of gathering his winnings, his arms sweeping the table as he shoveled the notes and coins toward him. “Yes, of course, she is in the dancing hall.”

  Grayson nodded to the rest of the group, bidding them farewell, and strode out of the room with the realization that he had danced with the Baron’s daughter. In fact, she had weighed so heavily on his mind that he had struggled to concentrate on his cards. How ironic. If he had not approached her first, Grayson would have thought there was a conspiracy afoot to distract him so her father could win at cards.

  Grayson stepped out into the cool evening air and tucked his hands in his pockets, a grin growing across his face. He had been fleeced by two members of that family tonight. Well, he was on to the Baron’s type of play and next time he would be ready for the old man. His daughter, well, Grayson wasn’t so sure how to interpret their encounter yet, but being a gambling man, he would wager that they would cross paths again.

  Louisa pulled her dressing gown closer to her body as she hurried to the front door, turning the corner just in time to see her father entering, his face wreathed with a smile. Some of her worries dissipated, knowing his smile was a sign that he’d had a good night at the table.

  “Louisa, my dear,” he said, handing his hat to Andrews. “Why are you still awake?”

  “I wanted to see you come in,” she responded as he removed his coat, his cheeks ruddy from the cool air and too much port. “I hope you do not mind that I took the coach home.”

  “Of course not,” he said, giving her a hug. “The fresh air was invigorating.” He was in obvious good spirits.

  Louisa inhaled the stale cigar smoke intermixed with alcohol and drew in a deep breath, glad that he was home safely and pleased with his evening. Not all nights ended as this one had.

  “I had a good evening, my dear, a good evening indeed. Why I even parted the Duke of Montrose from all his cash tonight!” Clearly pleased with himself, the Baron emptied his pockets onto the table so Louisa could see the vast extent of his winnings.

  Louisa gasped upon hearing her father mention the Duke. It was bad enough that he indulged in the games, but he had told her his wagering was harmless. Yet he had participated in the high stakes tables like her father, where fortunes were won and lost and men were known to be wiped out.

  “You won all of this, father?” Louisa reached out and barely touched the notes with the ends of her fingertips, as if she feared her hands would be burned if she got too close.

  “I did, my girl.” He took her hands and spun her around until she was dizzy and had to pull away. “How can you look so displeased, Louisa. It is enough to cover a year’s worth of expenses on this house. Not to mention a nice little addition to your dowry. You will have to beat the young men away with a stick!”

  Louisa looked down at the floor, disappointed that a little extra money is what would make her a good catch to the bachelor’s of the ton. But her father was so pleased with himself and she should not take away what little enjoyment he could derive from an evening’s entertainment. “I’m sorry, father. Congratulations.” She looked up but with eyes wet with tears.

  The Baron smiled and gave her shoulders a squeeze before walking toward his study. “Go on to bed, my dear. I shall have a brandy before I retire. I am far too energized to sleep.”

  Louisa sighed and climbed the stairs to her room, biting her lip. While she was disappointed that her father had once again spent his evening gambling, she was accustomed to it. But when she’d first met the Duke, she thought him to be different, unique like her, intellectual and worldly. Yet he had proven himself to be nothing more than another superficial member of the ton, driven by the need to own vast holdings and flash money around for the sole reason that he could. Louisa knew she would never find a complete match for herself among those her father sought for her. The money, the titles, the prestige, she could care less for all of what was coveted by most women her age. All she wanted was to be understood, respected, and be loved. Was that too much to ask?

  Louisa reached her bedroom and closed the door behind her before climbing into bed, thinking about that one particular dance tonight that had triggered invitations for quite a f
ew more afterward. She had fended off most of the questions about her dance with the notorious Duke, most of the men flocking to her out of curiosity rather than companionship. Still, it had allowed for a more interesting evening than she’d had all season.

  Chapter 4

  The Duke looked at his cards impassively, his face unmoving, while he imperceptibly snatched quick glances at the faces of the men seated around the table. Over many years he had learned to sense the meaning of even the smallest of facial movements in his opponents, from a slight twitch of an eyebrow to the nervous shuffling of coins in a pocket to the nearly invisible bead of sweat at the temple.

  The Baron of Grimsey was also back at the table, sweat dotting his forehead uncontrollably as he pushed another stack of notes toward the center of the pile. If Grayson had counted correctly, the Baron was down a significant amount of money tonight, his luck running out about the time the Duke had joined the table. It was unfortunate, for the man looked a mite pale, as he should, considering he had lost far in excess of his initial stake for the evening, and had now added to the kitty the title to a vast estate in Scotland that sat on a plot of fertile land. Grayson did not know what the Baron was thinking, wagering such an attractive property, a line that he never once crossed during his years at the gambling table. The money in his pocket was all that he ever wagered, carefully calculated to give him just enough to enjoy the game but not lose his fortune as a result. He knew when to walk away, even if the Baron, unfortunately, did not.

  Grayson laid down his cards carefully, and a chorus of groans went up around the room, including the wail of the man who had just lost everything. The Baron had not recovered. The pile of cash and the title to the land were now the Duke’s. “Hard luck tonight,” he murmured as he extracted the notes and the letter documenting the land title from the pile, leaving the rest for the room attendant to cash out into a note.

  “I’m ruined,” the Baron said, slumping against his chair. “’Twas everything I had.”

  “Surely not everything,” Grayson said gently, hoping that the man was not that crazed.

  The Baron nodded, staring at the pile. “It was all the cash I won last week. And title to our estate in Scotland. That land provided my entire income, full of paying tenants. Not to mention it belonged to my late wife and was to be part of my daughter’s dowry! I am ruined! Ruined!”

  Grayson resisted the urge to throw the land agreement back on the table, knowing that the enchanting woman he met the other night was not going to take this very lightly. She would be furious with her father, on that he would easily wager. But he could not return the winnings outright; it was just not done. “Perhaps ‘tis time for you to lay low for a while,” he said in a calm manner as he stood. “Spend some time with your daughter and not at these tables.”

  The Baron looked up at him, and Grayson could see the anger starting to build in his eyes. There would be no words to soften this blow. “Good evening,” Grayson finally said, walking out of the room. He strode past the ball that was currently in full swing and headed straight for the street lined with waiting carriages. The Baron would blame him of course, but he hadn’t forced his hand. Nevertheless, when the drama of what had occurred had died down, Grayson would find a way to reverse the outcome but with no one the wiser.

  He sent his groom and carriage ahead of him and walked beside Hyde Park on his way home to Belgravia to get some fresh air. When he arrived home, Harrison was waiting for him in his study, his cravat hanging from his neck and a brandy snifter in his hand. “Rough night?” Grayson remarked as he walked over to the crystal decanter and poured one as well.

  “Not as rough as what I have heard about you,” Harrison lamented. “Ruined the old chap did you?”

  Grayson sighed and took a sip of the amber liquid. Word traveled fast in society, especially if it was ruination. “You heard of that before I even made it home, did you? I did not ruin him. He was the one who threw in the estate, not me.”

  “Well, that is not how the rest of the city shall see it,” his friend replied, rubbing a hand over his face. “They shall see it as many other things Grayson, none of which will be good for you.”

  Grayson looked into the fire, his mood pensive. “I do not plan to keep it, of course.” He wasn’t the type to ruin a man because of a wrong move, a desperate move. “I will give back the estate once I feel certain that Grimsey has learned his lesson. A man of his age and standing should know better than to wager with so little consideration for his family. I will need to devise a plan to return it without the man losing face, of course.”

  “I had no doubt of your intentions,” Harrison remarked dryly. Grayson ignored the man and drained the rest of his glass. He would go around and have a stern talking with the Baron about the way he bet his entire existence and sacrificed that of his daughter’s. He would then offer the man one turn of the cards, in private, to win back his estate and ensure that the Baron won. Surely this scare would be a very strong lesson to him.

  Louisa knew the moment her father walked through the door that something was amiss. It was in the way he held himself, his shoulders sagging against the weight of his coat, the way he looked a decade older from earlier in the evening when he had kissed her goodbye. “Father?” she asked softly. “Is everything alright?”

  He looked at her, tears in his eyes and she rushed to his side, grabbing his arm. “What is it?” Louisa demanded. “What has happened?”

  “Oh, dear girl,” he said, a sob in his throat. “I’ve lost it all.” It was an incomprehensible whisper that he muttered, unaware of how he had even managed to stagger home.

  Louisa did not know what he was talking about so she led him to his study, settling him in his favorite chair before pouring him a glass of brandy and bringing it to him. His hand shook as he took it from her, taking one healthy swallow. “I’m sorry, my girl,” he said finally, his eyes on the fire before him. “I’ve made a grave error, and your dowry . . . ‘tis gone. Along with your mother’s estate in Scotland.”

  “Oh, Father,” Louisa said with worry building in her chest. Her dowry had been part of her mother’s dowry to her father, a nice tidy sum that would be brought to her husband upon her marriage. The Scotland estate was a lovely home that her mother had once lived in, one Louisa had cherished and hoped her father would bequeath to her one day.

  “I beg your forgiveness, my child. ‘Tis gone,” he repeated, his words slurring. “And all because of that rogue Montrose! I swear that man cheated his hand, cheated, I say!”

  The blood drained from Louisa’s face as she realized what her father was saying. The Duke had done this? No, not him! Sure, he played at the tables, but to the point of ruining a man? Why that was a cowardly move, a move that did not depict the man that had danced with her the other night and made her laugh. Much as she hated to admit it, the man had occupied her thoughts since then and she had secretly hoped for another glimpse of him, her thoughts a confusion between the attraction she felt towards him, while simultaneously being repulsed by his gambling. Her heart twisted, and Louisa felt rage start to build up within her. How dare he do this! Her father was in his own wrongdoing, but the Duke, by virtue of his senior position, should have put a stop to it before it reached such a pivotal point.

  “It is alright, Father,” she finally said, touching his shoulder. “We shall get through this.”

  “I’m sorry, Louisa,” he moaned, touching her hand with his. “If only your dear mother was here, I would have never gone this far. She was my conscience, and I miss her so.” He then covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking with his sobs. Louisa felt her own tears prick her eyes as she thought of the man that her father had become. She would help him get his fortune back, even if she had to confront the Duke herself.

  Chapter 5

  “Louisa! I did not know you were visiting this morning.”

  Louisa gave Thomas a half-hearted smile as she watched Rebecca’s eldest brother, a strapping man with blond hair
and twinkling blue eyes, step into the parlor where the women were solemnly drinking tea. After barely a wink of sleep the previous night, Louisa had called upon her friend early to tell her how her father had lost everything, including her mother’s property that was to be her dowry. She had no idea how she would fix such a debacle.

  “Hello, Thomas.”

  Thomas walked over and took a seat next to his sister, pouring himself a cup of tea. “So, are we plotting the next move on society?” he asked, relaxing on the cushions. “I believe that our Louisa here is all the rage with the ton.”

  “’Twas one dance,” Louisa replied, a slight burn stinging her cheeks. Despite what the Duke had done to her father, she could still close her eyes and see his face as he had teased her during their dance. It had been one of the most memorable of dances, but that memory was now distant, tainted. Her daydream passed as her nightmare came back into focus and her voice became grave. “Besides, I have more pressing issues to deal with now.”

  “I’m sorry. I have heard that tale, as well,” Thomas added, his expression darkening. “Montrose has overstepped himself this time.”

  “I do not know what to do,” Louisa sighed, setting her tea on the tray before her. Her father had been in the wrong to wager something so lofty, but the Duke should have had the good sense to stop the game.

  “We shall think of something,” Rebecca said softly, concern on her face. “Do not worry, Louisa. You have me.”

  “And me, of course,” Thomas said. “I shall endeavor to work on getting the Duke to lose it all, Louisa.” Thomas was quite the adept card player himself. “Perhaps I can win it back, if I can goad him into tossing the land title into the kitty when next I play him.”