Daphne fidgeted with the lace sleeve of her gown. “I’m not sure we can.”
“Nonsense.” Natalie notched her chin. “We will show you how to entice.” She turned to Pippa. “Won’t we?”
Pippa leaned forward, excitement in her gaze. “Of course; and we’ll make sure you find yourself in the company of gentlemen.”
“The house is fairly crawling with rogues. One of them will be happy to kiss you, you’ll see.” Natalie tapped her silk fan against her leg. “Is there one in particular you desire?”
"No," Daphne whispered, shaking her head. She could not imagine kissing any of Bradford's friends. What good would a rogue do her? They would not suite on any level. Sure she found Marcus attractive and imagined that Mr. Ashe must be as well, but she did not want to marry a rogue. "This is all wrong. I don't think we should. I do not wish for any of the men here to take me to wife."
“Lulia never said you would marry the man you kissed. Only that you had to kiss someone if you wished to wed.” Natalie stared at Daphne, her head slightly angled. “Of course we cannot force you, but I do so wish to see you happy.”
Daphne watched the fires bright orange and yellow flames licking the back of the hearth. Natalie did have a point and while Daphne may well perish of embarrassment by the time this ended, she very much wanted a family of her own. “Very well, you can help me.”
Natalie clapped her hands together. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”
Daphne already did.
Chapter 3
Marcus Wentworth, Earl of Clarendon, circled the billiards table with his stick in hand. One more well-placed shot and he’d sweep the table. Lining his stick up, he steadied it with one finger arched over the smooth service then tapped the cue ball. The round ivory ball rolled across the green base to strike its target, sending the eight into the corner pocket. Marcus turned a victorious grin in Bradford’s direction. “Pay up, Greenwich.”
“You’re one lucky bastard.” Bradford Seymour, Lord Greenwich, tossed a stack of pound notes onto the billiards table.
Marcus chuckled as he scooped up his winnings. “Care for another game?”
“I’d rather keep my coin, thank you.” Greenwich reached for a crystal decanter.
Marcus could not blame his friend. He’d already lost three games. A fact that pleased Marcus for it had earned him a considerable amount of loot. Having too much fun to give up, Marcus began to rack the balls for another round. “How about you, Ashe?”
“I don’t believe my luck will be any better than Greenwich’s, but what the hell.” Ashe took a long drink from his tumbler before setting it aside and strolling over to the billiards table. “I’m breaking.”
Marcus stepped aside. “As you wish.” It mattered not to him who began the game. Marcus had far more experience with the game than any of his friends did. He’d grown up around billiards. Been taught how to win from the time he was old enough to roll a ball. It was a wonder that any of his friends amused him by playing when they rarely ever bested him. But then, everyone had their own talents.
Ashe pushed his stick forward into the cue, sending it careening into the balls. With a crack, they scattered across the billiards table. One lone ball sunk into a side pocket. Ashe gave a smug nod, his green eyes holding a challenge.
“Beginners luck.” Marcus jested.
Ashe ignored him as he circled the table studying the balls. Finding the shot he desired, he lined up his stick and sunk another ball.
"He may have you," Kissinger said, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
Greenwich leaned against the hearth, one hand holding his tumbler while the other relaxed at his side. “Never underestimate Clarendon.”
Ashe sent the three ball spiraling into a corner pocket. Glancing up with a victorious gleam in his green eyes, he said. “Never underestimate your opponent.”
"Feeling cocky are we?" Marcus poured four fingers worth of whiskey into his tumbler. It had been several months since he'd lost to Ashe. Even then, it had been more of a forfeit as Marcus had been too distracted to focus on the game. He could not see himself loosing again—not unless Ashe swept the table.
"More like confident," Ashe said, before turning back to the billiards table to line up his next shot. He sank two more balls without paying any mind to Marcus or the others. With a cocky set to his face, he chalked the cue of his stick. "I may have a good old break and run here."
Greenwich clapped his hand over Marcus’s shoulder. “I dare say it is looking that way.”
“Nonsense, the game has just started. Ashe will miss before it’s done.” Marcus studied the remaining balls. Given the position of the cue ball in relation to the others, Ashe had only one choice for his next shot and it would not be an easy one to sink. He smiled at Greenwich. “Care to wager on it?”
“I do, if for no other reason than to encourage Ashe to beat you.” He chuckled.
“One hundred pounds says he misses the next shot.” Marcus extended his hand.
“Very well.” Bradford gave him a shake, sealing their bet. Turning back to the table, he said, "Don't disappoint me, Ashe."
