“We can pick up Viola at, say... nine o’clock?” Huntley suggested.
“I look forward to it already,” Viola said with a smile so radiant it made Henry’s chest swell with deep satisfaction.
He allowed himself an inward cheer. Acquiring her friendship, earning her trust and finally wooing her required perseverance and time. Fortunately for him, he had these traits in ample supply, because building a business required both. And now that he’d done so and met with success, he had no doubt about his abilities where Viola was concerned.
When dinner ended, punctuated by a marvelous selection of cream cakes and champagne, the gentlemen stood and helped the ladies rise. Since Gabriella and Amelia were already paired off with their husbands, it came as no surprise that it was Mr. Lowell who pulled back Viola’s chair and offered her his arm.
She accepted, even though the butterflies flapping around in her belly were warning her not to. After all, she had no desire to like him as well as she already did or to find him amusing. She did not want to acknowledge that she invariably ended up enjoying his company in spite of her best efforts not to. Because doing so was bound to lead to trouble.
Especially since she had no intention of ever remarrying. Freedom was not an easy thing for a woman to come by and yet she’d managed to gain it. To give it up would be foolhardy. She was used to keeping her own schedule, to managing her own accounts and engaging in proper work. Having a husband tell her she ought to stay home and mind the children was not the sort of life she aspired toward.
So then the only remaining option if she were to allow a man’s attentions—and there was still a very bigif—would involve becoming a mistress, and that was absolutely out of the question. Although she supposed she could consider a brief affair, if the need arose, but if anyone were to find out about it her reputation would suffer and her businesses along with it. Which was something she absolutely could not allow.
“Are you ready for the game of billiards I promised?” Mr. Lowell inquired as they left the restaurant. “I find a bit of competitive sport invigorating after a tasty meal.” He led them all down a corridor and into a large room where five felt-covered billiard tables stood side by side, one of which was already being used. At the far end of the room was a comfortable seating arrangement, and at the other a counter where visitors could request drinks from a waiter.
Viola’s nerves thrummed with sudden excitement. “Definitely.” Her enthusiasm over the prospect of learning this game had been growing ever since Mr. Lowell had made the suggestion the previous day and peaked upon seeing one of the players at the first table shoot a white ball toward a colored one. It made a satisfyingclunkbefore propelling the second ball into a corner pocket.
Mr. Lowell leaned closer, bringing a waft of sandalwood with him. “It isn’t hard. I will teach you the basics in no time at all.”
Although she knew she was being unwise when his scent alone was doing peculiar things to her insides, Viola could not say no.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her skin tightening in response to the slow slide of his arm against hers as he released her.
“I think you’ll love it,” he said with a smile, eyes dancing with pure exhilaration before he turned away and went to select a cue stick.
Viola’s heart thudded against her chest. He was unbelievably attractive, and for reasons she still couldn’t fathom, he was interested in her.
“Ready?” Mr. Lowell asked as he came to stand beside her, cue stick in hand.
Huntley and Coventry were already playing against their wives at other tables, and for a few seconds their game had distracted Viola. She sucked in a breath in response to Mr. Lowell’s sudden proximity. He wasn’t touching her at all, and yet, for reasons she could not explain, it felt as though he was.
“Yes,” she managed to say. The word came out breathy, causing her to wince.
If he noticed, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he indicated the three balls waiting to be put into play. “As you can see, there is one white, one yellow and one red. The white and the yellow are cue balls and each player has his”—he flashed a smile—“orherown. You can be white and I shall be yellow. The aim of the game is for each of us to use our cue balls to knock the red ball into one of the pockets.”
“That sounds fairly straightforward,” she said.
“It is.” He explained the point system next, which wasn’t too complicated. “That’s it.” Lifting the cue stick, he put his hand on the table, fingers outstretched and thumb slightly raised. He then placed the tip of the cue stick on his thumb’s proximal phalanx. With the other hand, he gripped the back of the cue stick. “You want to hold the cue stick at your hip with your dominant hand and create a bridge with the other the way I’ve done. Bridges vary, so you may want to try a few different positions, but the one I’m showing you right now is the most basic.” He repositioned his legs and leaned forward. “Then lower yourself to the table so you’re looking along the line of the shot you plan on taking. Line up the tip of your cue stick with the cue ball, the red ball and one of the pockets, if at all possible.”
His arm moved the cue stick gently back and forth, sliding the tip across his thumb. Viola stared, her mouth going dry in response to the elegant yet somehow powerful image he portrayed with his jacket drawn tight across his back and fierce concentration straining his features. And then his cue stick shot forward with swift precision, hitting the cue ball and sending the red ball smoothly toward a corner pocket. It landed with a dull thud and the moment it did, Viola cheered.
“Oh, well done!” She couldn’t help but marvel at the skill with which Mr. Lowell had just accomplished his goal. “You make it look so easy.”
Straightening, he grinned, eyes bright with amusement. “Thank you, Viola, but as you must know from learning to shoot a pistol, it just takes practice. Since I practically live here, I’ve played my fair share of games in recent years.” He went to collect the red ball from the pocket. Returning it to the table, he approached Viola and held the cue stick toward her. “Your turn to try.”
Taking the unfamiliar object from him, Viola weighed it in her hand. It was light, so it shouldn’t be difficult for her to hold it as easily as he had done. Recalling how he’d positioned himself, she gripped the end and leaned over the table, placing her hand just so...
Something touched her thigh and her heart seized. Fingers curled around hers, and forming coherent thoughts became an impossible task. She swallowed, realizing Mr. Lowell had moved in beside her, his thigh flush against hers as he worked to reposition her hold on the cue stick.
“There,” he said with a husky voice that did awkward things to her insides. “Grip it firmly, but not too tight.”Dear God, that sounded shockingly suggestive!“Now relax your posture. Easy does it... Yes, just like that.”
Viola drew a shuddering breath. She could scarcely concentrate on account of the fiery heat coursing through her. His nearness was simply too much. Too...
He shifted slightly. His fingers brushed hers on the table as he carefully and with aching slowness rearranged the position of her thumb. Viola’s heart pounded, blood roaring through her veins as she struggled between the urge to run and her desire to stay. It was as if he surrounded her, crowding her with his potent masculinity to the point where she feared her legs might give way.
“Now focus, Viola,” he said so close to her ear she could feel his breath tickle her skin. “Keep your eyes on your target and take your shot when you’re ready.”
Focusing proved a slight problem considering the state Mr. Lowell had put her in. She wondered if he suspected the inappropriate way she’d responded to his words. A sudden flush swept over her body. The man was said to be a seducer of women, so there was a good chance he’d done it on purpose.
