Page 38 of Wagering for Miss Blake (Lords and Ladies in Love 4)

“Oh, nothing. I feel absolutely foolish and am probably trying to deflect my embarrassment.”

Hawkins smiled. “All will be well. With either Lady Hancock or Lady Livingston on our side, there is nothing to fear.” He pointed to the narrow path leading to the east side of the woods. “On your way, now. Go.”

Mr. Templeton moved his arm from around her waist. “I will go first, in case there are small animal holes or that dangerous dog returns.”

Suzanna nodded and followed him along the path. Now that the entire episode was finished, she found herself sore from where she’d climbed the tree and exhausted from the strain of the past hour. She also replayed in her mind his hand on her naked bottom and how interesting and exciting it had felt. Whatever was wrong with her? She should feel only mortification.

Instead, she walked along the path, continuing to think about warm lips and strong hands and what might have happened had Hawkins not come upon them. She shuddered with delight, then chastised herself. What sort of a wanton has this man turned me into?

…

It was the last day of the house party and the night of the ball. Besides the house party guests, neighboring gentry far and wide had been invited. Lady Hawkins and Lady Honora were expecting about fifty additional people. Dinner would be served earlier than usual, at eight o’clock, and then the house party guests would join the others in the ballroom.

Giles entered the drawing room, his eyes immediately spanning the room for Suzanna. She had not yet arrived, so he wandered over to the sideboard and accepted a glass of brandy from Hawk. “I will be returning to London early in the morning. When will you be leaving?”

“The same.” Hawk took the last gulp of his drink and set the glass down. “There are several business items I need to deal with.”

Cam walked up as Hawk finished his statement, a grin on his face. “Ah, business matters? That ‘business’ would not happen to be the beautiful Mrs. Ambrose, your favorite opera dancer now, would it?” He took the glass of brandy Hawk held out to him.

Hawk winked, but somehow the effort seemed forced. In fact, Giles realized Hawk had not been himself for a while now. He took part in all the activities they normally did, but his heart hadn’t been in it.

“That is part of my business, to be certain. I’m this close”—he held up his thumb and index finger about a half inch apart—“to having her agree to come under my protection. Away from her this week might have her casting glances at another.”

“Ah, the perfidiousness of opera dancers. You should find yourself an amiable widow, looking to have a man warm her be

d without the leg shackles. The best of both worlds. No tantrums and scenes when one parts ways with the chit,” Cam advised.

“Speaking from experience, Cam?” Giles laughed. “If I remember correctly, there was quite a spectacle with that Italian opera singer. What was her name? The commotion kept the gossip columnists happy for days.”

“Yes. Madam Moretti. Lovely girl. Shrieked like a banshee when I gave her congé.” He shook his head. “That’s why I pursue only widows now.”

“No married ladies?” Hawk asked.

“Not anymore. I’ve climbed out of enough windows, breeches in hand, when the irate husband arrived home unexpectedly.”

“At least you haven’t had a husband shoot a pistol at you. Some of them are deuced accurate.” Hawk replenished his brandy glass. “Then there are the young pups who think they will protect their widowed sister’s honor by calling you out.” He shuddered. “I almost had to kill one of them, but my second managed to talk sense into him.”

Giles shook his head. “You two are pitiful. Why don’t you just admit your bachelor days are over? You are grown men and should select a lovely young debutante from the latest crop and settle down. Fill your nursery.”

Cam choked and looked askance at Hawk. “Is Mr. Giles Templeton spewing this rubbish? I thought it was bad enough to witness Bedford willingly stepping up to accept the parson’s noose, but to hear this poetic nonsense spouting from another of our own is a bit much.” He sighed and placed his hand on Giles’s shoulder. “Where did we go wrong, my friend?”

“Ah, but he has the delightful Miss Blake in his sights.” Hawk’s demeanor grew serious, and he lowered his voice. “It was a bloody lucky thing that her sneaking off to the woods the other day didn’t end in disaster. For both of you.”

“I agree. I have spoken to her—” Giles looked up as Suzanna entered the drawing room with Miss Fenster. “If you will excuse me…” He left his two friends smirking at each other and crossed the room, stopping in front of Suzanna.

He bent over her hand and then turned to Miss Fenster. “Ladies, you both look lovely this evening, as always. I’m sure you will make quite a splash with the local gentry.”

Miss Fenster sniffed. “I hope to do better than local gentry, if you please. I would never be happy stuck out here in the wilds. I much prefer the excitement of London.” She turned to Suzanna. “Where would one even find a decent modiste?”

Suzanna cringed at Miss Fenster’s words, which amused him, since Suzanna also preferred a man with a title, a supercilious aspiration in itself. Once again, the thought nudged at him that her claim rang false. The woman he’d grown to know over the last few weeks was anything but ambitious and grasping.

Yet she continued to cling to the idea that he would not do because he was a mister instead of a lord. If her response to his kisses was any indication, it should not take much longer to change her mind.

Since there seemed to be no retort to Miss Fenster’s statement, Giles directed his attention to Suzanna. “May I request the first waltz tonight, Miss Blake?”

Every time they’d encountered each other since the tree incident, she had seemed uncomfortable in his presence. Last night had been a quiet one for the guests, with no activities planned, in preparation for tonight’s ball. Suzanna had excused herself shortly after dinner, claiming fatigue. His eyes had followed her when she’d left the room, and it had taken all his willpower not to follow her up the stairs and coax her into letting him into her bedchamber.

Most times that was what house parties were all about. He’d certainly borne witness to enough scurrying and shuffling outside his door each night as he lay in bed thinking of Suzanna’s silky and softly scented skin. His fingers ached to run down her body, caress her flesh.