Page 9 of Wagering for Miss Blake (Lords and Ladies in Love 4)

“Because I know you feel the attraction between us, and your statement about not wanting to encourage any man who did not possess a title did not ring true. From the little I’ve gleaned from those who know you, and what I saw of you at the wedding, you are not a superficial woman. I have spent quite a bit of time with women of the ton. There are those who are firm in their convictions about marrying only a title—sad that—but you do not strike me as that type of lady.”

He leaned in closer. “The duchess told me when you were both young girls you waxed poetically about how you would marry only for love. What changed? Do you not hunger for love or passion anymore? Has the idea of a lofty title become so attractive that you no longer want what the young Miss Suzanna Blake desired?”

…

Giles watched Suzanna carefully. Ordinarily, he would dismiss out of hand a woman who told him she would not encourage any man who did not hold a title. There were far too many of them in the ton, but also a good number of ladies who wanted money—which he had in abundance. Hence his popularity with the ladies, despite his lack of a title.

It hadn’t been something that bothered him overmuch. His elder brother, Eric, had always been the heir, his brother, Richard, the spare, and Giles was happy to be comfortably removed from the title. He and his brothers were good friends, supporting one another, rarely any animosity among them. Frankly, Giles preferred his life. No duties to a title, to numerous estates, or to Parliament.

He’d had an excellent education and had been granted a nice estate by his maternal grandparents, along with a generous settlement. Known for his so-called Midas touch, he’d invested the money wisely and had trebled it.

He enjoyed the typical well-placed bachelor’s life, and one day he would settle down, take a wife, and fill his nursery. He’d always assumed he could have any woman he wanted. There certainly had been enough pushed in his direction.

Now—for the first time in his life—he craved someone who was not going to come easily.

Miss Blake chewed on her lower lip for a while then tossed her head. “I find a man with a title much more to my liking.”

“I don’t believe that’s true.”

Her eyes snapped at his blunt observation. “Sir, how dare you call me a liar!”

“Again, my apologies, Miss Blake. Perhaps I should reword that. Let’s say, I refuse to believe that.” He pulled her closer than he should. “Is that better?”

She sucked in a deep breath, which caused her breasts to press up against his chest. Even through all the layers of clothing, the heat from her flesh seared him. She must have felt the same thing, because her face flushed, and she jerked back as if burned. “No, that is not better. But I prefer not to have this conversation at all.”

“Very well. The conversation is closed. For now. However, I will call on you at Lord Montford’s townhouse.”

“Fine,” she huffed, “if you wish to make this a battle of wills.”

Oh, my very dear Miss Blake, this is truly a battle and it has only just begun.

…

The next afternoon, Giles stepped from his carriage and climbed the stairs to Lord Montford’s townhouse. A liveried footman opened the door and bowed when Giles presented his card. “They are gathered in the drawing room, Mr. Templeton. I will announce you.”

The entrance hall was well done, nothing at all ostentatious. Black and white tiles stretched from the door as far as he could see. Muted silk paper covered the walls of the entire entranceway. A bust of some man—no doubt a pompous ancestor—rested on a pillar next to the staircase, staring with vacant eyes in his direction.

Once he’d handed over his hat and cane to the footman, he was led up the stairs where the sound of subdued conversation led them to the drawing room.

“Mr. Giles Templeton,” the footman announced, then he stepped aside so Giles could enter the room. There were five ladies and two gentlemen, as well as Miss Blake, in attendance. An older woman, whom Giles knew to be Lady Montford, sat on a settee near the window.

At least eight vases of flowers graced the room. He hadn’t sent flowers, because he knew everyone else would. He preferred to wage his campaign in person, and not rely on a few posies to do the job.

“Good afternoon, Lady Montford, Miss Blake.” He bowed and took the seat near Lady Montford that Lord Pomeroy had vacated, announcing he would be on his way. Two of the other ladies left with him, and Giles hoped they would all leave so he could have some time alone with Miss Blake. Lady Montford sat, watching the group as if she expected one of the men would hop up and ravish her charge at any moment.

“Would you care for tea, Mr. Templeton?” Miss Blake touched the teapot in front of her. “I am afraid this one is cold; I can send for more.”

“No. Don’t trouble yourself. I had a late luncheon.”

“If you’re sure?”

He grinned. “I am quite sure.”

“I say, Templeton, did I hear that Lord Loverly had escaped his prison hold and is wandering about London? Isn’t he the traitor the Duke of Bedford brought back from America?” Mr. Davis leaned forward on his seat, his eyes bright with excitement.

Too bad the man didn’t know Miss Blake would have no use for him, since he was only the fifth son of the Earl of Devlin.

“Yes. He has apparently escaped, but I doubt very much if he is running around London. He would be stupid to do such a thing with everyone on the lookout for him.”