The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (3 page)

“
Perhaps,” Jason agreed. But the idea of Pippa Casemore meeting some fellow in the trees brought a scowl to his face. “Someone ought to warn the fellow off.”

“
Someone?” Heath chuckled.

“
Oh, bugger off,” Jason grumbled as she started in the direction of Lady Philippa’s copse.

Pippa’s heart pounded so loudly, she could barely breathe. Those walking along Rotten Row must be able to hear it. How had she gotten herself into such a predicament? She pressed herself against a tree and closed her eyes, willing her pulse and breath to return to their normal paces after she’d bolted away from Lady Moira Kirkwood.

But what else could she have done? St. Austell was here! In the park! Blast it! She didn’t even know what the man looked like. How was she to avoid him?

“
Waiting for someone?” drawled a rich baritone voice.

Pippa’s eyes flew open. The most breathtakingly handsome man stood just a few feet away. Hair so dark across his brow it would blend perfectly with the midnight sky, which was contrasted by the softest, bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He looked almost like a dark, fallen angel as he reached into his jacket for a cheroot.

Pippa managed so shake her head. “Hiding.”

“
Hiding?” He quirked a grin at her and when he did, she tingled all the way to her toes.

“
There’s someone here I shouldn’t be seen with,” she said, then frowned at her own foolishness. What a ridiculous thing to say to a stranger. She was clearly not herself these days. What would the man think of her?

“
Indeed? Who are you hiding from, sweetheart?” He popped the cheroot into his mouth. “I’ll tell you if I spot him.”

Pippa winced, then glanced over at all of the fashionable people back on the path. It would be easier to avoid St. Austell if she remembered what the man looked like, but perhaps this fellow could help her in that regard. “Are you acquainted with Lord St. Austell?”

“
St. Austell?” An amused look flashed in the stranger’s eyes. “As it happens, I am familiar with the man, yes.”

“
Thanks heavens,” she sighed.

“
You’re hiding from St. Austell?” the man asked, a line appearing between his brows. At her nod, he continued, “Hardly strikes me as the type to trouble himself with girls fresh from the schoolroom. Tell me, has the blackguard been troubling you?”

Not really. At least Pippa didn’t think so, not that she could remember in any event. She shook her head. “I just shouldn’t be seen with him is all. My brothers would be most unhappy with me.” And Pippa hated to disappoint either Berks or Harry. The two of them had raised her since she was ten. More like fathers than brothers sometimes. If someone mentioned St. Austell to either of them… Pippa turned her attention back to Rotten Row. “Do you see him anywhere?”
The stranger came up from behind Pippa and placed his hand on her shoulder. The heat from his body seeped through her walking dress and warmed her back. “Hmm.” His voice rumbled over her like a caress. “No, I don’t see him at the moment. Are you sure he’s out there?”

Pippa wasn’t sure. Not of anything. “Someone said he was,” she muttered.

“
People are often mistaken,” the man replied.

“
I wish I knew what he looked like so I’d know how to avoid him.”

“
Difficult avoiding a fellow you can’t pick out of a crowd.” The stranger chuckled. “Should I happen upon St. Austell, I’ll warn him away from you, if you’d like.”

Pippa spun around to face the stranger. Heavens, he was much too close and much too handsome. She took a slight step backward. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr….?”

“
Colebrooke.” The man dipped his head in greeting. “
Viscount
Colebrooke at your service, Miss…?”

“
Lady Philippa Casemore,” Pippa replied and her breath caught in her throat as she gazed into Lord Colebrooke’s blue eyes. A lady could drown in those eyes, happily drown and never even know how it happened.

“
Well, Lady Philippa, I hate to think of St. Austell causing you worry, black-hearted villain that he is. Are you certain you don’t want me to dispense with the man? It would be my honor.”

Pippa shook her head. “I’m certain my bothers will protect me, should the need arise.”

“
Brothers do have a way of doing that.” He touched a hand to his nose. “If you are quite all right, I will take my leave.”

“
Thank you, Lord Colebrooke. It was kind of you to help me.”

“
My pleasure.” He grinned back, which made Pippa’s belly flutter then flip. “Perhaps I’ll see more of you in the days to come, sweetheart.”

What a lovely thought. Pippa would dream about such occurrences from this day forward, she had no doubt. “Perhaps,” she returned coyly.

Then as quickly as he’d appeared, Lord Colebrooke took his leave without a backwards glance.

Lord Colebrooke. She doubted any other man in all of London was as dangerously handsome. And he’d offered to be her own Sir Galahad where that despicable St. Austell was concerned. She couldn’t keep from sighing.

Colebrooke.
Jason scowled at himself as he pushed past London’s fashionable out for a stroll in the park. He stopped at the Park Lane entrance and looked back where he’d come from. He was too far away now to spot the enchanting chit, but he could still see her in his mind’s eye. Pretty light brown tendrils framing her face, perfectly kissable lips pursed in worry.

Why the devil had he told her he was Colebrooke? Colebooke, for God’s sake. It wasn’t a lie. Not really. He
was
Viscount Colebrooke, though no one had called him that since he was seven and his father had passed the earldom and the St. Austell name on to Jason. But that wasn’t really the point. Though as he stood alone on the edge of Hyde Park, he wasn’t certain what the point was.

He’d gotten his blasted nose smashed in because of Philippa Casemore. He should have demanded some sort of recompense from the girl, but… Well, he just somehow lost his head when she’d looked at him, when her big green eyes, so sincere and so troubled, had landed on him. If he’d admitted to being St. Austell at that moment, she’d have bolted like a skittish mare. And then where would he be? Arguably in a much better spot that he was now, with her thinking of him as his lesser title. And with him thinking about her at all. Quite disconcerting, that.

Jason should have told her who he was, but he’d quite enjoyed her discomposure, her concern in searching for him when he was only a hairsbreadth away from her.

That enjoyment quickly evaporated when the truth of the situation settled in his mind. Damn it all to hell, why didn’t she remember him? He remembered
her
. He remembered the way her breasts had pressed softly against his chest and warmed him despite his coat. He remembered the way her brandy-scented breath had tickled the side of his neck as they’d danced. He remembered how well she’d fit against him, almost perfectly. Damn it all, his cock twitched at the remembrance.

It was more than a little lowering to think he hadn’t made any sort of an impact on her. It was more than a blow to his ego. More than disconcerting. Women remembered him, after all. They all did, didn’t they? Of course they did. He was the Earl of St. Austell, for God’s sake.

But not Pippa Casemore. She didn’t remember his face nor his voice; only his blackened name was at the forefront of her mind. Wicked St. Austell, debaucher of the innocent, ruiner of reputations, the devil incarnate. Damn it all to hell. He’d never debauched one innocent. Not one. But there was something about Pippa Casemore that made him think he might enjoy the experience immensely. If she were the innocent in question, anyway. She wouldn’t forget him after that, would she?

Lord Cleasby bets Mr. Potsdon five hundred pounds that Lord St. Austell will bed Lady Philippa Casemore before the end of the season.

Jason snorted. Albie Potsdon was going to lose five hundred quid if it was the last thing Jason saw to. All he needed was a plan.

A scratch sounded at the parlor door. Pippa looked up from her needlepoint, happy for the interruption to her constant stream of inappropriate thoughts concerning one very striking viscount. “Come,” she called.

Davis, the butler, stepped over the threshold, “You have a caller, my lady.”

Colebrooke? Pippa’s heart leapt to her throat at the same time she leapt to her feet. She glanced over her shoulder where her great-aunt Eunice slept, sitting upright in a straight back chair. A chaperone was a chaperone, even if she was asleep, wasn’t she? Pippa didn’t want to waste any time on the particulars, not when Lord Colebrooke had come to call. “Do show him in, Davis.”

The butler departed, but not before casting Pippa a dismissive look as she began pinching her cheeks. But she paid no attention to the servant’s censure. Who would have thought the viscount would call on her so soon? She’d just met him that afternoon. He must have thought about her as much as she’d thought about him.

Pippa quickly smoothed her skirts into place and tried to assume a pose of nonchalance as Albie Potsdon stepped over the threshold… Albie Potsdon? Pippa blinked at Harry’s old friend and swallowed down the lump of disappointment. “Albie?” She tried to keep her apathy from reaching her voice, and worried she’d failed miserably when he winced. Or was it simply the blackened eye he sported? Or his discolored jaw? “Albie! What happened to you?”

“
Nothing,” he tried.

“
Nothing?” she echoed. “It looks like you were set upon by a pack of brigands.”

“
Not a
pack
.” A slight smile settled on his face as he crossed the floor. “It really is nothing. My face accidentally met Harry’s fists a couple of times, that’s all.”

Harry’s fists! Pippa gasped. “My brother hit you?”