The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (5 page)

Beside her dear friends from the Broadmoor Academy, Pippa’s eyes continually sought the entranceway to the Davenports’ ballroom, in the vain hope that Lord Colebooke would make an appearance. Thus far he had not.

“
Perhaps he attended another function,” Moria Kirwood suggested.

Patience Findlay smiled sadly. “This is hardly the event of the year.”

“
Hopefully, we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” Georgie Bexley-Smythe added.

“
I wish you’d seen him,” she said to her friends. “Like a dashing Sir Galahad. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“
Who is?” Harry asked, appearing at her shoulder without any sort of warning.

“
No one,” Pippa said quickly. “And you shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”

Harry scowled. “No. I shouldn’t
be
here
. But someone has to keep an eye on you. Who were you talking about? Tell me now.”

“
So his face can accidently meet your fists a few times?” Pippa turned her back on her favorite brother. “I think not.”

“
Just tell me it isn’t St. Austell,” Harry begged.

Pippa laughed, she couldn’t help it. “That, Harry,” she said, “I can solemnly vow. I haven’t laid eyes on St. Austell since last night.” At least she didn’t think so. Both she and Lord Colebrooke had scanned the park looking for the blackguard with nothing to show for their efforts.

“
Keep it that way,” her brother warned, as though she was anxious to make the scoundrel’s acquaintance again. Or for the first time. Or… whatever it would be, since she couldn’t remember him as it was.

“
Should Lord St. Austell be foolish enough to speak to me, Harry, I will send him your direction. I promise.”

As soon as Harry heaved a sigh and turned his attention back to the throng of guests, Patience tugged Pippa’s arm, pulling her closer into their group of four. “What
did
happen last night?” her friend asked.

Pippa shook her head. “I don’t remember a thing,” she said, her voice pitched low to keep anyone else from overhearing the conversation. “I don’t even remember arriving at the Heathfields’. I don’t remember encountering Mr. Potsdon. I don’t remember St. Austell.”

“
He is quite handsome,” Moria added, a scandalous tone to her voice. “Pity he’s not a Scot.”

Pippa sighed. “So you said earlier, but I can’t believe he could even hold a candle to Lord Colebrook.” And at that, all four girls turned their gazes back towards the entrance, as though in search of the elusive viscount.

What was it a gentleman was supposed to bring to a proper lady he was courting? Flowers? A box of candy? Sonnets expounding the chit’s beauty? Not that Jason was truly courting the lady, but clearly he was out of practice. Normally, he sent his paramours a pretty bauble or trinket after their time spent together. But giving a gift like that to Pippa Casemore would either earn Jason another round with Berkswell’s fists, a special license with his name on it, or both. He shuddered at the thought as though someone had walked across his grave.

Hopefully the lady would be happy with just Jason’s presence this afternoon as he hadn’t brought her anything else.

A bauble, he suddenly decided on the spot.

He’d have to pick out a nice bauble for her when all of this was over. Berkswell be damned. Maybe something encrusted with emeralds that matched her eyes.

He’d patiently waited in a hack, not far from Berkswell House on Upper Brook Street, for the marquess to leave for parliament and for his younger brother to leave for his club or wherever else he went during the days. As soon as Jason thought it was safe, he hopped from the conveyance, tossed the driver a few coins, then bounded across the street and up the steps to Pippa’s home.

A stoic butler hauled open the door and cast a dismissive eye across Jason and his slightly rumpled cravat. Well, he
had
waited in the hack a rather long time. Of course the thing was slightly rumpled. His lackluster valet never used enough starch as it was.

Well, Berkswell’s butler could turn his dismissive gaze on someone else. Jason reached into his pocket and withdrew a newly printed calling card, emblazoned with the name Viscount Colebrooke. The damn thing had taken longer to have printed than he’d liked, but what was he to have done? He couldn’t go empty handed and he certainly couldn’t call on her with his St. Austell cards. His ruse would be up in heartbeat.

Jason handed the heavy vellum to Berkswell’s butler and said, “Is Lady Philippa receiving callers today?”

The servant glanced at the card in his hand as though it was an asp that might attack him. “Wait here, my lord, and I’ll see if the lady is available.”

Left cooling his heels in Berkswell’s entryway? Jason almost snorted as the butler disappeared down the corridor. Discriminating servant, indeed. The name Colebrooke wasn’t even a tarnished one. Hmm. Could the man tell, simply by looking at Jason, that he was a black-hearted scoundrel? Probably.

No matter, as long as Pippa thought highly of him, it didn’t matter what her butler thought. Jason stood his tallest, hoping for a look of innocent serenity, and was relieved when the servant returned a moment later.

“
Follow me, sir.”

Jason smothered a triumphant smirk as he fell in behind Berkswell’s butler. The man led him down the corridor and into a sunny parlor. Lady Philippa stood beside a green settee and a rather old woman snored slightly in a high back chair a few feet away.

The butler cleared his throat. Loudly.

The old woman bolted upright and blinked her eyes open. Jason resisted the urge to send the man sprawling across the floor for purposefully waking Pippa’s chaperone. Apparently the butler could tell what sort of man Jason truly was. Interfering servant.

Jason tipped his head in greeting to the old woman, then he turned his smile on Pippa Casemore. God in heaven, she truly was beautiful. He’d nearly forgotten just how pretty she was in the days that had passed since he’d seen her. “My lady,” he said softly.

“
Lord Colebrooke.” Her face lit with joy as she spoke. “I had worried…that is…I am so pleased you’ve come to call.”

She’d been worried? About him? Hmm. Interesting, indeed. Jason glanced back over his shoulder where the butler stood, and he raised his brow in victory. “Thank you, my good man.”

“
Davis,” Pippa said quickly. “Will you please bring tea and some… “ She glanced back at Jason. “Do you like biscuits, my lord?”

With the way her green eyes twinkled when she looked at him, he was fairly certain he’d like anything she wanted him to. “Yes, of course.”

“
Wonderful,” she said softly, grinning from ear to ear. “And some biscuits, Davis.”

“
Of course, my lady,” the butler grumbled before disappearing down the corridor.

Jason crossed the floor and didn’t even try to hide his grin when she offered him her hand. He brushed his lips across her knuckles, though his gaze never left hers. There was something so pure, so artless in the way she looked at him, not at all like the heated, lustful gazes widows and unhappily married ladies often sent his direction. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his heart lifted a bit. What a ridiculous thought. He shook it from his mind.

“
I am so happy to see you again,” he said, meaning every last word, strangely enough.

A light snore emanated once more from the corner of the room and Pippa shook her head and sighed. “My poor aunt does find it difficult to keep Town hours, I’m afraid.”

And that was the best news Jason had heard all day. “Well, you’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

Unable to find words that wouldn’t make her sound like a ninny, Pippa only smiled back, certain her cheeks were stained pink. “Let’s do have a seat, my lord,” she finally said as she sat on the edge of the settee.

Lord Colebrooke dropped down beside her and reached for her hand. Warmth raced up her arm, settling somewhere near her heart as his thumb traced circles across the back of her knuckles. “I have thought of little except you since our chance meeting, my lady.”

What a lovely thing to say. Pippa’s heart fluttered. She had begun to worry that she’d never lay eyes on the viscount again. “I—I haven’t seen you anywhere since that day.”

“
I’d feared you might have forgotten me,” he said, sounding quite pleased that she hadn’t. “Have you been looking for me?”

“
I…that is…I’ve thought about you since that day, my lord. I suppose I hoped to see you at some ball or soiree.” Pippa’s face heated anew.

His hand slowly trailed up her arm, leaving tingles and gooseflesh in its wake. His light blue eyes focused so intently on her, Pippa’s breath caught in her throat. “I’ve had business that required my attention,” he drawled smoothly, “but I’m here now.”

“
B-business?” she stammered, her mind a jumble from his touch at her elbow. But she truly did want to know everything about him. What his interests were. What his family was like. How he occupied his days.

“
Hmm.” His voice rumbled over her. “You have the most remarkable eyes. Did you know that?” His hand trailed further up her arm. “So pretty and innocent. I think I could stare into them all day.”

Pippa’s insides melted. Unlike her friends, she hadn’t come to London this Season with any real hopes of finding a husband or seeking adventure. She’d simply wanted to enjoy the social whirl, attend the theatre, see the sights her brothers had talked about over the years. What were the odds she’d fall in love with a gentleman the very first week of her very first Season?

Davis cleared his throat from the threshold, carrying a tea service and plate of biscuits on a tray. Pippa bolted to her feet and gestured to the table beside her Great-Aunt Eunice. “Right there will be perfect, Davis. Thank you.”

The butler nodded, placed the tray on the table, and if Pippa wasn’t mistaken, purposefully tripped over Great-Aunt Eunice’s feet as he started to depart the parlor. Her aunt sat upright, her milky eyes wide once again.

“
Who’s there?” Aunt Eunice demanded.

“
Pardon me, ma’am,” Davis muttered on his way out the door.

Pippa crossed the floor and laid a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Aunt Eunice. Davis tripped is all.”

Her aunt nodded as though that made all the sense in the world. Then her eyes landed on Lord Colebrooke. “Who are you?”

The viscount sat a little taller on the settee. “I—well…”

“
Aunt, this is Viscount Colebrooke,” Pippa soothed. “My lord, this is my great aunt, Miss Eunice Mills.”

“
Miss Mills.” Lord Colebrooke nodded in greeting. “So nice to make your acquaintance.”