The Lady Gambles (8 page)

She gave a weary sigh, as tired now as he had claimed to be earlier. ‘You have said so many things to me tonight—to which nugget of wisdom do you refer?’

‘I also seem to recall we have said a great many things to each other—and most of them impolite.’ The earl’s mouth twitched ruefully. ‘But the advice I am referring to now is not to attempt to leave here without my knowledge. As I have said, it is not my wish to alarm you,’ he added more gently as she visibly tensed. ‘But, until I know more about the events of this evening, I cannot stress strongly enough your need for caution.’

Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘Truly?’

‘Truly,’ he echoed grimly.

Caro could only stand numbed and silent as Dominic closed the door softly behind him as he left, the walls of the bedchamber instantly seeming to bear down on her, making her their captive.

No—making her Lord Dominic Vaughn’s unwilling captive…

C
aro awoke refreshed, a smile curving her lips as she felt the sun shining upon her face while she lay snuggled beneath the warmth of the bedclothes. That smile swiftly faded as she remembered exactly where she was. Or, more exactly, who owned the bed she had been asleep in. That arrogant, silver-eyed devil Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone!

Her eyes opened wide and she looked about her in alarm as she tried to gauge what time of day it was. The sun had not been shining in the bedchamber when she’d finally drifted off to sleep earlier, and now it completely lit up and warmed the room, meaning that she must have slept for several hours, at least.

Sleeping during the day had seemed decadent to her a week ago, but she had quickly learned that it was impossible for her to do anything else when the gambling club did not open until—

No, Nick’s would now not be opening at all for several days, according to Dominic, which meant she could
not work there in the evenings, either. She had enough money for the moment, courtesy of Drew Butler having paid her when she’d arrived for work the previous evening. But how was she supposed to fill her time now, incarcerated at Blackstone House for several days at least?

Caro had always disliked the usual pursuits expected of women of her class; her embroidery work was nondescript, and she had no talent for drawing or painting. She rode well, but doubted she would enjoy the sedateness of riding in the London parks. Perhaps Dominic had a decent library she might explore? She had always liked to read—

What was she doing? she wondered with disgust; as she had realised earlier this morning, she was not to be a guest here, but held virtually as a prisoner, albeit in a gilded cage, until Dominic Vaughn deemed it was safe for her to leave.

She threw the bedclothes back restlessly and swung her legs to the floor before standing up, only to become instantly aware of the garment the earl had provided for her to sleep in. White in colour, and reaching almost down to her knees, with buttons from the middle of her chest to throat and at the cuffs of the long sleeves, the garment could only be one of Dominic’s own silk evening shirts.

A sensuously soft and totally decadent gentleman’s white silk evening shirt. A garment that, once it had slid softly over Caro’s nakedness, had evoked just as sensuous and decadent thoughts of the gentleman it belonged to…

Caro dropped down upon the side of the bed as she
recalled the wickedness of her thoughts before she had drifted off to sleep. Of how those memories, of Dominic’s lips and tongue upon her bared breasts earlier, had once again made her breasts swell and the strawberry tips to become hard and engorged, evoking a warm rush of moisture between her thighs that had sent delightful rivulets of pleasure coursing through her when she’d clenched them tightly together. She—

‘You’re awake at last, madam.’ A young maid had tilted her head around the slightly opened door, but she pushed that door completely open now before disappearing back into the hallway for several seconds.

Long enough, thankfully, for Caro to climb quickly back beneath the bedclothes and pull them up to her chin before the maid reappeared carrying a silver tray she dearly hoped had some tea and toast upon it; she had not eaten for some time and just the thought of food caused her stomach to give an unladylike growl. She grimaced self-consciously as the smiling maid bustled about opening up the small legs beneath the tray before placing the whole across Caro’s thighs above the bedclothes.

Not only was there tea and toast, Caro realised greedily, but two perfectly poached eggs and several slices of sweet-smelling ham. ‘This looks delicious.’

‘I’m sure it will be, madam.’ The young girl bobbed a curtsy. ‘His lordship surely has the best cook in London.’

Unfortunately Caro’s appetite had suddenly deserted her. The maid’s continual use of the title ‘madam’ was a timely reminder that she was supposed to be Dominic Vaughn’s poor and widowed cousin, a deception that did
not please her at all. She didn’t want to be connected to Dominic in any way, even in a falsehood!

‘Eat up, madam,’ the maid encouraged brightly as she hovered beside the bed. ‘The dressmaker has been waiting downstairs for quite some time already.’

The dressmaker Caro had told the earl she did not require. She should have known that the arrogant man would completely disregard her instruction. Just as she fully intended to disregard his!

She smiled up at the maid. ‘What is your name, dear?’

‘Mabel, ma’am.’

Caro nodded. ‘Then, Mabel, could you please go downstairs and inform the dressmaker that there has been a mistake—’

‘No mistake has been made, Caro,’ Dominic drawled as he strolled uninvited into the bedchamber, crossing the room on booted feet until he stood beside the bed looking down mockingly at a red-faced Caro. That silver gaze raked over her mercilessly before he turned to the blushing young maid. ‘That will be all, thank you.’

‘My lord. Madam.’ The young girl bobbed a curtsy to them both before hurrying from the room.

Caro wished that she might escape with her, but instead she once again found herself the focus of those chilling silver eyes as the earl stood tall and dominating beside the bed. And looking far too handsome, she thought resentfully, in buff-coloured pantaloons above black Hessians, a severe black superfine stretching the width of those wide shoulders, with a grey waistcoat and snowy white shirt beneath.

No doubt a white silk shirt similar to the one that she now wore as a nightgown!

‘Impoverished widowed cousin or not, I do not believe that entitles you to enter my bedchamber uninvited, my lord,’ Caro hissed when she at last managed to regain her breath.

Dominic could not help but admire how beautiful Caro looked with her golden curls loose upon the pillows and the pertness of her breasts covered only by the white silk of one of his own dress shirts, the nipples standing firm and rosy beneath the sheer material.

His jaw clenched now as he once again resisted the urge to push that material aside and feast himself on those firm and tempting buds. ‘Eat up, Caro; the dressmaker does not have all day to waste while you laze about in your bed.’

Her cheeks coloured with temper. ‘I distinctly remember telling you that I did not require the services of a dressmaker.’

‘And I distinctly recall telling you that I refuse to see you dressed in one of those drab gowns a moment longer.’ Dominic bent calmly to pluck a slice of ham from the plate upon the laden tray after making this announcement.

Caro found her gaze suddenly riveted upon his finely sculptured lips and the white evenness of his teeth, as he took a bite of the delicious-smelling ham, unsure if the moisture that suddenly flooded her mouth was caused by that mouthwatering ham or the unexpected sensuality of watching Dominic eat…

Those lips and teeth had been upon her breasts only
hours ago, the tongue he now used to lick his lips having swirled a delicious pattern of pleasure on her flesh.

She wrenched her gaze away from the earl’s dangerously handsome face as the contents of the tray placed across her thighs rattled in rhythm with her trembling awareness. ‘I fear I am no longer hungry.’ Her fingers curled about the handles of the tray as she attempted to remove it.

‘Careful!’ Dominic Vaughn took the tray from her shaking fingers to lift it and place it on the dressing-table before turning back to face her, the sunlight shining in through the window once again giving his hair the blue-black appearance of a raven’s wing as that silver gaze narrowed on her critically. ‘Speaking as a man who prefers a little more meat on the bones of the women he beds, I do believe you need to eat more,’ he finally drawled.

Her chin rose challengingly. ‘Speaking as a woman who has no interest in your preferences regarding “the women you bed”, I prefer to remain exactly as I am, thank you very much!’

Dominic gave an appreciative grin; Caro had obviously lost none of her feistiness in the hours since he last saw her.

They had been busy hours for him, as he first set some of his associates from the army ranks, now civilians, the task of investigating Nicholas Brown’s dealings over the past few days, before dispensing with his own household and estate business, and then returning to Nathaniel’s home to see how his friend fared. Dominic’s mouth tightened grimly as he thought of the other man’s discomfort and obvious pain.

‘Before you dismiss the dressmaker so arbitrarily, I believe you should be made aware that when your things were brought from your lodgings earlier, I instantly instructed one of the maids to consign all of the gowns inside into the incinerator,’ he announced with satisfaction.

Caro gasped. ‘
All
of them?’

‘All.’

Her startled gaze moved to the chair where she had placed her green gown earlier, only to find that chair now empty apart from her underclothes. And if the earl had indeed sent all her other gowns to be burned, then he must have included the three fashionable gowns Caro had brought to London with her two weeks ago. She turned back to him accusingly. ‘You had no right to touch my things!’

‘You were refusing to replace them.’ Dominic gave an unapologetic shrug. ‘It seemed easier to leave you with no choice in the matter rather than continue to argue the point.’

Her eyes sparkled indignantly. ‘And I suppose I am now expected to go down to the seamstress dressed only in my shift?’

It was a pleasant thought, if an impractical one, Dominic accepted. ‘She will come up here to you, of course. With, I might add, two gowns at least that you should be able to wear immediately.’ He had personally instructed the dressmaker to bring a gown of sea-green and another of deep rose, the one reminding him of Caro’s eyes, the other the tips of her breasts when they were aroused.

‘Have you received word on how Lord Thorne fares?’

Dominic’s thoughts of the anticipated changes to Caro’s appearance completely dissipated at this re minder of the attack on one of his two closest friends. Not that he would ever forget that first moment of seeing Osbourne covered in blood in the early hours of this morning.

How could he, when it was such a stark reminder of the last memories Dominic had of his mother sixteen years ago?

He moved away from the bed to stand in front of one of the picture windows, his back to the room, his hands clasped tightly together behind his back as he fought back those memories. Memories that had returned all too vividly after Caro had questioned him concerning his family…

He breathed in deeply before answering. ‘I have done better than that; I have been to see him.’ He went on to explain that Nathaniel’s aunt, Mrs Gertrude Wilson, having learnt that her nephew had suffered injuries and was confined to his bed, had wasted no time in having her own physician visit him, and fully intended removing Osbourne to her own home in St James’s Square later this afternoon. An occurrence that aided Dominic’s determination to ensure the future protection of his friend.

Dominic hoped to have some news later today concerning the enquiries into last night’s attack, but if those enquiries should prove unhelpful, then he had plans of his own for later this evening that may give him some of the answers, if not all of them.

‘And?’ Caro prompted with concern as Dominic fell broodingly silent.

‘And the physician has discovered he has two cracked ribs to go with his many cuts and bruises.’

Caro knew by the harshness of the Dominic’s tone that he was far from happy at this news of his friend’s condition. ‘I am sure that he will recover fully, my lord.’

He did not look in the least comforted by her reassurances. ‘Are you?’

‘He is otherwise young and healthy,’ Caro nodded. ‘Now if—if you would not mind, I should like to get out of bed now.’ She had not had time to deal with her morning ablutions before her bedchamber was invaded, first by the maid, and then Dominic Vaughn, and that need was becoming more pressing by the moment.

He raised dark brows. ‘I was not aware I was preventing you from doing so?’

‘You know very well that your very presence here is preventing me from getting out of bed.’

He gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘You have flaunted yourself in a gambling club for this past week, in front of dozens of men, but now take exception to my seeing you clothed in one of my own shirts?’

Caro gave a pained frown. ‘The gown I wore at those performances covered me from neck to toe.’

‘And titillated and aroused the interest of your audience all the more because of it!’

Had it titillated and aroused this man’s interest? she wondered breathlessly. Obviously something had, if his passion earlier this morning was any indication. A passion she had responded to in a way that still made her blush. ‘Then it would seem the sooner I am clothed in one of my new gowns, the better it will be for everyone.’

His gorgeous mouth curved into a pleased smile.
‘You are sufficiently recovered from your previous outrage to now accept the new gowns?’

Caro bristled. ‘I believe it is more a case of having little choice in the matter when you have had all of my own gowns burned. I should become a prisoner of this bedchamber rather than just the house if I did not accept the new gowns, would I not?’

He winced. ‘You are not to be a prisoner here, Caro, only to take the precaution of being accompanied if you should decide to go about.’

‘I do not even know where “here” is!’ she snapped caustically.

‘Blackstone House is in Mayfair,’ he elaborated. ‘And as soon as you are dressed, and the seamstress has gone about her business, I will be only too happy to take you out for a drive in my carriage.’

‘Accompanied by the maid I do not have?’ she came back derisively.

‘We are believed to be cousins, Caro,’ he reminded her drily. ‘Making such a fuss about the proprieties would be a nonsense.’

‘In that case, if you would send the dressmaker up to me now I should very much like to go out for a drive.’

Her tone, Dominic noted ruefully, was almost as imperious as Osbourne’s Aunt Gertrude’s. Further evidence, if he should need it, that Caro Morton was a woman used to instructing her own servants and having those instructions obeyed. Because she was, in fact, a lady of quality?