Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(55)

“No.” He produced a benign smile. “Penelope was far too good for me. I assure you, Viscount Stamford will prove to be a worthier husband.”

“I don’t agree at all,” Totty said unhappily. “Oh, Lord Raiford, if only you had been here last night. I fear your absence may have encouraged them in this terrible folly.” Her round blue eyes, swimming with tears, pleaded for an explanation.

“I was…unavoidably detained,” Alex replied, rubbing his head ruefully.

“This has all been Wilhemina’s doing,” Totty fretted.

He looked at her intently. “How so?”

“If she hadn’t come here and put ideas into their heads…”

Suddenly Alex felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. “I believe the ideas were already there,” he said gently. “If we set aside our emotions, Mrs. Lawson, I think we might recognize that Penelope and Stamford are an ideally suited pair.”

“But Stamford is nothing compared to you!” Totty burst out impatiently, wiping her eyes. “And now…now you are no longer to be our son-in-law!”

“Apparently not.”

“Oh, my.” Totty sighed dejectedly. “With all my heart I wish…if only I had a third daughter to offer you!”

Alex stared at her blankly. Then he began to make an odd choking noise. Afraid he had succumbed to an apoplectic fit, Totty watched in horror as he sank down to the steps, sitting with his head clasped in his hands. His whole frame shook, and he breathed in ragged gasps. Gradually she realized he was laughing. Laughing. Her jaw dropped, her mouth forming a lopsided oval. “My lord?”

“God.” Alex nearly toppled over. “A third. No. Two is quite enough. Sweet Jesus. Lily’s worth ten if she’s worth anything!”

Totty regarded him with mounting alarm, clearly wondering if the turn of events had unhinged him. “Lord Raiford,” she said weakly, “I don’t think anyone would blame you for…forgetting yourself. However, I believe…I will take my tea in the parlor…a-and allow you some privacy.” She hurried away, her plump elbows churning like cogwheels.

“Thank you,” Alex managed to say, struggling to control himself. A few deep breaths and he was silent, though an open smile remained on his face. He wondered if he was all right. Oh, yes. There was a feeling of lightness inside him, a rampant surge of elation he couldn’t describe. It left him a little unsteady, restless, like a schoolboy on holiday. The feeling demanded action.

He was rid of Penelope. It was more than just a relief, it was a liberation. He hadn’t realized what a burden the engagement had been, an oppressive weight bearing down on him more heavily each day. Now it was gone. He was free. And Penelope was happy, at this moment probably in the arms of the man she loved. Lily, on the other hand, was completely unaware of what she’d started. Alex was filled with anticipation. He wasn’t through with Lily—oh, he hadn’t even begun with her.

“Alex?” Henry stood before him, looking at him closely. “They’ll bring tea from the kitchen soon.”

“Mrs. Lawson is in the parlor.”

“Alex…why are you sitting on the steps? Why do you look so…happy? And if you weren’t here last night, where were you?”

“As I recall, you have two appointments with potential tutors this afternoon. You could use a bath, Henry, as well as a change of clothes.” His eyes narrowed in warning. “And I’m not happy. I’m considering what to do with Miss Lawson.”

“The older one?”

“Naturally the older one.”

“What are you thinking of doing?” Henry asked.

“You’re not old enough to know.”

“Don’t be certain of that,” Henry said with a wink, and raced up the stairs before Alex could react.

Alex swore softly and grinned. He shook his head. “Lily Lawson,” he murmured. “One thing’s certain—you’ll be too busy with me to spend another night in Craven’s bed.”

Tonight was going just as last night had—dreadfully. Lily lost with grace and managed to preserve an air of confidence so that the men around her wouldn’t realize she was drowning right before their eyes. She was dressed in one of the most delectable gowns she owned, a garment of black embroidered net laid over a foundation of nude silk, giving the appearance that she was covered in little more than sheer black lace.

Standing at the hazard table with a group of dandies including Lord Tadworth, Lord Banstead, and Foka Berinkov, a handsome Russian diplomat, Lily wore a calm, cheerful expression like a mask. Her face felt like a mask, stiff and lifeless enough to peel off like so much paste and paper. Her chances of regaining Nicole were slipping through her fingers. She was hollow inside. If someone stabbed her, she wouldn’t even bleed. What is happening? she thought with panic. Her gambling had never been like this.

She was aware of Derek’s gaze on her as he moved about the room. His disapproval was unspoken, but she was aware of it nonetheless. Had Lily seen anyone else in her position, making such disastrous mistakes, she would have advised him to try again some other night. But she didn’t have time. There was only now and tomorrow. The thought of five thousand pounds nagged at her like so many sharp, tiny spurs. Fitz, the croupier, watched her actions without comment, his eyes not quite meeting hers. Lily knew she was playing too deep, too fast, taking senseless risks. Repeatedly she tried to catch herself, but it was too late. She was on the typical gambler’s slide—once started, impossible to stop.