A Lady Risks All (Ladies of Impropriety, 2, Band 1145) - Softcover

Scott, Bronwyn

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0373297459 ISBN 13: 9780373297450

Verlag: Harlequin Historical, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Seducing the Captain

It would be unwise to mistake me for an innocent debutante—for years I have graced the smoky gloom of many a billiards club and honed my skills at my father's side.

But now he has a new protégé—Captain Greer Barrington—and while my father would see me attract the attentions of an eligible lord I, Mercedes Lockhart, have other ambitions.… Even if that means seducing the captain to earn back my father's favor! I know I must avoid falling for Greer's charming smile…but his sensual kisses could be worth the risk.…

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Bronwyn Scott is the author of over 70 books. Her 2018 novella, "Dancing with the Duke's Heir" was a RITA finalist. She loves history and is always looking forward to the next story. She also enjoys talking with other writers and readers about books they like and the writing process. Readers can connect via Bluesky on Bluesky @bronwynscott.bsky.social.

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Brighton—March 1837

There was nothing quite as exhilarating as a man who knew how to handle his stick. Mercedes Lockhart put an eye to the discreet peephole for a second glimpse, separate trills of excitement and anxiety vibrating through her. Rumour was right, he did have an amazing crack.

Outside in the billiards hall, that crack would sound like a cannon. But here in the soundproof peeping room, she could only watch and worry about what his presence in her father's club meant.

There's someone I want you to meet. The phrase rang through her head for the hundredth time. When fathers said that to their daughters it usually meant one thing: a suitor. But those fathers weren't billiards great Allen Lockhart. He was more likely to bring home a gem-studded cue than a suitor. Perhaps that was the reason she'd been so surprised by the summons. 'Come down to the club, there's someone I want you to watch,' he'd said. It had been a long time since he'd needed her in that way. She didn't dare refuse. So, here she was, ensconced in the 'viewing room', eye riveted to the peephole, taking in the player at table three.

He was a man she'd have noticed even without her father's regard. Most women would. He was well built; broad shouldered and lean hipped, an observation made inescapable by the fact he was playing with his coat off. At the moment, he was bent at the waist and levelling his cue for the next shot, a posture that offered her a silhouette of trim waist and tautly curved buttock, framed by muscled thighs that tensed ever so slightly beneath the tight fawn of his breeches.

Her eyes roamed upwards to the strong forearms displayed tan against the rolled back cuffs of his white shirtsleeves, to the taper of lean fingers forming a bridge through which his cue stick slid effortlessly, expertly as he made his shot.

He straightened and turned in her direction, accepting congratulations on the shot. He pushed back the blond hair that had fallen over his face. Mercedes caught a glimpse of startling blue eyes; a deep shade of sapphire she could appreciate even at a distance. He was confident, not cocky in the way he accepted the congratulations of others. There was no doubt he handled his cue with ease, his playing strategy sound but straightforward, his use of the 'break' progressive and in line with the new style billiards was starting to take.

But Mercedes could see immediately there wasn't a lot of finesse in it. It was understandable. A player with his skill likely didn't see the need for finer machinations. That was something that could be improved upon. Mercedes halted her thoughts right there. Why? Why should she improve him? Is that what her father wanted her opinion for? What interest did the legendary Lockhart want with a handsome young billiards player? The anxiety that had plagued her trilled again. Was he a suitor for her? A protege for her father?

Neither option sat well with her. She had no intentions to marry although she was aware of her father's ambition for her to wed a title. It would be the final feather in his cap of self-made glory—Allen Lock-hart's daughter married to a peer of the realm! But she had other goals and neither a suitor nor a protege was among them.

Mercedes stepped back from the peephole and scribbled a short note to her father, who sat in the main room in plain sight. There was no skulking in private viewing chambers for him, she thought with no small amount of frustration. It hadn't always been like this: spying through peepholes and pretending she didn't exist. It used to be that she had the run of the place. But she'd grown up and it was no longer seemly or prudent, as past events had proven, for her to roam the halls of Lockhart's Billiards Club, no matter how elegant the setting or how skilled the player. The bottom line was that men didn't like to be beaten by a woman. Thus had ended her career of playing in public. For now.

This was why the thought of a protege met with her disapproval. If there was to be one, it should be her. She'd honed her own skill at her father's side. When she'd shown some aptitude for the game, he'd taught her to play as only a professional can. She'd learned his secrets and developed her own until she was on par with the best. Then she'd committed the crime of turning seventeen and her freedoms had been curtailed; in part by society and in part by her own headstrong judgement.

It was something of a curse that the one thing she was good at—no, not merely good at, excellent at—was a talent she did not get to display. These days she practised for herself, alone in the privacy of their home and she waited, forever ready if the chance to prove herself came her way.

Mercedes folded the note and sent it out to her father. She bent her eye to the peephole one last time, a thought occurring to her as she watched the man pot his final ball. Maybe he was her chance. Her earlier excitement started to hum again. She'd been waiting five years for her opportunity, alert for any possibility. In all that time, she'd never thought her chance would come in the form of a handsome Englishman—she'd had her fill of those. But if her father could use him, perhaps she could too.

Slow down, she cautioned herself. A good gambler always assessed the risk and there was risk here. If her father intended him to be a protege and she assisted with that, she could effectively cut herself out of the picture altogether. She would have to go carefully. On the other hand, it would be a chance to show her father what she could do in a situation where he would be unable to deny her talent.

It was a venture that could see her exiled or elevated, but she was nothing if not her father's daughter; a gambler at heart who knew the risks and rules of any engagement and chose to play anyway.

Gamblers of any successful repute generally acknowledged the secret to luck resided in knowing three things: the rules, the stakes and when to quit. No one knew this better than English billiards legend, Allen Lockhart. He couldn't remember a time when the stakes hadn't been high—they always were when all one had to risk was a reputation. As for quitting—if there was a time to quit, he hadn't discovered it yet, which was why the usual ritual of a brandy with long-time friend and partner, Kendall Carlisle, did not fill him with the usual satisfaction on this dreary March afternoon.

Normally this time of day was his favourite. It was a time when he could sit back in one of the club's deep chairs and savour his domain. His domain. Carlisle managed the place, but it had been his billiards money that had built this and more.

Across from him, oblivious to his restless observations, Carlisle took a swallow of brandy followed by a contented sigh. 'This is the life, Allen. Not bad for two junior boot boys.'

Allen smiled in response. It was a well-loved reminiscence of his. The two of them had done well over the years kowtowing to the rich gentlemen in the subscription rooms of Bath for shillings. They'd watched and they'd learned, eventually establishing their own small empire. Now they were the rich gentlemen. Now they ran the subscription rooms, not in Bath, but in more lucrative Brighton. They earned much more than shillings from customers these days. At the age of forty-seven, Allen Lockhart took great pride in having used the rules of billiards to rise above his poor beginnings.

From their grouping of chairs by the fire, Allen could hear the quiet snick of ivory balls on baize, the unmistakable sounds of lazy-afternoon billiard games going on in the...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Harlequin Historical
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2013
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0373297459
• ISBN 13: 9780373297450
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 288
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: HarperCollins Publishers; enquiries@harpercollins.ie; ; Fullham Palace Road 77-85; London; W6 JB; Vereinigtes Königreich