Chapter 6

Sobering. There wasn’t another word to accurately describe Thomas Vail’s funeral service other than sobering…Well, odd. Jack supposed the whole thing had been rather odd as well. Until that morning, he hadn’t realized how very little he’d actually known the Vail brothers. For one thing, he had no idea they were half gypsies. He wasn’t certain how he’d missed that fact over the years, and seeing Adam sporting red at the service and an unshaved beard had been…Well, odd, for lack of a better word. Jack couldn’t imagine showing up at anyone’s funeral dressed the way Adam Vail had been that morning. If he did so, he was fairly certain his own father would keel over dead from the shock…Which, now that Jack thought about it, might be worth the experiment.

Still, it was difficult to believe Thomas Vail had died, and to learn the cause of his death was unnerving. The pox? It hardly even seemed possible that so virile a man should die from that very virility. The merest mention of the word had made Jack shift uncomfortably in his seat. Damn it all, suffering from the pox was a fate worse than death, and Thomas was quite fortunate to have been released from that hellish existence. The whole thing made the idea of monogamy worth a serious look. Well, monogamy with the right lady, of course.

As if on cue, the right lady strolled into the parlor, looking quite distraught. Her poodle took one look at Jack, wagged his tail and bolted across the room to sit at Jack’s feet.

Jack pushed out of his seat at Lady Cassandra’s entrance and his heart twisted at the sight of dark circles around her eyes and the unnatural paleness of her skin. “My lady.” He stepped around Oscar. “Are you all right?”

A tight smile settled on her lips. “Nothing a return to Widcombe Hall won’t solve.”

So she hadn’t slept well. The circles around her eyes said as much. Poor girl. She did hate being at Keyvnor. Jack offered her his arm and a smile. “Difficult time sleeping last night?”

She shrugged and made no attempt to accept his offered arm. “Oscar went missing this morning and I couldn’t find him.”

He glanced down at the poodle who’d since followed him across the room. Alas, he didn’t have a bit of pheasant to offer the little dog today. “I’m glad he returned himself to you.”

“He never runs off at home. It’s almost as though he can’t help himself at Keyvnor.”

Jack nodded. “A new place with new smells and new things to investigate. You can hardly blame the little fellow.”

“I suppose so.” Lady Cassandra blew out a breath and she looked even more uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“What is it, my lady?”

Her brow squished up and she shook her head. “Never mind.”

Oh, damn it all. He was farther from earning her trust now than he had been yesterday. “Please tell me. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

She pursed her very kissable lips and then asked, “Did you hear a scream in the middle of the night?”

Jack had slept like the dead, which was probably not the best turn of phrase considering the way their conversation had gone the previous evening. So he simply shook his head. “You heard someone scream?”

She glanced at his still proffered arm and then into his eyes, a wariness in hers. “Not that I expect you to believe me.”

Well, now was the perfect time for Jack to make his apologies. “I have no reason to doubt you, Lady Cassandra. I do hope I haven’t made it seem as though I ever would.” He glanced down at his arm once more, still waiting for her to take it. He was starting to look like a fool.

“My father doesn’t believe me.” When her hand slid around his elbow, Jack felt as though he’d won a small victory and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“My dear, I do hope you won’t ever confuse me with your father.”

A small laugh escaped Lady Cassandra and her warm hazel eyes brightened a little. “Is there anyone you can’t charm, my lord?”

He didn’t particularly care if he charmed anyone else for the rest of his life, not as long as he was always able to charm her. “My own father,” he answered truthfully and gestured toward the large window. “Shall we make another attempt to stroll the gardens this afternoon, my lady?”

She hesitated before answering. “With all the rain this morning? I’m certain I’d sink down to my knees.”

That might be true, but Jack wasn’t ready to relinquish her company. So perhaps another tactic. “What about billiards, then? Have you ever played?”

She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Billiards?”

It was an unconventional suggestion, but Jack had never been known for being orthodox. “I’m happy to teach you,” he replied, and he would be only too happy to stand behind her, grasp her waist in his hands and whisper instructions in her ear. Just the idea of it, would make him hard as a fire iron. He could just imagine her leaning over the billiard table, her bottom sticking out over the edge, and it was all he could do not to groan.

“I’m sure my father wouldn’t approve of that.”

“Then let’s not tell him.” Jack winked at her. “Our little secret.”

Lady Cassandra’s pale cheeks flushed pink. “And once I leave Keyvnor, who would I ever play with, then?”

“I’m certain I could make arrangements to play with you as often as you’d like.”

A slight smile tipped her lips. “Are you saying you’d visit me in Somerset?”

He was fairly certain he’d travel to the ends of the Earth to visit her. Traveling to Somerset would hardly be an inconvenience. “Would you like for me to?”

Cassy’s cheeks stung. There was no question she was in over her head with Lord St. Giles. He was so much more practiced in the art of flirtation. The look in his eyes, as though she was the prettiest girl in the world, nearly took her breath away.

She cleared her throat. “I would think that your doing so would affect your dangerous reputation, should anyone learn you were visiting stuffy old me, my lord. And I know how much you value that reputation of yours.”

He tipped back his head and laughed. “I should have known my own words would get used against me at some point.”

Cassy couldn’t help but smile in return. Lord St. Giles’s laugh was so warm and genuine. And after the night she’d suffered through, just being in his presence did make her feel the tiniest bit safer.

“But I would gladly toss my dangerous reputation away—” he seemed to sober a bit “—if I could persuade you to play a little billiards with me.”

Heavens. Papa would have an apoplexy if he found out she was participating in such a masculine sport. Still, Papa hadn’t listened to her about any of her fears, so why was she overly concerned about what he would think? “You promise not to tell anyone?” she asked. After all, it was one thing to worry about whether or not Papa found out about her playing billiards and quite another for society as a whole to know she engaged in such a game with Lord St. Giles.

“You have my word,” he vowed.

And though he was known as a bit of a scoundrel and she wasn’t quite certain what his word was worth, Cassy did find solace in that vow. “Do you think you could teach me to play well enough that I could beat Michael?”

St. Giles laughed again. “That shall take less than one afternoon, my dear.”

In no time, Cassy found herself in the billiard room along with the devilish baron, staring at the table before them, testing the weight of a cue stick in her hand while Oscar sat guard at the door.

St. Giles placed a white ball near one end of the table. “The first shot is called the lag,” he began. “You can often beat Michael at this stage of the game.”

Cassy laughed. “There’s only one ball on the table.”

The baron seemed to bite back a grin. “Sometimes, my dear, that is all it takes.” He gestured to the table once more. “With your stick, you line up your shot and hit the ball so it will bounce off the far end of the table and roll back toward you. The player whose ball comes the closest to the cushion on this side of the table without hitting it wins the lag.”

“And what if you hit the cushion?” she asked, trying to figure out how one could make the ball stop in the right place.

“Then you’ll forfeit the lag.”

“What if both people hit the cushion?”

He laughed. “Both people won’t hit the cushion, Cassandra.”

A tingle coursed through her at the familiar way with which he addressed her. She shook her head to refocus on the matter at hand. “But what if they did?”

“Then neither of them should be playing billiards,” he returned with a grin. “Now if you win the lag, do you suppose you want to go first or second?”

It generally was best to go first in all games, wasn’t it? “First?” she guessed.

But St. Giles shook his head, and his dark hair fell across his brow. “After the lag, we’ll set up the table.” He brushed his hair from his face. “The player who goes first is always at a disadvantage because they’re breaking the balls apart. The fellow, or lady, who goes second has the advantage of setting up their shot with a more open table.”

“All right.” Cassy supposed that made sense, more sense than figuring out how to get the lag ball to stop in the right place.

“Now—” he gestured to the white ball on the table “—come over here and set up your shot.”

Cassy made her way to the small side of the table where St. Giles was standing. She’d seen Benjamin and her cousins play before, so she knew she was supposed to lean over the table and hit the white ball with the tip of her stick, but it seemed a little unruly. “I just move it like this?” she asked, jabbing the stick toward the ball.

She probably looked like a fool, and she certainly felt like one; but he didn’t laugh. In fact, his silvery eyes sparkled with something that looked like adoration. “With just a bit more finesse.” He stepped behind her and settled his hand on her waist.

The heat of his touch nearly seared her through the muslin of her gown and she couldn’t quite breathe.

And then the baron was pressed up against her back and said very softly in her ear, “You want your cue to land right in the middle of the ball and to send it straight across the table. If you tap it on one side or the other, you’ll never get it to bounce off the far cushion properly.”

The very last things in the world Cassy could concentrate on was the far cushion or the little white ball, not with him so close to her, not with his touch robbing her of her breath, not with the heat of his breath against her neck and the sandalwood scent of him swirling around her.

“Cassandra,” he rumbled her name and made a shiver race across her skin.

“I-I don’t think I’m very good at this game, Lord St. Giles.”

“Jack,” he corrected. Although he was behind her, she could hear the smile in his voice as he added, “Shall we play something else, my dear?” as his hand squeezed her hip, which she felt all the way to her toes and which settled quite deeply in her womb.

Heavens, anything she would play with him would see her most decidedly ruined. “I-I don’t…”

But his lips pressed against the side of her neck and Cassy couldn’t finish her sentence or even think a coherent thought for that matter. His hands slid to her belly and urged her backwards until she was pressed against him. Heat pulsed through her and she couldn’t help but rest her head against his chest.

He whispered against her neck, “You have captivated me since—”

Oscar barked out a warning.

“Cassy!” came Toby’s voice in the corridor.

With a sigh, Lord St. Giles…er…Jack released his hold on Cassy, and he took a step away from her. “In here,” he called to her brother.

Toby bounded inside the billiard room with Papa right on his heels. Her father frowned at her, and her brother gaped at the cue stick in Cassy’s hand. “What are you doing with that?”

Good heavens! If Oscar hadn’t barked when he had and Papa had found her and Jack just a moment ago, she’d have been done for. Cassy swallowed, hoping her voice would sound normal as she said, “Lord St. Giles offered to teach me how to play so I might beat Michael.” Papa wouldn’t like that, but it would be better than telling him that Jack had just been kissing her and holding her in his arms.

Toby cackled. “I can beat Michael.”

“I’m certain there’s something more appropriate you could be doing,” Papa grumbled, his eyes darting from her to Lord St. Giles. “Certainly Mr. Hunt didn’t summon you to Keyvnor.”

Jack sighed very nonchalantly. “Offered to keep Lord Michael company.”

Papa’s brow lifted in disdain. “Then perhaps you should find him and refrain from teaching my daughter how to play billiards.”

“Didn’t mean to impose,” Jack replied and he chanced a glance at Cassy.

Heavens, just a glance from him could make her warmer than the hottest summer day. She could still feel the place on her neck where his lips had touched her, and Cassy wasn’t certain if she’d ever feel anything so strongly for the rest of her life.

“Your mother is looking for you, Cassandra.” That was hardly good news. Cassy couldn’t remember the last time her mother was in a good humor.

“Is something wrong?” she managed to ask.

Papa heaved a sigh and flicked his gaze toward her poodle. “Seems Oscar broke a vase when he was running wild this morning. Your mother would like you to apologize to Lady Banfield.”

Oh, no!