Regency Gamble: A Lady Risks All / A Lady Dares. Bronwyn Scott

      ‘How old do you think he is?’ Kendall would know. Information gathering was Kendall’s gift. His own was using it. The combined talent had been invaluable to them both over the years.

      ‘Mid-twenties. He’s been in a few times. His name’s Barrington. Captain Barrington,’ Kendall supplied as Lockhart had known he would.

      At that age, he and Kendall had been living on the road, Lockhart thought wistfully. They’d played any money game they could find in just about every assembly hall between Manchester and London. They’d run just about every ‘angle’ too—plucking peacocks, two friends and a stranger and a hundred more.

      ‘He’s bought a subscription,’ Kendall volunteered.

      ‘On half-pay?’ Any officer in town these days with time for billiards was on half-pay. But on that salary, a subscription to his fine establishment was a luxury unless one had other resources.

      Kendall shrugged. ‘I cut him a fair deal. He’s good for business. People like to play him.’

      ‘For a while.’ Lockhart shrugged. Barrington would have to be managed. If he was too good, players would tire of getting beaten and that would be just as bad for business. He didn’t want that to happen too quickly.

      ‘With the big championship coming up in July, I thought he might generate some additional interest,’ Carlisle began, but Lockhart’s mind was already steps ahead. Perhaps the Captain could be taught when to lose, perhaps he could be taught a lot of things. Carlisle was right. The young man could be very useful in the months leading up to the All England Billiards Championship. The old thrill began to course.

      ‘Thinking about taking a protégé?’ Kendall joked.

      ‘Maybe.’ He was thinking about taking more than a protégé. He was thinking about taking a trip. For what reason, he wasn’t sure yet. Perhaps the urge was nothing more than a desire to walk down memory lane one more time and relive the nostalgia of the old days. Perhaps he wanted more? His intuition suggested his restlessness was more than nostalgic desire. There were bigger questions to answer. At forty-seven, did he still have it? Could the legend make a comeback or was the ‘new’ game beyond him?

      ‘Is that all you’re thinking?’ He felt Kendall’s shrewd gaze on him and kept his own eyes on the game. It would be best not to give too much away, even to his best friend, if this was going to work. A footman approached with a folded note. Ah, Mercedes had announced her verdict.

      Lockhart rose, flicking a cursory glance at the simple content of Mercedes’s note and made his excuses, careful to school his features. Kendall knew him too well. ‘I’ve got to go and see about some business.’ Then he paused as if an inspiration had struck suddenly. ‘Invite our young man up to the house tomorrow night. It might be fun for him to see the new table and I want him to meet Mercedes.’

      If he was going to try this madcap venture at all, he would need her help. She’d already consented to the first bit by coming down today. The hard part would be convincing her to try it all on. She could be deuced stubborn when she put her mind to it. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to do the convincing. He’d leave that to a certain officer’s good looks, extraordinary talent with a billiards cue and a little moonlit magic. He knew his daughter. If there was anything Mercedes couldn’t resist it was a challenge.

       Chapter Two

      Captain Greer Barrington of the Eleventh Devonshire had seen enough of the world in his ten years of military service to know when the game was afoot. It was definitely afoot tonight, and it had been ever since Kendall Carlisle had offered him an invitation to the Lockhart party. There seemed little obvious logic in a man of Lockhart’s celebrity inviting an anonymous officer to dine.

      Greer surveyed the small assemblage with a quick gaze as Allen Lockhart greeted him and drew him into the group of men near the fireplace, a tall elegant affair topped with a mantel of carved walnut. Suspicions confirmed. First, the small size of the gathering meant this was a special, intimate cohort of friends and professional acquaintances. Second, Allen Lockhart lived finely in one of the forty-two large town houses that comprised Brunswick Terrace. Greer had not been wrong in taking the effort to arrive polished to perfection for the evening, and now the buttons on his uniform gleamed appreciably under the light of expensive brass-and-glass chandeliers.

      ‘You know Kendall Carlisle already from the club, of course.’ Allen Lockhart made the necessary introductions with the ease of a practised host. ‘This is John Thurston, the man behind the manufacture of the new table.’ Greer nodded in the man’s direction. He knew of Thurston. The man ran a billiards works in London and a billiards hall off St James’s.

      ‘John,’ Lockhart said with great familiarity, ‘this is Captain Greer Barrington.’ Lockhart had a fatherly hand at his shoulder and Greer did not miss the reference. Either Lockhart was a quick study of military uniforms or he’d done his research. ‘The Captain has a blistering break—sounds like a cannon going off in the club every time. He ran the table on Elias Pole yesterday.’

      Ah, Greer thought. So Lockhart had been watching. He’d thought he’d sensed the other man’s interest in his game. Appreciative murmurs followed with more introductions.

      Talk turned to billiards until a young woman materialised at Lockhart’s side, stopping all conversation—something she would have done without saying a word. ‘Father, dinner will be served shortly.’

      This gorgeous creature was Lockhart’s daughter? Whatever game was afoot, Greer mused, he’d gladly play it and see where it went if she was involved. There was no arguing her beauty. It was bold and forthright like the flash of a smile she threw his direction.

      ‘Captain, you haven’t met my daughter, Mercedes,’ Lockhart said affably. ‘Perhaps I could persuade you to take her in to dinner? I believe she’s seated you with her at the one end.’

      ‘It would be my pleasure, Miss Lockhart.’ Yet another pleasant addition to the evening. This invitation was turning out splendidly. Mercedes Lockhart was a stunning young woman with dark hair and wide grey eyes framed with long lashes. But there was an icy quality to that perfection. Beautiful and cold, Greer noted. Greer was confident he could change that. He smiled one of his charming smiles, the one that usually made women feel as if they’d known him much longer than they had.

      She was less than charmed. Her own smile did not move from that of practised politeness, her sharp grey eyes conducting a judicious perusal of their own. Greer stepped back discreetly from the group, drawing her with him until he had space for a conversation of his own.

      ‘Do I pass?’ Greer queried, determined to make this haughty beauty accountable for her actions.

      ‘Pass what?’

      ‘Inspection is what we call it in the military.’

      She blushed a little at his bluntness and he took the small victory. She looked warmer when she blushed, prettier too if that was possible, the untouchable coldness of her earlier hauteur melting into more feminine features.

      ‘I must admit more than a passing curiosity to see the man who beat Elias Pole. My father talked of nothing else at supper last night.’

      There was a fleeting bitterness in her tone, some of her hard elegance returning. Provoked by what? Jealousy? The defeat of her champion? Elias Pole was a man of middle years, not unattractive for his age, but certainly he wasn’t the type to capture the attentions of a young woman.

      Greer shrugged easily. ‘I am flattered I aroused your curiosity. But it was just a game.’

      Her eyebrows shot up at that, challenge and mild disbelief evident in her voice. ‘Just a game? Not to these men. It would be very dangerous to think otherwise, Captain.’

      Ah. Illumination at last, Greer thought with satisfaction. Now he had