A Regency Lady's Scandal: The Lady Gambles / The Lady Forfeits. Carole Mortimer

eyes widened. ‘How do you know I am not until we have played together?’

      He quirked a brow. ‘A game in the nursery with your nanny does not equip you to play a champion.’

      Caro bristled. ‘You are being presumptuous, sir!’

      ‘Concerning your game or the nanny?’

      ‘Both!’ Caro was all too well aware how determined Dominic was to learn more of her past. ‘But being a gentleman of the ton, perhaps you would find it more of a challenge if I were to propose a wager?’

      He eyed her guardedly. ‘What sort of wager?’

      ‘Are you any further forwards in your enquiries concerning the attack upon Lord Thorne?’

      Dominic’s expression became even more cautious. ‘I am hoping to receive news on the subject later today.’

      ‘But you are not sure?’ she pressed.

      Dominic’s mouth tightened. ‘At this precise moment, no.’

      Caro nodded briskly. ‘In that case, if I win, I would like for you to find me other accommodation sooner rather than later.’

      Those silver eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

      ‘I do not have to state a reason, my lord, merely name a forfeit,’ she pointed out primly. ‘And if you win—’

      ‘Should I not be allowed to choose your own forfeit for myself?’ Dominic interjected softly, those silver eyes glittering in challenge.

      She drew in a deep breath, not at all sure she had not ventured beyond her depth, after all; Dominic seemed utterly convinced that he would win any game of chess between them. But she could not back down now; she owed it to other females who played chess to defend their reputation against such obvious male bigotry! Besides which, she dearly wished to escape Blackstone House. And the disturbing Lord Dominic Vaughn … ‘Name your forfeit, my lord.’

      ‘Dominic.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘That is your forfeit?’

      ‘That is only an aside request, Caro, and not the actual forfeit,’ he said. ‘I am sure you will not find it too difficult to do; you seem to have no trouble at all in calling me Dominic before launching yourself into my arms!’ Those silver-coloured eyes openly laughed at her now beneath long dark lashes.

      Caro’s cheeks burned, not at all sure which occasion he was referring to—there had been so many, it seemed! ‘Very well, name my forfeit … Dominic.’

      He seemed to give the matter some thought. ‘You will reveal something of your true self to me, perhaps?’

      Caro looked at him warily. She knew of her own ability in playing the game of chess, but Dominic’s self-confidence could not be overlooked, either; he was so obviously sure of his ability that he had not even attempted to dispute the forfeit she would demand of him if she were the victor. To agree to tell him something of her true self was not something she had ever intended doing, either now or in the future. But then, neither did she intend allowing him to win this game of chess … ‘Very well, I agree.’ She gave a haughty inclination of her head.

      Dominic lounged back in his chair, his expression one of boredom as the game began, sure that he was wasting both his own time and hers by playing at all.

      After only a few more moves in the game he knew that victory was not going to be so easily won. Caro’s opening gambit had been an unusual one, and one Dominic had put down to her lack of experience in the game, but as he now studied the pieces on the board he saw that if the game continued on its current path, then she would have him in check for the first time in only three more moves.

      ‘Very good,’ he murmured appreciatively as he moved his king out of danger.

      Caro could see that, instead of continuing to lounge back uninterestedly, she now had all of Dominic’s attention. ‘Perhaps we might play in earnest now?’ Her heart did a strange leap as he looked up to smile across the table at her. A warm and genuine smile that owed nothing to his usual expression of mockery or disdain, and instead leant a boyish charm to the usual severe austerity of his face.

      ‘I am looking forward to it, Caro,’ he replied, his attention now fully on the chessboard.

      The maid, Mabel, had come in and attended to the fire, and Simpson had arrived to light several candles whilst the game continued, but neither opponent had even been aware of their presence as they concentrated completely on the chessboard between them.

      It had become more than a game of chess to Caro; it had come to represent the inequality of the relationship that currently existed between the two of them. An equality that would not have existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Lady Caroline Copeland, but which most definitely existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Caro Morton. As such, it had become more than a battle of wills to Caro, and she played like a fiend in her determination not to be beaten.

      Something that Dominic was well aware of as he studied her flushed and determined face between narrowed lids. Her eyes were more green than blue in their intensity, and the flush added colour to her otherwise porcelain white cheeks and down across the full swell of her breasts. Those rosy tips were no doubt deeper in colour, too, and were perhaps swollen and begging for the feel of his—

      ‘Check!’ Caro announced with barely concealed excitement.

      Dominic’s attention was reluctant to return to the board rather than considering the taste of Caro’s breasts. He moved his own piece out of danger.

      Irritation creased Caro’s brow before clearing again as she made another move. ‘Check.’

      Dominic studied the board intently for several seconds. ‘I believe that we will only continue in this vein ad nauseam, and that this game, therefore, must be declared a draw.’

      She eyed him mockingly. ‘Unless you were to concede?’

      ‘Or you were?’

      She sat back in her chair. ‘I think not.’

      ‘Then we will call it a draw.’ Dominic said. ‘And hope that one of us will be the victor on the morrow.’

      ‘We could play again now—’

      ‘It is time for dinner, Caro,’ he murmured after a glance at the clock on the mantel, surprised to learn that a full two hours had passed since they had began to play. Surprised, also, at how much he had enjoyed those two hours.

      Caro did not talk as she played, but neither was the silence awkward or uncomfortable. More, despite the fact they were in opposition to one another, it had been a companionable and enjoyable silence. And he, Dominic, decided as the realisation caused him to rise abruptly to his feet, was not a man to be domesticated to his fireside by any woman. Least of all a woman who steadfastly refused to reveal anything of her true self to him!

      ‘Does this mean that we both concede our forfeit or that neither of us does?’ she asked.

      Dominic’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back to where Caro had now risen gracefully from the table. ‘Stalemate would seem to imply that neither of us do,’ he replied. ‘As we are so late I suggest that neither of us bothers to change before dinner.’

      ‘Oh, good.’ She gracefully crossed the room on slippered feet as she confided, ‘I am so ravenously hungry.’

      Dominic found himself laughing despite his earlier uncomfortable thoughts concerning domesticity. ‘Has no one ever told you that ladies are supposed to have the appetite and delicacy of a sparrow?’ he drawled.

      ‘If they did, then I have forgotten,’ Caro retorted as they strolled through the hallway and into the small candlelit dining room together, another fire alight in the hearth there to warm the room.

      ‘I take it you are now, out of pure contrariness, about to show that you have the appetite and delicacy of an eagle.’ Dominic pulled her chair back, lingering behind her a