Regency Gamble. Bronwyn Scott

his own glass and had gestured for her to sit down that she realised they were completely alone—the servants off at a discreet distance, her father peculiarly absent. ‘Where’s my father?’

      ‘He decided to ride on ahead. Apparently there’s a spring fair in the village an hour or so up the road.’ Greer began fixing a plate from the bread, cold meats and cheese spread out on the blanket. ‘He wants to make sure we have rooms at the inn.’

      Likely, he wanted more than that. He wanted to see the billiards situation, what kind of people were in town, which inn had a table, who was the big player in the area. He’d have the lay of the land and a new ‘best friend’ by the time they arrived.

      Mercedes glanced overhead at the sky. It was noon. They’d be in the village by two o’clock at the latest. There would still be plenty of time to stroll around the fair and enjoy the treat. They could have all gone together. An hour wouldn’t have cost her father anything. But he’d wanted to go alone. There was a reason for that. She’d have to be cautious and not acknowledge him unless he wanted her to. Perhaps he wanted them to appear to be strangers. He and Kendall had done that sort of the thing in the old days.

      ‘Mercedes, your plate.’ Greer had finished assembling the food and, to her surprise, the plate he’d been concocting had been for her. Of course it was. It was what a gentleman did and Greer did those things as effortlessly as he uncorked wine. She wondered how he would respond to the kinds of confidence games her father liked to play? The kind of games where the limits of honesty were grey areas?

      ‘Thank you.’ She settled the plate on her lap and watched him put together his own plate, long, tapered fingers selecting meats and cheese with purpose.

      ‘I was thinking you might like to ride this afternoon since the weather turned out to be nice,’ Greer offered. ‘I noticed both you and your father brought horses.’

      It would be perfect. The afternoon was far too fair to be cooped up in the carriage. It was the ideal conversational offering as well.

      They spent lunch talking about riding and horses, something she didn’t know half as well as she knew billiards. She liked listening to Greer talk about his stallion, Rufus, and other horses he’d owned. He had a face that came alive when he spoke, and an easy manner that was fully engaged now. She’d caught glimpses of it before; when they’d played billiards and this morning in the carriage, but always somewhat tempered by the side of him that never forgot he was an officer and a viscount’s son.

      This afternoon, sitting under the oak, he was quite simply himself. And she had been quite simply herself, not Allen Lockhart’s daughter, not always planning the next calculated move. It was nice to forget and she did forget right up until the flags of the fair came into view and it was time to remember what they were there for.

      ‘Should we find your father?’ Greer asked, looking for a place to leave the horses until the carriage and servants caught up to them.

      Mercedes smiled and dismounted. ‘I think we’ll let him find us. Meanwhile, you and I shall enjoy the fair.’

       Chapter Six

      This was pure recklessness, Mercedes privately acknowledged as they tethered the horses on the outskirts of the fairground. She was inviting all sorts of trouble being alone with the Captain. Not the usual kind of trouble. She was too old to need a chaperon and the Captain wasn’t likely to take advantage of her. Her danger lay in mixing business with pleasure. She was on this trip to groom him, introduce him to the world of professional billiards. She was not here to picnic under trees, or walk fairgrounds, or to play parlour games in coaches with him.

      Those all led to perilous places where business became confused with emotions. But she was not ready to let go of the afternoon. That would happen soon enough. Her father would have plans for the evening that would demand it. But not yet. For now, the afternoon was still hers.

      They browsed at the booths, smelling milled soaps from France and laughing when a few of the little cakes were reminiscent of cloying old ladies. They admired the bolts of fabric at the cloth merchant’s, the vendor mistaking her for Greer’s wife as he tried to convince her to buy some chintz for recovering seat cushions in her sitting room.

      She had blushed furiously over the mistake, but seen no way to rectify it. Greer had politely steered them on to the next booth, taking the remark in his stride. The booth contained various blades and he soon became engrossed with the owner in a discussion of blades and hilts. Mercedes moved on to a display of ribbons. She’d been debating the merits of the green or the blue ribbon with the vendor, a woman of middle years, when Greer stepped up behind her. ‘She’ll take them both,’ he said with a laugh, passing over the shillings. ‘They’re too pretty to choose just one.’

      ‘You have a good husband, ma’am.’ The woman smiled, pocketing Greer’s coins with a wink in his direction. ‘Knows how to spoil his wife properly. You’ll have a long marriage, I think.’

      ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Mercedes hissed once they’d moved away from the booth.

      ‘Why not?’ Greer teased. ‘Don’t you like people thinking we’re together? Am I too ugly for you?’

      She shook her head with a laugh. It was impossible to stay angry with him. ‘You know you’re not. That woman was rather disappointed you were so devoted to your “wife.”’

      ‘Aye, she was likely hoping I might be devoted to her later this evening. But alas, my heart is claimed elsewhere.’

      ‘Stop it,’ Mercedes insisted with little vigour. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ But she was laughing too.

      They’d reached the perimeter of the fairground. Their horses weren’t far off and the crowd had thinned, leaving them alone. Greer took out the blue ribbon from his coat pocket. ‘Will you permit me?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. He moved behind her, but instead of putting the ribbon in her hair, he slid it about her neck and when she looked down, a tiny silver charm in the shape of a star dangled from the ribbon. She recognised it immediately. She’d stared at it overlong at the jeweller’s booth. It had been of surprisingly good worksmanship and Greer had noticed. It had not been cheap either.

      ‘You shouldn’t have,’ Mercedes began quietly, settling her hair.

      ‘Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have commemorated this glorious day?’ Greer argued in equally soft tones. He turned her to face him. ‘I haven’t had many nice days like this for a while. As you can imagine, there aren’t picnics and fairs in the military. And for once, I don’t have anything pressing to worry about. There’s no one shooting at me, there are no worms in my food. Life has definitely improved since I’ve met you.’

      She felt guilty. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t worth it, that she’d been brought along to tame him, to turn him into something that could make her father money. But she let him have the moment. He’d been a soldier, he’d faced death and delivered it too. He worried for his family and over their finances, and finally he’d had a day where there was fair weather overhead, money in his pocket that bills couldn’t claim, and a pretty woman by his side. She could not bring herself to steal that from him. Taking that from him meant taking that from her, too, and she couldn’t do it.

      Mercedes gave up the fight and said simply, ‘Thank you, Greer.’ Her hand closed over the charm where it rested against her skin. She would treasure it always, as a reminder of the day a gentleman had treated her like a lady. She stepped closer, her head tilted up in encouragement. Perhaps he’d like to seal the day with a kiss. And he might have if he’d got the chance.

      ‘There you two are!’

      Her father approached, his spirits high. Mercedes stepped back, putting more space between herself and Greer. If her father was in a good mood, things must have gone well in town. ‘We thought you’d find us when you were