Regency Gamble. Bronwyn Scott

and yanked the cue stick from her hand. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Parading yourself like that? No man wants a woman who plays better than himself or even a woman who plays, for that matter, let alone one who has any skill at it. Act like a lady.’

      Mercedes had a fury of her own. ‘Act like a lady? What happened to “you’ve always understood the game”? You were happy enough to have me act any way I pleased as long as you could use it.’

      Greer felt like an interloper. This was private, family business being aired in the midst of an inn. His family would not have dared to display their conflicts so openly. Then again, his family preferred to keep those sorts of things tucked away and ignored, pretending they didn’t exist, like their financial deficiencies.

      ‘You are not playing in Bath. That’s final.’ Lockhart’s voice was terse, a tic jumping in his cheek.

      ‘I’m better than any man,’ Mercedes replied. ‘Why are you so afraid?’

      ‘It’s not seemly. You’ve been raised to be a lady in bearing, if not in name. Is this how you repay me? Is this what your fancy dresses and fine education are to come to?’

      Mercedes would not back down. ‘You did that for yourself. You wanted that for me. You never once asked what I wanted. Why show me billiards at all if you never expected me to excel?’ Mercedes’s eyes glittered with wet, as of yet unspilled, emotion. Greer’s heart went out to her in that moment. How brave she was. He’d been taught a man bore the decisions of the world stoically and without complaint. Never mind that he’d thought many of the same things Mercedes gave voice to now.

      ‘That is enough, Mercedes.’ Lockhart had gone rigid. ‘If you don’t like my decision, you are welcome to go home and await our return there.’

      Mercedes shot him a look full of blazing discontent and stormed out of the inn, the door slamming behind her. She was nothing if not magnificent in her anger. Lockhart turned to Greer, his hands held out in a gesture of reconciliation. ‘I am sorry, Barrington.’ He sighed. ‘She’s emotional in spite of her pretensions to the opposite.’ Lockhart gave a quiet chuckle. ‘She’s a woman, no? What can we expect? You have sisters. You know how it is.’

      ‘Yes, two of them,’ Greer said tightly. He didn’t want to be corralled into taking sides against Mercedes, but neither did he want to offend Lockhart. Lockhart could send him packing as easily as he could Mercedes, and the ride had really just begun with the first big test looming in Bath if he embraced it.

      ‘Two sisters—then you’re used to their high-strung tendencies.’ Lockhart made a shooing gesture with his hand. ‘Go and talk to her. I don’t like her on the streets alone, but I’m the last person she’ll want to see. Maybe she’ll listen to you.’ He gave a fatherly sigh of defeat. ‘The world is what it is; she can’t change that, no matter how much she rails against it.’

      Greer was more than glad to go after Mercedes. He didn’t doubt she was safe, armed as she was with the knife in her bodice and her temper. No man with any intelligence would fail to read the signs of an angry woman. He could do with some air himself, some time to sort through what had just happened.

      The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t help feeling that Lockhart, the consummate showman, had turned even a personal quarrel with his daughter to his advantage. If he was willing to do that with an issue of a private nature, what else would he stoop to use or who? Was there any sacred line in the sand?

      That didn’t make Mercedes the innocent party here by any stretch. It did occur to him as he walked down the street, replaying the quarrel in his mind, that she might have been using him to make her father angry, that he was a tool for flaunting her own independence in all ways. The realisation took the bubble off the wine. He didn’t want their kisses, their passion, to be part of some other game she played. He didn’t want to be another ‘Mr Reed’ to her, someone she used for other ends. It was time to confront her on that issue.

      Mercedes saw Greer approaching out of the corner of her eye. She flipped open the little watch she carried. ‘Ten minutes. Very good. I win,’ she said without turning from the window.

      ‘I’m sorry, did we wager on something?’ Greer said coolly. He had his own issues to settle with her. She’d used him in there.

      ‘I wagered with myself that my father would send you after me within ten minutes. He wouldn’t dare come himself. He did send you, didn’t he?’

      ‘I was concerned for you.’ Greer’s answer was evasive. But it confirmed her suspicions.

      ‘If you’ve come to espouse his cause, forget it. Do yourself a favour and don’t play his messenger. I’d like to think you were a better man than that.’ She was being cruel on purpose, hoping to drive Greer away. She didn’t trust herself at present. If he touched her, if he said anything kind, she might just go to pieces and she didn’t want to. She wanted to be strong. Anger kept her strong.

      ‘All right,’ Greer said calmly, unbothered. ‘I’ll just stand here and admire the window with you.’ Greer joined her in staring at the goods on display. There wasn’t much to look at: a gaudy hat complete with bright purple ribbon and green feather and a few bolts of printed muslin. Beckhampton might be on a major road, but the town was still small.

      ‘Maybe I’ll just ask the questions. What was going on there? I don’t mean the fight, I mean all of it; the blowing on the chalk, the bedroom eyes over the cue, the “let me show you how to line the shot up”? It was quite a show. Was it for my benefit or his?’

      ‘Maybe it was for neither of you,’ Mercedes replied succinctly. ‘Maybe it was for me. Did you think of that? Or perhaps you’ve put too much construction on what it meant at all.’ She tossed him a sharp, short glance.

      ‘I could say the same about you. Did you roll up your sleeves and take off your coat as part of some grand flirtation?’

      ‘Of course not,’ Greer answered hastily. ‘That’s ridiculous. It’s easier to play without my coat.’

      ‘My point exactly.’

      ‘Be fair, Mercedes, it’s not the same thing. It’s not like you were taking your lips off because they confined your play.’

      Mercedes had to work hard to stifle a laugh. But it wasn’t time to laugh yet. ‘I’m sorry you were distracted—perhaps you should work on that. It seemed to be a problem the other night as well.’ She turned to go, but Greer grabbed her arm, a frisson of warning and heat running through her body as she realised what she’d done. She could push the well-trained aristocrat in him only so far before she encountered the man in him too.

      ‘You used me back there. I won’t stand for that. Don’t play with me, Mercedes. I think we’ve done that enough on this trip. We’ve been playing games since that night in the garden and most of those games you’ve started.’

      ‘You haven’t minded,’ she shot back. ‘It was your tongue in my throat in Bosham as I recall, your hips against mine in the alley.’

      ‘You’re right, I haven’t minded.’ Greer held her gaze, letting his own drop briefly to her lips. She licked them. ‘I just want to know why. Are these kisses for business or pleasure?’

      Mercedes gave a hard laugh. ‘If I was using you for sex, Captain, you’d have known it by now.’ But she thought her words might be a lie. There was no arguing he was in her blood.

      Greer smiled dangerously. ‘Likewise. And if you’re going to stand there contemplating how best to seduce me, call me Greer.’

      ‘How do you know I’m thinking that?’

      ‘Because we have unfinished business. Seduction between us is inevitable—I think the alley affirmed that. Don’t you? It’s just a matter of who will seduce whom.’ He leaned close and whispered at her ear. ‘If you’re the betting sort, I’d put your money on me.’

      Mercedes