Regency Gamble. Bronwyn Scott

Now it was time to laugh.

       Chapter Eleven

      It was a subdued group that pulled into Bath. He had no one to blame for that but himself, Lockhart mused. He shot a look at Barrington, who rode beside him. It was quite telling that the Captain had chosen to ride instead of his usual routine of sitting with Mercedes inside the carriage.

      Clearly, words had been said between them when Barrington had gone after her. From the tension at dinner last night, Lockhart didn’t think the words had solely been about the billiards game. There’d been a certain spark between Mercedes and the Captain from the start. Travel and close proximity had encouraged it just as he’d hoped. For that matter, Mercedes had encouraged it to their benefit. The Captain’s ‘affections’ for Mercedes, whatever their basis, had indeed kept him loyal. If this was a mere flirtation for her, a means to an end, fine. But if she actually developed true feelings for Barrington, there would be trouble ahead should either of them choose to rebel.

      Mercedes’s rebellion was of immediate concern. She’d been upset by his decision to not let her play in Bath. An upset Mercedes would need to be appeased before she did something reckless which could be disastrous for them all. Bath should go a great way in appeasing her once they got settled. He had a lovely house rented and he’d turn over the social calendar to her. She’d cultivate relationships for him that would be good for the tournament and she’d feel useful. She’d have gowns to wear and the handsome Captain at her side to act as an escort to balls and other entertainments. She’d forget she was angry.

      As for Barrington, the Captain would be in his element, among people like him. And he was looking forward to making the most of Barrington’s entrée. Bath would be most lucrative for him riding in on the Captain’s coat-tails. He and the Captain would make a splendid duo in the clubs. He could feel the cue in his hand already. Between the two of them, they’d be unbeatable. Everything was working out splendidly and Mercedes would come around. He’d see to it with plenty of money and entertainments to keep her busy, and a few well-placed compliments.

      Lockhart gave the coachman directions to the terraced house. This would not be an overnight stop. He planned for them to spend two, maybe three weeks in Bath, where the season was already under way.

      The coach stopped in front of the Bath-stone town house with its neat wrought iron railings and large windows. Lockhart was pleased to note even the Captain was impressed with the lodgings and location—right on the Crescent and within walking distance of all the important places: subscription rooms, the assembly hall, the theatre and the almighty Pump Room, where the heart of Bath beat on a daily basis.

      He dismounted and helped Mercedes down himself. She looked up at the house, a small smile on her face. Lockhart would take it as a good sign. ‘Can you get us settled? I shall see you at dinner.’ He drew her aside to let Barrington and the trunks head into the house.

      ‘You’ve done splendidly with him.’ Lockhart nodded to indicate the Captain as he passed. ‘He’s come a long way. His play has been refined. He has a sense of strategy now. Well done, Daughter.’ He beamed at her. ‘You should get some new dresses made up while we’re here.’

      ‘I may. I have plenty.’ Mercedes didn’t thaw any further.

      ‘Well, it’s up to you. A pretty dress might go a long way with the Captain. He wants to impress you. Make sure you keep him dangling. That can be a useful tool, a leash to keep him on.’

      When Mercedes said nothing, he swung back up on his horse, calling down a promise, ‘I’ll see about tickets to the theatre while I’m about it.’ ‘It’, of course, was arranging entrance to the subscription rooms where men would play billiards all day long, serious gentlemen like himself.

      ‘How many should I expect for dinner tonight?’ Mercedes gave him a half-smile. She knew very well he was plotting already. Good for her.

      ‘None tonight, but the invitations will start rolling in by tomorrow.’ Lockhart winked at the Captain as he came down the steps. ‘Tonight will be the last night you’re saddled with only my company.’ Hopefully the Captain would take the hint. If there were any loose ends between him and Mercedes, Barrington had better tie them up quickly. In Bath the Captain might face competition for Mercedes. Not nearly so highbrow as London, Bath would be more tolerant of Mercedes’s antecedents and he needed Mercedes and the Captain together for now. If Mercedes froze him out, he’d have to manage her through the Captain.

      Her father would not manage her as if she were a little girl. He was not forgiven. He could dazzle and compliment and offer new dresses and theatre tickets all he liked, but he was not forgiven, not this time.

      Mercedes stepped into the terraced house, her mind already whirling. Her father wasn’t the only one with plans to set in motion. She’d had all morning alone in the carriage to adjust her strategy. Plan A had failed. Her father was not going to allow her to go public with her talent. The quarrel the previous day had shown her that very plainly and there was no longer any reason to hold out false hope things would change in that regard. But there was always Plan B.

      She smiled to herself, surveying the luxuriously appointed drawing room, a place ladies would want to come and be entertained. This house was going to be perfect. With its location at the heart of Bath, it was well positioned to become a social centre to rival the Pump Room. She would see to it.

      ‘Does it meet with your approval?’ Greer had come up behind her, directing the grooms to take the trunks upstairs.

      She turned to face him, hardly able to prevent her features from radiating her excitement. ‘Absolutely.’ To keep him from suspecting too much, she crossed the room with a brisk stride and pulled open the double doors, leading to the dining room. ‘Very elegant,’ she commented, running her hand down the length of the polished table. ‘We can seat fourteen for dinner. That will do nicely.’

      ‘Do you really plan on doing a lot of entertaining?’ Greer queried dubiously. ‘Do you know anyone in town?’

      She tossed him a coy glance. ‘Not yet. But we will, you’ll see. We’ll have tickets to the theatre by tonight and invitations will fill the salver in the entryway by tomorrow. That was no idle boast my father made. He knows how to play this game.’ Mercedes smiled smugly. She knew how to play the game too and she could play it every bit as well her father could.

      ‘You didn’t go with him?’ Mercedes said as they made their way upstairs to see the private chambers. The downstairs had been perfect. Along with the drawing and dining room, there was a small office, a lady’s parlour and, best of all, a room with a billiards table. She suspected the room was normally used as an informal dining parlour or second sitting room. But the table was Thurston’s and fit the space admirably, and she would put that table to good use.

      ‘I could tell he wanted to be alone,’ Greer offered charitably. ‘This is his town, isn’t it? He grew up here?’

      Mercedes nodded. That was something Greer would only have known from listening to bits and pieces of conversations, further testimony to the fact that he was a good listener, a keen observer. One had to be careful around people like that. ‘He and Kendall Carlisle were boot boys in the subscription rooms until a gentleman noticed their interest and took them under his wing. He showed them the game and the rest, as they say, is history.’

      They came to a large room done in dark, masculine greens, clearly designated for the master of the house. ‘You can put my father’s things in here,’ Mercedes directed the grooms. She would have to get staff hired this afternoon. She mentally added the task to her list.

      Down the hall were two other rooms across the hall from each other, one in pale blues and the other in a deep gold. She stepped inside the latter and surveyed it, taking in the large, heavy four-poster bed and the clothes press. The room was simply done, but not shabby.

      ‘Will it do for you, do you think?’ It would be