Come along, Miss Bergerine. Oh, and Millstone, I still intend to leave within the hour.”
Juliette had never been in the study of Lord Bromwell’s town house. Unlike the other rooms, however, it was not a pleasant chamber. It was too dark and too much the English gentleman’s, and it smelled strongly of tobacco.
A young man who’d been sitting in a heavy leather armchair got to his feet as she entered with Lord Bromwell. If this was Mr. Allan Gerrard, he was a nice-looking fellow, fair and with a pleasant smile.
“Mr. Gerrard, I presume?” Lord Bromwell said.
“Indeed, yes, I am,” he answered. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion. Sir Douglas agreed to meet me here—or so I thought.”
Mr. Gerrard slid a shy glance at Juliette. “He offered to introduce me to his cousin yesterday. I suppose I shouldn’t have stayed when your butler said he wasn’t here, but I, um…” He shrugged his shoulders and gave them both a sheepish grin. “I was rather anxious to meet you, Miss Bergerine—and you, too, my lord.”
“Might I ask why?” Lord Bromwell inquired, not quite as friendly as before.
Mr. Gerrard got a stubborn glint in his eyes of the sort Juliette had seen when a woman was told a certain fabric or shade wasn’t right for her coloring, or the cut of a dress was less than flattering. “Surely it’s no surprise I’d want to meet the celebrated author of The Spider’s Web, or the beautiful cousin of Sir Douglas Drury. My sister’s dressmaker spoke very highly of you, Miss Bergerine.”
No doubt Madame de Malanche spoke highly of anybody who gave her a good deal of business. Nevertheless, Juliette smiled. “I’m flattered.”
Apparently encouraged, Mr. Gerrard eagerly explained. “Sir Douglas and I decided to have a contest and we made a wager on the outcome. I proposed an introduction to you if I won.”
“You’re here because of a wager?” Lord Bromwell demanded incredulously.
Mr. Gerrard flushed and looked from one to the other. “Yes, well, it makes fencing more interesting if there’s a wager.”
“Drury made such a wager?” Lord Bromwell repeated, as if trying to convince himself that wasn’t utterly impossible.
From what Juliette had heard of men of that class, they all gambled. Often. “He does not make wagers?” she asked.
“Not recently, or so I thought. Now if that’s all, sir, I think you may leave,” Lord Bromwell said with a curtness that was completely, and shockingly, unlike his usual manner.
Embarrassed for both herself and the blushing Mr. Gerrard, Juliette wasn’t sure what to do or where to look.
Whatever he was feeling, however, Mr. Gerrard made a polite bow to her. “I’m delighted to have met you, Miss Bergerine. I hope you won’t hold the circumstances of our introduction against me, and that we shall meet again.”
Then he took her hand and lightly kissed the back of it.
No one had ever kissed her hand before. She discovered she didn’t like it and quickly drew it back.
“Good day, Miss Bergerine. I’m sorry to have intruded, Lord Bromwell. I enjoyed your book very much, especially the part about scorpions. It’s not pleasant to be stung, is it?”
With that, he touched his hand to his forehead in a jaunty little salute and marched from the room.
When he was gone, Lord Bromwell’s long, slender hands balled into fists. “I’m sorry, Miss Bergerine. Drury shouldn’t have used an introduction to you as the prize in a wager. It was in extremely poor taste, and he, of all men, should know better.”
Her host started to the door before she could ask him what he meant. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d best be on my way. Good day to you, Miss Bergerine. Although I hope the villains who attacked you and Drury will soon be caught, I look forward to seeing you when I return.”
Then he was gone, leaving her to wonder why he’d been so upset about a bet. Didn’t noblemen bet all the time? She’d heard several examples of wagers being written in the betting book at White’s that seemed more outrageous than whether or not a young man could be introduced to a woman.
Why, then, was Lord Bromwell so upset? Or was this just another example of the difference between her world and theirs?
Chapter Eight
Nearly had a row with Buggy. Damned uncomfortable. Not as strange as what happened after, though.
—from the journal of Sir Douglas Drury
Shifting from foot to foot as if he had an itch, Mr. Edgar stood in the doorway of the inner sanctum, the small chamber where Drury kept his law books and briefs from solicitors.
“Is something the matter?” Drury asked, one brow raised in query.
“Lord Bromwell’s here to see you, sir. He’s, um… he wouldn’t let me take his hat.”
“No doubt he’s in a hurry to get as far from London as possible on the first day of travel,” Drury replied as he got up from his desk and entered the main room.
Buggy was standing by the hearth, dressed in a greatcoat, hat and boots. And he was glowering, an expression rarely seen on his face.
“What the deuce were you thinking? Or did you even think at all?” he demanded, his whole body quivering with righteous indignation.
Drury couldn’t be more stunned if Buggy had slapped him.
“How you could even think to do such a thing after you nearly ruined Brix and Fanny’s happiness over a bet?” he charged. “How could you involve Miss Bergerine in a wager? Haven’t you already caused her enough trouble?”
Drury suddenly understood what Buggy was upset about, and wanted to smack himself on the forehead. “Gerrard. I forgot about Gerrard.”
“I daresay you did, but he didn’t forget your bet. He arrived this morning determined to have his introduction.”
Another emotion swamped Drury, but he kept it in check as he went to pour himself a brandy. “I assume he got it?”
“He did!”
“And was he quite charmed by Miss Bergerine? She can be charming if she exerts herself.”
“How dare you?” Buggy cried indignantly. “How can you insult her after what you’ve done? It’s not her fault he came to meet her.” Buggy jabbed a finger at him. “It’s yours! And if she were charming, would you have preferred your supposed cousin be rude? Maybe you would. You’re rude when it suits you.”
Friend or not, Drury didn’t appreciate being berated. He’d endured too much of that in his childhood. “I forgot about the damned wager.”
“That’s no excuse! I thought you’d seen the damage such seemingly silly things can do after you exposed Brix’s bet about never marrying Fanny.
