The Last Gamble Page 3

She leaned against the door and spoke loud and clear. ‘Meet me in the town square tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. There’s a small corner establishment named Ellen’s Tearoom. I’ll speak to you when I’m safely amidst others.’

  Tea? He would drink poison if it returned Nathaniel to him. Aware Miss Smith watched from the front window, he nodded and left her property straight after. He’d unsettled her enough for one day, so tomorrow would have to suffice. Locked up tight behind her cottage door, he’d failed to gain more than an arranged meeting in town, but wasn’t willing to take the chance he’d spur the young lady into fleeing or sending a message to his half-brother. He had no way to understand her involvement until he pressed her for answers in the morning.

  And that was why, after he’d checked on Snake Eyes and finished a simple meal, he returned to watch the cottage through the evening hours. Miss Smith was the only lifeline he had to Nathaniel at the moment. He had little idea what his half-brother wanted, Dursley’s denial of the abduction a repetitive argument that led to no end. And with no ransom note, extortion attempt or other motivation for Nate’s disappearance, he could only pursue the governess and hope, mayhap pray, a habit he’d never practised, that she knew something to assist his search.

  Chapter Three

  Having a nocturnal lifestyle proved its advantages. The ability to prowl about as if invisible was a skill learned as a child on the streets of Charing Cross where Luke would steal fruit and other bits of food without detection. Later, as a grown man, he’d honed the practice to perfection whenever a fast departure proved necessary, out a window or down a trellis to escape an angered husband, often leaving behind a satisfied lady who welcomed his affection but not his reputation.

  He’d watched the cottage until midnight, although a light hadn’t shown in the window since ten in the evening, and then he’d muttered a Good night, Miss Smith and returned to the inn. She was a creature of the daylight and his opposite, no doubt, though he would take no chances.

  Now, as he waited from afar, the governess approached the teashop without the company of her dog, her ungloved hands poised against the simple lines of her day gown. He couldn’t help but notice the soft sashay of her hips, though her face expressed a businesslike demeanour and he wondered again if she worked in collusion with Dursley or was an innocent victim, the same as he.

  ‘Miss Smith, thank you for agreeing to this meeting.’ He pushed from the corner of the teashop and forced a smile, impatience prodding he get their conversation underway.

  ‘How do you know my name?’ She reared back, another layer of defence added to the tightly secured countenance she’d brought to the teashop instead of her pug.

  ‘I’m Mr Reese. Luke, if you’d like. Now that we know each other’s name there’s no room for enmity. I assure you I mean no harm. Let’s find a table and order refreshment while I explain.’ He didn’t leave her time to object and opened the shop door to motion her inside where he obtained a table and requested a pot of tea. How he would have preferred a brandy despite it was barely ten in the morning. When she’d brushed past him at the entrance he’d thought he detected the scent of apricots, but dismissed this as foolishness, most especially when the vibrant interior of the cheerful shop smelled of steeped black tea leaves.

  ‘Very well then. How may I help you, Mr Reese?’ She placed her reticule on the damask tablecloth and he noticed her long, delicate fingers trembled for a reason he could not imagine.

  ‘I’m looking for someone and hope you’ll assist in my search.’

  She waited, not a question on her lips, though he noticed she nibbled the lower one in hesitation or unfounded trepidation.

  ‘My son was taken from me and I need to locate his whereabouts.’ There was no easy way to phrase it and the automatic assumption that he’d done something wrong or perpetuated an offence which had led to the removal of his son was something he was fully prepared to defend. ‘His name is Nathaniel and I believe you may know him.’

  ‘Nate?’ Miss Smith’s eyes lit with instant recognition and his heart nearly leapt from his chest. ‘But that can’t be true.’ She shook away her immediate response. ‘Nathaniel’s father is deceased. His uncle cares for him now.’

  Bloody hell, he would kill his half-brother for that lie.

  ‘That’s not the truth. I am his father.’ He hastily accepted the teapot and service from the shop’s girl, anxious for her to rid the table so he could continue. ‘And I’m desperate to find him. Do you know where he is?’

  ‘I see it now.’ She smiled, seemingly more at ease. ‘The dark hair and light eyes, although yours are almost silver, aren’t they?’ She leaned forward slowly, her eyes matched with his. ‘Nate’s possessed a bluer hue.’

  Engrossed in her description, she appeared unaware how he hung on each word, though his heart overflowed with relief. She knew Nate and possibly his current whereabouts.

  ‘With regret, I haven’t seen Nathaniel in almost a year or else I might be of better assistance.’ She looked down at her cup and took a polite sip of tea.

  Wrong – she didn’t know where Nate was at the moment. His chest grew tight as disappointment and anger were fast to smother hope. Yet all wasn’t lost. ‘Can you tell me everything you know of your interaction and the situation that brought you together?’ He tasted the pungent brew in his cup and again wished for brandy, although Miss Smith seemed pleased enough and daintily wiped her mouth after another sip.

  ‘You must be out of your mind with worry.’ Her features softened and her eyes found his, searching over his face and back again with sincere sympathy.

  She too had lovely blue eyes, almost the same shade as Nate, and long, graceful lashes. Now he viewed her closely, the governess proved quite pretty, some might even suggest fetching, in a fresh, uncontrived manner. He saw compassion in her eyes, and a new understanding of his predicament. Truly the qualities spoke of a genuine soul. ‘Yes. Perhaps with this new knowledge, you’ll excuse my poor manners at your doorstep yesterday.’

  ‘Of course. I had no idea and with worries of my own…’ Her voice trailed off, a signal she did not wish to elaborate. ‘I’m glad to tell you everything I know if it helps you locate your son. Your wife, how is she? She must be inconsolable. By heavens, I would be. The circumstances are terrible.’

  Her honest empathy soothed the unrelenting ache that lived inside him always, the desperate pain of hopelessness that increased each day he was unable to care for Nate, tuck him in at bedtime, hear his laughter or ensure he was safe. His brother had stolen parental privilege and paternal responsibility for no reason Luke could fathom. ‘Nate’s mother died three years ago. I doubt he has any clear memories of her although they share the same smile. At least she’s not here to see how I’ve failed in taking care of our son.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She fiddled with her teacup at his bold confession. ‘It’s easy to see you are father and son. The man who placed Nate in my care for three weeks also possessed similar colouring.’

  ‘My half-brother, Viscount Dursley.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And before you suggest I seek legal recourse, you should know I was born on the wrong side of the blanket that deems my word worthless when spoken in challenge of a peer. I’m also a proprietor of The Underworld gaming hell.’

  She didn’t answer immediately despite her eyes flared with his last sentence. ‘Yes, Dursley, that’s how the viscount introduced himself, and for Nate he neglected use of the surname Reese.’

  ‘His lie concerning Nate’s parentage is just one in a long string of mistruths. He most likely changed my son’s name to fit his purpose.’

  ‘Sometimes people have no other choice.’ She seemed reluctant to continue for a beat and her delicate brows trestled with worry. ‘The viscount hired me as governess and paid me beforehand. When the three-week period concluded, he collected your son with no further word.’ A look of anguish flittered across her face as if disappointed with her involvement. ‘I never thought to ask more questions. Nate lo
oked neither neglected nor unhappy. I didn’t believe it my place to pry and all appeared in order.’

  ‘As would be expected.’ He swallowed the bitter tea in his cup to wash away the taste of failure. There had to be more to the story. This couldn’t be all he’d gain from the only clue he possessed. He rejected that reality. ‘I’ve gathered bits of information here and there to indicate my half-brother is shuttling Nate to different locations in an attempt to keep his presence untraceable. I’ve had his townhouse watched for periods of time, his country estate, as well as any other place I could imagine he’d bring my son, but the search has yielded nothing.’

  ‘I see.’ She toyed with the handle of her teacup as if hesitant to continue. ‘You would be proud, if I may be so bold. Nathaniel is a fine young lad, bright as a new star and handsome to boot.’ She smiled and it eased the tightness in his chest another degree.

  ‘Thank you for that.’ The governess was kind as well as beautiful. Despite he lived daily with serious considerations on his mind, his body worked on another more elemental level, and he couldn’t help but notice the brilliance of Miss Smith’s smile and lovely appeal. ‘I find strength in the knowledge that Nathaniel is safe despite his whereabouts remain unknown. I don’t believe my half-brother will harm my son, but one can never be sure. People show different faces to the world depending on their necessity. Dursley perpetuates a veneer of honesty but he is no more than a manipulative cur.’ Her teacup rattled on the saucer as she replaced it. Perhaps he’d spoken too vehemently. ‘My apologies.’ He regretted upsetting her.

  ‘Think nothing of it.’

  Georgina watched Mr Reese and admired his courageous determination. His half-brother had stolen his only child, his wife had died… how much was one individual expected to endure? She tried to imagine the pain he held in check and failed. If she ever fell in love she wanted it to be for ever, a long, happy life with several children as delightful as Nate.

  What would Mr Reese think if he discovered the lie she lived each day? Governess? Smith? Neither were true. Perhaps he would never need to know, their association short-lived. She hoped so because somehow the unforgivable notion of disappointing Mr Reese, Luke, threatened to stay with her indefinitely. She could not be the cause of further betrayal, another thorn in his heart. His final words struck a personal chord.

  With her guilt overflowing, she vowed to pen a letter to her parents that evening, assure them of her safety and wellbeing and bring it to post tomorrow first thing. It was the least she could do to ease their concern. How selfishly she’d behaved. Perhaps they worried in the same tormenting manner Mr Reese agonized over Nate’s whereabouts and security.

  Now to assuage Mr Reese’s concern. When she looked into his lovely grey eyes, her heart raced with anxious ambition to soothe his suffering. ‘Nathaniel was very happy in my care. He took to Biscuit right away and the two would play for hours in the garden when he finished his letters and numbers.’

  Mr Reese’s brows rose as if surprised.

  ‘Does he not ordinarily enjoy dogs?’

  ‘No, not that. Your pug.’ He laughed a low chuckle that skittered through her. ‘The name suits.’ Then he flashed a grin and she couldn’t help notice the dimple in his right cheek. Nate had a smaller mark, a precursor of the lethal weapon his appeal would wield one day. In kind, it seemed Mr Reese had no idea of the power in that charming dimple. His smile proved an armament of great impact. Were he to turn that flirtatious grin on any available female, all defences would crumble in less than an instant. Hers certainly did.

  She stared at his face a moment longer, her intent focus on his mouth, her throat gone dry. This was no child in front of her, this was a man. A very handsome man with silver-grey eyes, obsidian hair, and a fading smile which reminded by way of dimple he had one purpose in life: to find his son. Botheration, she needed to get her imagination under control before she fantasized all sorts of inappropriate suggestions that had nothing to do with the singular reason Mr Reese had sought her our in the first place.

  ‘Viscount Dursley paid me in cash and left no address. Unfortunately, that’s all I know.’ Wishing she could supply more and ease his worry, she touched her hand to his sleeve, surprised at the strength beneath the cloth, all strong, hard muscle, and forced herself to draw back, though an equalled desire insisted she pull forward instead. ‘I’m happy to have reassured you although I feel at a loss in furthering your pursuit of Nathaniel. Is there another way I can help?’ There must be something she could do. She’d truly enjoyed the short time she’d cared for Nate. How wretched the circumstance now she’d learned the truth. She’d only just met Mr Reese but his predicament warranted she assist in his search in any manner possible.

  He remained quiet a beat too long. Did he consider her offer with great intent or become lost in a remembrance of his precious son? Where had his mind darted? Another beat and his eyes caught hers with a keen interest she found mesmerizing, as if he worked to decipher her, unlock her resistance and steal the contents of her thoughts. When at last he spoke, his words shocked her to the core.

  ‘Yes, thank you, I accept your gracious offer. We’ll leave for London first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘London.’ She gasped, the two syllables strangling her throat. ‘I can’t go to London.’ Outrage, surprise, panic; all three rose in protestation to jade her objection in high pitch as she jumped from her chair, nearly upsetting the tea service in the process.

  ‘Wait, please, Miss Smith.’ His voice sounded a distant call amidst the ambient conversations at the other tables.

  He rose as well but it was too late. Her heart hammered faster than her heels tapped retreat on the wooden floor, a hollow, jarring sound that echoed in her pulse and labelled her a coward. She couldn’t go to London. She’d run from London. Fled the horrid circumstances created by her foolish choices and naïve stupidity. No, London was out of the question and she was out the door.

  She knew he would follow her, his cause more precious than hers, more desperate too. Mr Reese sought to find his child and, as it should be, would not take her refusal without a fight. Still, a shade of sadness accompanied the acknowledgement because she would not return to London. She couldn’t. Not ever.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Wait.’ Luke managed to catch Miss Smith with little effort, his stride eating up the pavement and falling into pace beside her before he lost breath. ‘Please allow me to explain.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ She didn’t look at him. Gone was the congenial kindness and soft-spoken sincerity witnessed at the teahouse. Miss Smith appeared as scared as a hunted rabbit, dashing glances to the roadway and beyond to the horizon, her blue eyes alight with a wild gleam. From what did she run? Her hurried escape provided all the evidence needed to realize she feared something, some scandal or danger. Frightened to a degree that she would change her name and avoid a city of thousands.

  He continued his pursuit though the puzzling reaction wouldn’t release his curiosity. He hardly knew the woman, yet some part of him worried for her predicament. She’d cared for Nate and shown kindness to his son. From what she’d mentioned, Nate enjoyed the time spent in her charge. At the least he owed her a little latitude in her unexpected reaction.

  She scurried up the slates in front of her cottage, her hand at work inside her reticule for the key. He couldn’t allow her to enter without hearing him out. He needed to change her mind. He had to. It was his only hope. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard, forcing it away. ‘Miss Smith, if you’ll listen a moment about London.’

  Two paces from the front door she whirled in his direction, an immediate objection on her lips, but the motion, combined with her harried steps, caused the key to fall straight into the flowerbed beside the path. He leapt to recover it first, only meaning to hold it hostage long enough to gain her attention, but the lady bent twice as quickly and snatched the key along with a wayward flower stem. She inserted the key into the lock before he could stop her
, because, aside from words, what other means did he have? He wouldn’t lay a hand on her person and dare frightening her further.

  ‘Miss Smith.’ He watched in dejected frustration as the door opened. ‘Georgina, please!’

  ‘No. I said no.’ She fairly shouted her refusal and pushed the door open, but in a blur of beige Biscuit shot across the threshold, the pug’s pernicious snarls startling Miss Smith as much as he. Who would expect such vigilant protection from the pint-sized pup?

  ‘Oh.’ She gasped. With less than a heartbeat’s length to react, she missed the opportunity to capture her pet and Biscuit bulleted forward at her valiant defence. Rocketing past her skirts, the dog emitted a ferocious growl and latched onto Reese’s trousers.

  The scene might have appeared comical if so much weren’t at stake. Miss Smith struggled to free Biscuit from his offensive attack, her skirts an encumbrance as she crouched to reclaim the dog, but too soon she lost footing, her boot heel caught on the uneven edge of a broken slate. Already in an awkward position, she pitched towards the daisies, losing hold of the dog in the process. Luke shot out a hand to steady her, latching on to her arm to prevent the fall, but it proved no use. Caught in the vertiginous melee, Miss Smith teetered wildly, grasping his extended arm with her ungloved hands to hold tight.

  With lightning reactions, Luke shook off Biscuit and twisted his body to absorb the impact as they fell to the ground into the flowerbed like two newly planted bulbs, him on his back and Miss Smith, Georgina, warm, wonderful Georgina, sprawled atop his chest.

  Her exclamation of surprise mingled with his groan upon impact. Biscuit merely continued his incessant barking.

  Clubs, spades, diamonds and hearts.

  Georgina’s luscious curves blanketed his increasing hardness in a landing so pleasurable he might have found heaven. Her enticing breasts, lush and wonderful, pressed against his chest in curvy warmth and delicious invitation. The sensual conclusion, that she eschewed a corset, lit a hot flame of lust he could not deny. He knew firsthand every intimate item in a woman’s wardrobe and never had heat permeated through his shirt like in this moment, the lovely Miss Smith intimately atop him. Perhaps the proper governess was not so proper after all.