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“No, of course not. It’s just that I, too, am headed there. I have someone I need to see and—” Her mouth snapped shut.
“I thought you said your destination was Regent Street.”
“It is. That’s my first stop. I have to purchase a birthday gift for Papa. Then I’m off to the gallery.”
“Excellent.” Tremlett seemed thoroughly pleased. “Now the possible winnings are equal. If I win, you fill my stomach with food, and if you win, I provide transport into Town. Is that agreed?”
Noelle cast an uneasy glance in Grace’s direction.
“Don’t worry about your maid,” the earl said as if reading her mind. “I’ll explain the situation. She’ll agree to accept my hospitality.” His lips twitched. “Besides, I have yet to compromise a woman on a short carriage ride and in the presence of her lady’s maid.”
“And on a long carriage ride?” Noelle inquired boldly.
A broad grin. “I thought you weren’t interrogating me.”
“Point well-taken. I’m not.” Noelle waved the cards in the air. “Shall we draw or shall I deal?”
“We’ll draw.” He looked as if he were about to burst out laughing. “Dealer has the advantage, or did you think I didn’t know that?”
“Just testing to see how adept my competition is.”
“Very adept.” He patted the empty seat beside him. “Why don’t we use this for our talon and discard pile? I realize you’ll have to scoot to the edge of your seat and lean forward a bit so you can reach, but I don’t see any other alternative. We can’t very well move Grace over, and the armrest is hardly a sufficient playing table. It’s very narrow, and I’m afraid the vibrations of the train will scatter our cards every which way.”
“I don’t mind leaning forward—provided you promise not to look at the cards I’m holding.”
“You have my word. I’ll restrain myself.”
Noelle grinned. “Don’t sound so cocky, my lord. I happen to be an expert piquet player.”
Tremlett acknowledged her admission with an amused lift of his brows. “If that’s the case, then I’m afraid I’ll be arriving in London hungry.”
“I suspect so. Now go ahead and draw.” Noelle waited until he had, then drew her own card.
Her entire face lit up when she saw she held an ace.
“That, my lady, was luck,” Tremlett reminded her. “Now comes skill.”
“Skill and luck,” Noelle answered with an impish smile. She flourished some paper and a pen. “For scorekeeping purposes. Let’s begin.”
By the time the train had chugged and squealed its way out of Basingstoke Station an hour and a half later, Noelle had accrued more than the requisite number of points, and the earl was well and truly beaten.
“So much for our contest, my lord. Unless, of course, you’d care to try again,” she baited, enjoying the astonished expression on his face. “I’d hate to think I’ve made a shambles of your pride.”
That brought a lazy smile to his lips, and he gathered the cards, arranging them in a neat pile and handing them back to her. “No, thank you. A good gambler knows when it’s time to quit. As for my pride—fear not. It’s surprisingly resilient.”
“Ah, but is your stomach?” On that quip, Noelle tucked away the cards and bent down, hoisting the basket of food onto the now-empty seat beside the earl. Groping inside, she extracted a chunk of cheese and a loaf of bread, both of which she waved invitingly in the air. “As luck would have it, I happen to be a terrible loser and an extraordinarily gracious winner. Therefore, wager or not, I’d be delighted if you would share my refreshment.”
She inclined her head, no longer teasing but speaking in earnest. “Please. The truth is, you did me a great service by sharing that game of piquet with me. You saved me from dying of boredom. That in itself warrants a reward. Not to mention that there’s more food here than Grace and I could possibly eat—even if we save some for the trip home. I insist; join me.”
Abruptly, the earlier tension she’d perceived in Lord Tremlett returned, those dazzling opal eyes assessing her for a long, thorough minute. Fidgeting beneath the intensity of his stare, Noelle found herself wondering what in God’s name he was thinking.
Just as quickly, his gaze softened, and he gifted her with another lazy smile. “How can I refuse such a charming offer?”
“You can’t. So it’s settled.” Noelle turned her attention to the task of distributing the food, grateful to have something—anything—to do that would dive
rt her attention from the charismatic Earl of Tremlett. He was entirely too distracting, too … too potent.
With a self-conscious sigh, she settled back to nibble on her cheese. “We’re almost in London,” she realized aloud, glancing out the window at the passing scenery.
