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“Dunbury…Dunbury… Ah, I recall the gentleman now.” Did her sister not know of his advanced age? Dunbury was at least twice Minerva’s age.
As if her sister had read her mind, Isadora said, “We were considering mayhap a man of his years and experience might actually be—”
Charlotte intervened. “Dunbury might prove to be a worthy opponent. He’s known to be well versed at the game of chess. Mr. Scott is easy on the eyes and is purported to be a fair player himself.”
“Hmmm…perhaps it will prove to be an interesting evening, full of possibilities.” Minerva gathered the stack and walked over to Jack, her most trusted footman, who had assisted her and her sisters on a number of occasions over the summer. The footman was dependable, loyal, and, best of all, remained silent on all of their escapades. Minerva handed the invitations to him and said, “Please see that these are delivered.” She glanced about to make sure Isadora and Charlotte were preoccupied before continuing, “Can you also arrange to have a hack at the ready for later this eve? I shall need the conveyance to and from…from a friend’s residence.”
“I shall see to it, my lady. I’m assuming I’ll be accompanying you on your visit.”
Minerva nodded, and Jack left.
Isadora was studying Minerva very closely. Minerva knew it would be best not to rush to execute her plans and attempt to live a double life…so for now she would join her sister and future sister-in-law for tea and act as if she was seriously contemplating adhering to the social norm for a daughter of the peerage, who were all doomed to marry and produce an heir and a spare.
Bah. Life as Madame Rose was what she desired—except the image of Drake and a miniature version of Drake flashed before her, and her heart fluttered. She shook her head—marrying Drake had been a childhood fantasy. She was no longer young and naïve. The man had made it clear it wasn’t marriage he was opposed to…it was marriage to her that he wouldn’t consider, and she wasn’t about to place her heart in danger of being hurt again by him.
Chapter Five
Forty-eight hours shouldhave been more than enough time for the sweet taste of Minerva’s lips to have dissipated, yet Anthony found himself licking his bottom lip and reliving the kiss that he had intended to leave her longing for more—but it was he who was left wanting. Damn the woman. When it came to Minerva, his ability to predict a person’s next move vanished, became nonexistent…and it was damn annoying. The woman’s actions were as unpredictable as her chess play.
He pulled out his pocket watch and rubbed his thumb over the slightly marred glass face—ten past one in the morning. Argh. Minerva was late.
The dusty, outdated drapes covering the windows of his normally vacant townhouse, which was rumored to house his nonexistent mistress, were sheer enough to view the road outside. Hands clenched tightly behind his back, he scanned the main thoroughfare. No sign of Minerva. Eyes closed, he listened for the sound of horse hooves, but instead his ears were subjected to the bawdy shouts of young chaps making their way to the hell house that was a few doors down.
Five more minutes.
If Minerva failed to appear in four minutes and forty-five seconds, he swore he would go in search of her and then wring her neck for making him worry.
A barely detectable draft of cold air fueled the fire, sending the flames in the sparsely decorated receiving room higher for a moment. He carefully scanned the room. No one, not even a creature, was in sight. The exposed skin at the back of his neck continued to tingle. He turned his attention back to the window. Damnation, where was Minerva?
Three minutes.
Eyed closed once more, he inhaled deeply and forced himself not to fidget. The scent of flowers gave away Minerva’s presence, yet he still flinched at the light tap on his shoulder.
He stiffened as he turned to face Minerva. His body prepared for an attack, but it wasn’t a physical altercation that he protected himself from—it was the onslaught of emotions that Minerva caused within him. Even in the dark, he was able to admire her beautiful features.
He cleared his throat and said, “That is twice now that you have managed to sneak up on me. Pray tell, how do you do it?”
Minerva pushed back the hood of her cloak. “I haven’t come to share my secrets, I’m here to play a game and save you from an extended trip abroad.” She stripped out of her gloves and cloak and shoved them at his chest.
So much for formalities or greetings or the hope of another kiss. Minerva was obviously in a rush to be done and return to whatevertonevent she had snuck away from.
He placed her discarded items on the arm of the settee. Of course, it was unreasonable of him to expect she would want to spend the rest of the evening with him. She was not here to be ravished. She was here to save him from being banished to reside on the other side of the planet.
He followed her as she strode over to the chessboard he had set up in front of the fireplace. Without hesitation she picked up one light-colored and one-dark colored pawn, placed one in each hand, turned to face him, and wound her arms behind her. “Choose.”
If he picked the lighter-colored pawn, he would go first, giving him a miniscule mathematical advantage over Minerva. Had she switched the pawns behind her back, or had she simply kept the white in her right hand? It wasn’t a difficult decision; he simply needed to pick. But he desperately wanted the advantage. He nodded and said, “Right.”
She brought an arm around and unfurled the fingers of her right hand, palm face up. She rolled the dark-colored pawn back and forth, taunting him. Damn.
Minerva wouldn’t let the advantage go to waste. Her first move would set the tone for their game, but if her trickery, switching pawns behind her back, was any indication, Anthony was in for a devilishly hard match.
She returned the pieces to the board, and Anthony pulled out her chair for her. Minerva slipped gracefully into her seat. “I’ve never seen a set quite like this one.” She picked up the king and slowly twirled it between her fingers to study the piece closely.
“I believe it originates from Germany.” He took his own seat and repositioned the pieces out of habit rather than necessity.
Minerva picked up the knight topped with a horse’s head rather than the traditional notched collar. “How lovely. When and how did you come by such a lovely set?”
“I won it at the tables.” Anthony waited for Minerva to begin.
