Page 6 of For the Love of Clover (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #4)

CHAPTER 6

H ugo did not sit with Lady Clover during the picnic that afternoon, but he did keep a glaring eye on the two men who had defamed her name. Sober now, they looked harmless, and he sorely hoped they were because he had no qualms about shoving a fist in their mouth and taking a few teeth with it. Three days remained.

Three days to watch over her.

Three nights to be tempted by her.

Three words to remember about her. Completely. Off. Limits.

Simple as that. Except that evening, she joined the party in the dining room wearing a gown, a shade darker than her bright blue eyes, which rivaled any he’d ever seen. He didn’t stop to wonder if his opinion was biased based on his attraction to her. Did other men see her as he did? Probably not. He knew too much about her now to be safe around her. Or from her. He chanted Belgrave Square repeatedly in his mind every time the woman reached for a glass of wine, and her outstretched arm exposed a fraction more of her lovely skin. The creamy perfection looked like silk. He breathed in the image of her like an intoxicating dream, imagining his nose between her breasts and her body smelling of lavender and sweet erotic passion. He could almost taste her on his tongue.

Belgravia. He breathed again.

“Mr. Darrington, do you dance?” Miss Louisa Hodge, a fairly attractive brunette sitting beside him at the long dinner table, asked a ridiculous question in hopes, no doubt, that he would ask her to dance. He shot a look down the table again at Lady Clover and then said, “Yes. My dear.” He turned back to Miss Hodge. “Do I dare ask you to save one for me?”

The woman giggled, irritatingly so. It did not sound like tinkling wind chimes or the voice of a wood sprite in his ear. It sounded like whistling through a whirligig. He hated giggling. So why didn’t Lady Clover’s little chirps bother him?

For one, because she obviously couldn’t help it. They were not primed to win favor. Nor fake. They were simply her.

This attraction was turning into an outright infatuation. Summer parties often had that effect. But generally speaking, the infatuations also had a blooming chance of becoming a dalliance.

This one should not, could not, as far as he could manage.

Some guests gathered in a small ballroom, others in the billiard parlor, and more in a room set for whist. Hugo decided to get his one obligated dance out of the way before he resigned to play billiards and drink. Surreptitiously, he looked for Clover but didn’t see her. At least she wasn’t dancing in the arms of the miscreants from the maze. Still, he would feel better if he knew where she’d gone before he spent the rest of his night drinking and gaming.

He found her in the whist room, standing on the sidelines like a wallflower and looking every bit as he’d always seen her. Timid. Shy. Quiet. Reserved. Oh, he could go on, except now he knew there was more to that pretty, innocuous smile. Again, like this morning, he caught her eye across the room. Again, he waved like a fool. And again, she ignored him.

He weaved his way around the audience of whist players seated almost back-to-back. A few tables were nearly impossible to skirt.

“Lady Clover, I see you’re ignoring me again.”

The only clue she heard him was the jolting, wide-eyed surprise she served. “Was I? Do you mean at dinner? We were sitting too far apart for a proper conversation.”

“I waved at you just now from across the room.” He pointed a look toward the open door.

“Oh, yes. I saw that. Forgive me, I was completely enthralled in the game between…” She faltered, fanning a hand toward the nearest table. “These lovely ladies and gentlemen.” She finished with a pained expression, drawing her bottom lip downward in a quirky half frown.

“You don’t even know their names,” he whispered, edging closer to her.

“Does it make them less interesting? Did you know the name of your dance partner?”

“Yes. I did,” he said, more confused than ever. Clover was a contradiction. “You saw me dance. Knew it was me. But refused to acknowledge me across a room? I think we should avoid one another the rest of our time.” He was teasing her but still wondered how he had missed her in the ballroom.

“Don’t say that. You’re practically the only one I know in the whole bunch except for our hostess, who is busy being a hostess.”

“If you’re so in need of a friend, I’m happy to play the part. But only if you’ll stop ignoring me.”

She turned to him. “You sound like a woman.”

He chuckled and wished he had a glass of wine to toast her. “If it’s good enough for a woman’s moody disposition, then it’s good enough for a man’s.”

She folded her arms. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

“No. I wouldn’t be a good boxer if I did.”

“Then I’ll tell you another secret. But not here.” She nodded toward the door.

Hugo was not sure he could take another secret.

Clover was happy for the reprieve Darrington offered. She had been standing in the whist room for nearly thirty minutes without speaking or being spoken to. No one had asked her to play or partner with them at their table, and had they done so, she would have happily declined. When the time was appropriate, she planned to retire. Thankfully, the men who had spoken poorly of her that morning did not appear too anxious for her company. Perhaps Mr. Darrington had been correct, and the buffoons had forgotten as they sobered. She truly hoped so. It had made for an interesting conversation with Mr. Darrington, but she was not keen on the comments or suggestions, nor would her brother be if he found out.

Until Mr. Darrington arrived at her side, she had been looking for an appropriate moment to retire early. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

He gave her a skeptical look as they left the room.

“Do you think we could play billiards?”

“No. After today, I don’t think it wise for you to engage in risky behavior.”

“Lord, I had no idea you were puppeteering Kingsley. You do that well, you know,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially as they quit the parlor. Warmth radiated from him, engaging all her worldly senses. Intoxicating feelings surged through her and made her feel lightheaded on the scent of bay rum.

“Please do not refer to me as a nursemaid.”

“I wouldn’t dare. You look nothing like my childhood nurses.” She stopped, and he halted a few steps ahead, pivoting on his heel to face her. “Rugged jaw with a hint of shadow. Lashes to envy. And definitely a strong mouth. No. You do not look like any nursemaid I’ve ever met.”

His gaze caressed her face like a tangible thing, and she wondered if he was counting her flaws. “Lashes to envy?”

“Absolutely.” She nodded for emphasis. “I know I envy them. I cannot be the only one.”

“Who are you, Lady Clover?”

“Right now? I am a woman bored silly. And maybe a silly woman.” She smirked. “You know, Kingsley allows me to play billiards. I’m not very good. He lets me win most of the time. So you see, the billiard room would not make me swoon. I promise.”

He bowed to a couple strolling by. “I thought you had a secret to tell. The billiard room is not a good place for clandestine affairs.”

“Good thing we’re not having an affair, Mr. Darrington.” She pulled herself together, took a deep breath, and blinked away the stimulating yet inappropriate conversation. “Do you think there’s something else to do besides dance, play cards, and watch billiards?”

He looked behind and to the side, examining the space around him like a map maker. “There must be a draught board here somewhere.”

“Do you think they have a chess set behind one of these doors?”

He echoed her hopeful look. “No question. Let’s find it.”

This game was almost more exciting than chess promised to be. She fought to keep her feet from hurrying. Chess partners were few, and Clover often played against herself if the gardener wasn’t available. Her father may have taught her to play, but it was Mr. Troy who took the time to explain the strategy for different openings. He had told her that it wasn’t your partner you played so much as yourself. The diversion had been a lifeline.

Mr. Darrington was good to formally greet or bow to guests as Clover smiled like a woman taking a leisurely, mindless stroll. He tried two rooms before they found one with a table and a chess set. To cover, Mr. Darrington asked several people if they were interested in a game, but it was clear this was not that kind of party.

“White or black?”

“I’ll take the advantage if you’re offering.”

“Either can be an advantage, but I assume that means you’ll take the first move.”

“Of course. Should I wait for you, it may take all night.”

“Oh, Lady Clover, I don’t need any more ideas.” The board was set, but Mr. Darrington moved each piece until he was satisfied they were evenly spaced.

Clover opened, taking a center square, while Mr. Darrington immediately developed a knight. He was a formidable player, and by their third game, his brow was drawn in morbid concentration, and she leaned unladylike with her elbow on the table, her chin resting on her fist. “You devil. You’ve stolen my queen again.” Her heart pounded, not because of the handsome man seated across from her, but because her aching need to win this dratted game pierced her soul every time he cornered her queen. She ground her teeth, examining the pieces.

“You fault me because you left your queen exposed?”

“Mr. Darrington, please. I’m concentrating.” She felt her breath coming harder, and panic seized her because, in four moves, he would have her. She had one rook, two bishops, and no knights. Bishops were good to keep early on, but she had never developed a keen strategy for winning with them. If she could just corner his king, she might do it. But her only hope was an unfair, womanly distraction so he would overlook her game strategy.

She wet her lips and leaned into the table on both arms, stretching forward to maximize her body’s potential. She dared a glance. His mouth curled up on one side, and he raised a brow.

“Do you have a move?” he asked.

“I’m working it through if you’d be patient.” She took a heaving breath and saw his eyes fall to her cleavage. Move one worked. Oh, it wasn’t chess; it was something riskier. Like lust. “Oh, my secret, I forgot.”

“You’re stalling.”

“No, I’m thinking.” She looked through her lashes at him. He still held that crooked grin. “As to my secret, I couldn’t see you because I’m afraid I need spectacles.” She glanced again, but he hadn’t changed except to cross his arms like he didn’t believe her. Move two did not work. She regarded the board again, tilting her head coyly. “Hugo?” she used his name, hoping to startle him. “About that kiss in the garden. The one you said didn’t affect you?” She leveled him with a triumphant stare. “You were lying.”

He unfolded his arms and leaned across the table, forcing her to look up at him. “Clover, so were you.”

She lost the confident, coy tilt of her head. She lost her breath. And she lost the game.