The Inconvenient Duchess

Miranda?’
    She turned, clutching the pawn she was holding to her chest.
    He had set his book aside and was watching her. ‘You seem restless. And I heard you sighing before. If you are tired, you needn’t wait up with me.’
    She searched his face for any sign of anger or displeasure and quickly returned to her seat. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. No, I am not tired. Not at all. Just fine. Really. Thank you.’ The words were spilling out of her and she closed her mouth with a snap to stop them. And glanced down into her lap to see that she had brought the pawn back with her. She cursed it, for now she would have to walk backacross the room again to return it to its board and would be forced to create still more disturbance in the silence of the room.
    ‘I see you admire the chess set. Hand-carved alabaster. A family heirloom.’
    She looked down at the pawn and wondered if this meant she should return it immediately to its army.
    ‘If you like…’ he hesitated again ‘…I could teach you to play.’
    ‘I already know.’ She wished she could call the words back. He had offered, so gently, to teach her, and she had ruined it by confessing her knowledge. Bethany would probably have smiled and feigned ignorance and her husband would have had an entertaining evening demonstrating his superiority.
    But lying about so simple a thing as chess would have added one more sin to her already onerous burden, and he would have caught her out after they’d played for a while and she progressed too rapidly. And she had promised, had she not, to be truthful? Her new husband seemed too sharp to let his own vanity interfere with his observations.
    ‘My family had a set as well, although not so grand as this.’ Hand carved, of course, but from scrap wood, with an oilcloth board and one army coloured dark with ink. ‘My father used to play with me.’ Because he thought it a much better occupation than cards once the fortune and house were gone.
    Marcus stood and pulled the matching chair closer to the fire. ‘Come. Bring the set and the table. We will have a game.’
    She played cautiously at first, vowing to herself that she might still salvage the evening by losing. And he did beather, after she made a rather stupid move that left her king exposed.
    ‘Shall we play again?’ He sounded neither pleased nor bored.
    ‘Thank you. Please.’
    ‘And if you insist on holding back your abilities, please try harder to conceal the fact. It insults me that you resort to such feeble play so that I may win. And remember your promise. I meant what I said. Do not hide your true self from me. Take pleasure in your surroundings.’
    She stared up at him and saw, not a face clouded with sadness or anger, but cool calculation. In the firelight, his eyes seemed to sparkle as he set up the board for another game.
    It was harder, now that he had some idea of her level of play, and she felt no need to resort to subterfuge to keep the game interesting. She lost several pieces before taking any of his and lost when he laid a trap and she rushed in to take his queen.
    ‘Shall we retire, madam?’
    ‘When I am so thoroughly defeated? How convenient. I have the energy for one more game if you are not too tired.’ The challenge she issued surprised her, even as it left her lips.
    His response was a sharp bark of laughter. He began setting up the pieces and said, ‘Perhaps I am tiring and you are planning to use it against me.’
    ‘Do you think it will work?’ she inquired.
    ‘Perhaps. You are an exceptionally good player when you make the effort. But you have other weapons with which to distract me if you want to win.’
    ‘And what might those be?’
    His voice was silk against her skin. ‘The firelight shining in your hair as you bend close over the board. The way youbite your lip when you concentrate. And the catch of your breath when you discover an opening does the most incredible things to the neckline of your gown. I am tempted to play poorly, just to see the flush of your skin when you take my king.’
    She swallowed. ‘I swear, sir, you are saying these things just to distract me, so that you may beat me again.’
    ‘And what will you give me if I do?’
    The air seemed thick between them. ‘I don’t intend to let you beat me a third time, so I will not concern myself with your reward.’
    He laughed again and moved one of his pawns and play began in earnest. Her concentration was not improved by the