Playing To Win

Playing To Win
Laurel Ames

Sera Had Always Loved a Challenge, But Tony Was Proving to be Difficult Even For Her Considerable Skills!Despite her bookish exterior, Sera Barclay was an imp with outrageous charm and depths undreamed of by London's stuffy ton. A woman who would risk anything for the sake of the husband who gave her his heart, and denied her everything else… .A man of particular honor and pride, Tony Cainbrooke's inherited debt kept him estranged from his wife. But his distance was getting harder and harder to maintain… for Sera's antics to bring them together grew more outrageous by the day!

Playing to Win

Laurel Ames

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Acknowledgments

I owe many thanks to Mr. Edward W. Eckman and Dr. John P. Sokol for valuable research material and expert advice.

Contents

Chapter One (#u3a0bad26-f8ea-52e0-a2d2-f0381ae560b5)

Chapter Two (#u9d707e62-eeed-5bc1-97dd-e4cb42b8947a)

Chapter Three (#ubaaca3da-9ea7-5ed1-ade6-14b951829442)

Chapter Four (#u009aa8ea-4fbf-5b02-b7e7-42ec74f0b5f0)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

London—September 1815

A low fog crept across the clearing, shrouding both men and horses from the knees down. The jingle of harness, and a snort, seemed overloud in the dark stillness. Tony Cairnbrooke’s seconds conferred with Lord Vonne’s men over the pistols. The horses steamed gently. It was damp and cold for this time of year.

“He’s agreed to twenty paces, Tony. One shot each.” Tony’s cousin Winwood looked serious for once.

“Is it light enough yet?” Tony asked numbly, his only concern at this point to get the affair over with. Dueling was so stupid.

“Give it another few minutes,” said Win, scanning the eastern horizon.

“What did Vonne say when you conveyed my apologies to him?” Tony asked tiredly.

“Tony, you made love to his wife. You can’t just apologize and expect that to be an end to it.”

“I know,” said Tony, shaking his head, “but I was drunk— Drunk! I must have been insane.” The only hatless man present, Tony ran an impatient hand through his damp brown hair.

“You can best Vonne. I’ve seen you shoot. You are sober now, aren’t you?” Winwood asked, in some concern.

“Very!”

Winwood left Tony alone and went to talk in whispers to the few other men clustered under the dripping trees. The rain had stopped, and Tony thought that once the fog lifted it might be a fine day...for someone else. It was amazing how fast the sky lightened, and one could say it was now daylight, rather than night, even without a sunrise.

Lord Vonne paced idly, as though this were an everyday matter to him. Indeed, it nearly was. He had fought three other men in the short time he had been married to Madeleine. His black goatee and mustache looked particularly sinister in the dim light.

Vonne caught Tony looking at him, and nodded in a businesslike way. Tony went to stand back-to-back with him. The count went quickly as the two men strode away from each other. But Tony needed no time to decide what to do. He had considered it all night.

When it was time, he turned, brought the pistol up deliberately beside his head and fired into the air. He was, after all, in the wrong.

Vonne waited, as though he had half expected this. He slowly took aim and fired. Tony did no more than sway for a moment, as though he had lost his footing. There was something warm below his collarbone. Strange that it should feel only as though someone had run into him. It was not what he had been expecting. There was an unpleasant roaring in his ears that would have blotted out all talk, if there had been any. Then he couldn’t see.

They all stood motionless, watching him. It seemed a long time. When he tried to take a step, he went down on his knees.

“He’s hit!” yelled Winwood, and ran to catch Tony as he fell forward.

* * *

The sun was streaming into the Barclay drawing room after a night of rain and morning of dreary clouds.

“I hear that young Cairnbrooke has been shot,” Lady Jane Stanley said to her young protégée Serafina Barclay.

“What a pity. I hope he survives,” said Sera, turning her attention from the sunshine to Lady Jane.

Her hazel eyes were quite lovely, Lady Jane thought. The child’s nose could be straighter, but she had a good figure and lovely hair, a delicate brown touched with auburn. All things considered, the nose was not all that noticeable.

“Why are you staring at me?” Sera asked, laughing at her older friend’s myopic regard. Lady Jane always reminded Sera of an inquisitive bird, especially because of the way the ringlets of hair danced above her ears when she cocked her head.

“You know him?”

“I’ve met him...at an assembly. He hardly gave me a second glance, of course. He had eyes only for Lady Vonne.”

“But, my dear, that is the woman he was shot over.”

“She seems such a cruel woman. You would think men would be smart enough to see through her. If she has a dozen lovers, she can’t possibly care about all of them.”

“Men may be smart where money is concerned and quite dense in other matters.” Lady Jane clapped her teacup down in its saucer decisively, causing Sera to look up in inquiry.

“One really feels for such a misguided boy.”