Andrew closed the door to his room, cocooning Diana and him. “You look breathtaking.”
She ducked her chin, reminding him of her namesake. “Oh, this old thing. It’s something I pulled out of the back of the closet.”
“It’s not the frock I’m speaking of.” If only their plans called for a quiet evening instead of separate wedding activities. He’d enjoy peeling her out of her ensemble, beginning with the stiletto heels.
“What is it then?” Diana stepped into his embrace.
“This lovely blush for one thing.” He trailed his hand from her cheek, down her neck, to her décolletage. “And the way you caught the sun yesterday while lying by the pool.”
“Correction. I was going over last-minute changes to the reception menu. I happened to be poolside while doing it.”
“I admire the way you manage to balance work and pleasure.” He appreciated everything about her, especially the way their bodies fit so nicely together.
“Too bad we can’t do a better job of creating that equilibrium tonight. What time do you think you and the guys will be back from Vicksburg?”
“Uncle Neville likes to stick to his schedule. Dinner at eight. Bed by eleven.”
“Mama’s bridal shower will be over long before then.”
Andrew fingered a curl that had come lose from her chignon. “Will you wait up for me?”
“I could be persuaded to forfeit sleep for the right price.”
He nibbled her earlobe. “I have the offering in mind.”
“You have a deal.” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “Room service will bring you up something as soon as you return.”
He’d come to love Greenbrier’s room service. “Now you’re making it difficult for me to leave.”
She tugged from his embrace. “I know. Me too.”
“If we’re going to keep things under wraps, we need to be careful.” Guilt panged him. Nothing in the world would give him greater pleasure than to tell the whole world he’d fallen for Diana Curtis. However, in revealing the fact, he’d risk exposing another. One he was desperate to keep from her. “We wouldn’t want to take focus away from Neville and Jackie’s happy event.”
Diana gnawed her lip. “You’re right.” She lowered her gaze. “I’ll see you later. Have a good time with Doc James and the guys.”
He barked a laugh. “I’m sure it will be a night to remember.”
Greenbrier’s chef, the head gardener, and the husband of Diana’s events manager were joining the veterinarian for Neville’s bachelor party. As pleasant as the chaps surely were, he barely knew them, and the only thing they had in common were the Curtis women—not much to base an entire evening’s conversation on. Especially when he suspected Doc James harbored feelings for Diana.
Not long after slipping from Andrew’s suite, Diana sat in a metal folding chair Mrs. Baxter had borrowed from the church hall. Along with the other women in the living room, she balanced a plate of cheese straws and petit fours on her knee while attempting to drink the ubiquitous, frothy punch.
At least it’s lime sherbet this time.
Diana sipped the syrupy-sweet concoction as her mother opened presents. Between nibbles, she recorded the gifts and the giver, so Jackie could get started on the thank-you notes first thing in the morning. Her mind wandered beyond the place settings and dish towels. It wasn’t the dress-ruining raspberry punch from the last wedding hosted at Greenbrier on her mind now.
What was Andrew’s secret?
She’d known him a matter of days, so inevitably there were mountains of undivulged facts. Habits, preferences, girlfriends. This was bigger, deeper, broader. And he was actively keeping it from her.
“You’re looking tired, dear. Have you been working too hard?” Diana’s kindergarten teacher studied her with the same critical eye as when she’d colored pictures outside the lines.
Diana smiled at the well-preserved matron on her right. “Not too hard, Mrs. Leffler. Just the right amount.”
Only planning a wedding fit for the queen of the garden club in less than a week all while maintaining two other enterprises.
“Have you considered adding an eye cream to your nightly routine. It’s never too early to fight Father Time.” Since retiring, the woman had begun selling Mary Maybelle Cosmetics and earned a lilac convertible for her efforts.
“I’ll borrow Mama’s.”
“When can we expect to hear wedding bells for you?”
“Not any time soon. I’m married to my work at present.”
Diana looked around the room. Much had changed in their little corner of the world in the space of a generation. Among the attendees were an optometrist, school administrator, police officer, and several business owners mixed in with the stay-at-home moms. Rather than easing the pressure to adhere to traditional gender roles, it seemed to add to societal expectations. Now a woman had to do it all, have it all, be it all, to be considered a success. Right now, she would settle for keeping her accounts in the black and a corner piece of Beverly Bakery’s famous sheet cake with cream cheese frosting.
A future with Andrew seemed too much to expect.
Her thoughts raced ahead to Lord and Lady Somerset’s arrival tomorrow. Dread snaked up her spine and not only because they were laying eyes on the next Duchess of Effingham for the first time.
Having only dated guys from Greenville, she’d never experienced a meet-the-parents moment. They’d all known her since birth. What would Andrew’s folks think of her? Not that it mattered, since they wouldn’t be meeting her as Andrew’s love interest. Still…
From her left, Jasmine elbowed her. “Pay attention. You’re supposed to be writing this down.”
Diana jolted. “Right.” She tracked the movement of presents as they circled the room. “What did I miss?”
“Only Ida Douglas’s gift.”
Purple. Crocheted. Placemats. “Oh my.”
“Wonder how that’s going to look in Dukie Dear’s castle.”
Diana stifled a laugh. “Stop. It’s bad enough when Mama says it. Besides I don’t think Chatham Park is a castle.”
“Have you seen pictures?”
“Only on the internet. It’s big though. Makes Greenbrier look like a doublewide.”
The day Neville and Andrew arrived, Diana did a basic search on the aristocrats. Burke’s Peerage, Debrett’s, and good ole Wikipedia. The snooping shamed her now she knew them better. At the time she wanted to make certain whom her mother had dragged home.
“Have they said when they’re leaving?”
“Not for a while. Andrew suggested they stay here for a few months.” Which had set off alarm bells. Why didn’t he want the newlyweds in England? That paired with her questions regarding his need to keep their relationship under wraps. Her lover was keeping secrets, but what, she couldn’t figure out.
Between that and making love with said secret-keeper, no wonder Mrs. Leffler suggested eye cream. Before things returned to normal she’d probably be the woman’s best customer.
Ten miles south of Greenville, in the moderately larger metropolis of Vicksburg, Andrew, Neville and their motley crew of revelers were in their second stop of the night—a private dining room of a casino.
“Talk about a busman’s holiday.”
The rattle of electronic gaming machines permeated through the red, flocked walls. Of all the gaming establishments he’d frequented in his career, the Lucky Lady had to be the most neon saturated. Even their dining table boasted a rope of flashing blue glowing beneath.
“A toast,” Doc James raised his voice as well as his glass. “To the groom. Many happy years ahead.”
Chef eyed Uncle Neville over his pint. “You be good to Miss Jackie.”
Greenbrier’s gardener grinned. “Hear, hear.” Despite getting carded at every turn, he seemed to be enjoying the stag night—perhaps better than all the others combined. He took another sip of his beer then wiped the foam from his lips. “She’s one of a kind.”
Jasmine’s husband, an army sergeant called Wes, added his voice. “We love her like our own mother.”
Uncle Neville tipped his glass of whiskey to each man in turn. “I shall endeavor to make her the happiest woman alive.”
“One of us ought to give the duke some words of wisdom,” said the sergeant. “Isn’t that part of what we’re supposed to be doing tonight? At least that’s what Jasmine told me.”
“I’m out.” Young Jacob raised his hands in surrender. “I’m on the lifetime bachelor plan.”
“How about you, Sarge?” Chef asked. “You and Jasmine have a good thing going. Let’s hear something from you.”
“She’s put up with me through five deployments. I’m lucky to have her, and she makes sure I know it.”
Chef jabbed Wes in the shoulder with a beefy finger. “Come on, there has to be something.”
He ran his palm over his close-cropped afro. “I bring her coffee in bed every morning.”
Andrew made eye contact with Neville across the table.
Don’t say it. Don’t say a word about staff bringing breakfast to the estate’s chatelaine in her suite.
“Sounds like a wise practice. I’ll remember that one.”
Andrew let out a breath and quickly shifted the focus. “How about you, Doc? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”
“Like that’s unusual,” Jacob muttered.
“I don’t have anything to offer on the matter.”
“Yeah, we all know the only females you’re interested in have four legs and eat grass.”
He laughed. “They are easier to decipher than the two-legged variety.”
“Now I happen to know you went out with Khristy Williams a few years back,” Wes said.
“And you’ve had a thing for Miss Diana as long as I’ve know you,” Jacob added.
Andrew’s hackles rose. Which was ridiculous. He could hardly blame the chap for admiring Diana. Wanting to be with her. Only an idiot wouldn’t. Or die trying to find a way to make himself worthy of her.
“The only advice I’ve got is to never keep secrets nor let something small or insignificant stand in the way of love. Especially not something stupid like pride.”
Wes nodded. “The Good Book does say it goeth before a fall.”
Andrew disagreed with this bit of advice. What would Diana think of his family—of him—if she knew. And pride, when it was all one had, one clung to it quite tightly. His gaze shot to his uncle who was taking in the marital advice with the solemnity of the marriage vows he’d take in a few days. Pride and duty kept Andrew going when he wanted to call it a day. Wanted to go his own way. Wanted…Diana.
He clapped his hands, shaking them all from their gravity. “Now we have the serious business out of the way, it’s on to the fun.”
“This isn’t a topless show.” Wes’ black eyes widened. “I promised Jasmine the only boobies I’d ever look at are hers.”
“Hen-pecked, much?” Jacob taunted from across the table.
“Gladly. You’ve seen my wife?”
“No need to worry. It’s a family-friendly show.” Andrew had arranged for them to see a well-known troupe who employed drums and paint as their means of entertainment. Their seats were center-front but out of the splash-zone. “We better head in so we’re not late.”
The men had settled in their seats and the house lights lowered when his phone vibrated in his pocket. His first impulse was to ignore it, but with his parents soon in route, he dared not.
Maybe it’s Diana texting that she’s waiting for me.
No such luck.
—Bank of England. Overdraft alert. Account ending in 5743 is overdrawn by £2,374.67—
Acid churned in his stomach. His father’s account. As if he didn’t have enough to manage with Uncle Neville. What was his old man up to now? There was nothing for it but to cover the overdraft—plus a bit more. Problem was, having been away from his work his own coffers were less than he liked. As it so happened a source of income lay yards away. He leaned over to his uncle. “I have a matter needing my attention.”
Neville arched a brow. “Problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle with a little time at the tables.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Possibly.” They’d ridden together in the sergeant’s large SUV. “I’ll need to stay if the table is hot.” Which could jeopardize his date with Diana. Bloody hell, he’d grown weary of this rock-and-hard-place.
“I’ll need to delay our departure without drawing attention to the reason why.”
“If you can manage it.”
“Count on me. I can suggest a round of drinks or time at the slot machines.”
Andrew gripped Neville’s shoulder as he rose from his seat. “Wish me luck.”
After exiting the theater, he wound his way through the main lobby, past the areas where poker and roulette were played, and over to the blackjack tables. He motioned a waitress for a drink and took his time surveying the ongoing games while he waited. Hot tables were to be avoided. Too much attention for his purposes. Tables with too many available seats didn’t suit either for the same reason. By the time his gin and tonic arrived, he’d found what he wanted. A couple of tourists mixed with university-aged students and an older man. Most importantly, the dealer had started a new shoe.
He settled in the seat on the far left and placed the minimum bet. His gaze found the security cameras and the pit boss. The dealer dealt everyone’s cards, giving Andrew a ten of clubs and seven of diamonds.
The man to his right leaned over. “You’re going to want to hold on that one.”
Andrew often received advice from fellow players. Some gave it to steer others wrong. Some because it made them feel like a whale. Some were lonely and wanted to talk.
This man appeared to fall in the last category. Dressed in a leisure suit straight out of the seventies with a hairstyle to match, it seemed possible he’d been in residence since that decade.
“I believe I’ll take that advice.” After all, Andrew liked to begin conservatively until the shoe swung in favor of the players.
More cards were drawn. The tourists busted. And when the dealer drew a nine of spades to his collective seventeen, he also went over twenty-one. Andrew and the old pro collected their winnings while the dealer cleared the cards.
Andrew raised his gin and tonic. “Cheers.”
“Dusty,” the man said offering his hand.
“Andrew.” He signaled the waitress. “A drink for my friend. What’s your pleasure?”
“These days I stick to Cokes. It helps with the concentration.”
Another round began with bets placed and cards dealt.
“More sage wisdom.” Between keeping track of the count, his strategy, and the pit boss’s location, he had plenty to fill his brain. Add an awareness of time, financial pressure, and a simmering desire for the end of the evening and smoke should have been coming out his ears.
Several hands passed with Andrew splitting his bets when appropriate, steadily increasing his wager, and only busting once. The other players made small talk with Andrew and Dusty keeping to themselves.
“Card,” he said, calculating the next would likely be a low one. It was. Which brought Andrew’s winnings up to a thousand. On the next hand, along with his bet he added a tip for the dealer.
Dusty polished off his Coke. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I’m based in London. You?”
A dozen hands passed in silence. The table got hotter and despite the pit boss replacing the dealer, Andrew continued to play his strategy and win.
“I used to live in a town not too far up the road.”
The old gambler had been silent for so long, Andrew had trouble recalling the thread of their conversation. “What’s the name?”
“You wouldn’t have heard of it. It’s barely bigger than a gnat’s ass. Greenville. Born, bred, and wed. Haven’t been back for more than twenty years though. Not sure what calls me back to this part of the country now.”
“I’ve heard of it. My uncle and I are staying at the Greenbrier.”
“You know the owner, old man Dansfield?”
“He’s deceased. A few years ago, from what I’ve been told. I’m acquainted with his granddaughter, Miss Diana Curtis.”
Dusty’s gaze narrowed. “I ’spect you are.”
The hairs on Andrew’s arm stood at attention. “Lovely lady. Good head on her shoulders.” He’d made enough to cover his immediate problem. “I’m going to cash in. My uncle and I are out celebrating his stag night, and I’ve already been away from the group too long.”
“Who’s your uncle marrying? It might be someone I used to know.”
“Diana’s mother, Jackie.”
The gambler stiffened for the briefest moment. “That a fact?” He turned his attention to his hand. “Enjoy your night.”
Bloody hell. If only he could snatch back his words. Have chosen another table. “We will.”
Andrew collected his winnings, hurrying to the lobby where he found Uncle Neville and the others waiting. There’d been moments when he’d left a casino—with help. There were establishments that would no longer book his action. However, he’d never left with the feeling a problem would follow him—until now.