The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) by Jerrica Knight-Catania, Catherine Gayle, Ava Stone, Jane Charles
Tags: Historical Romance, Anthology, Regency Romance, regency anthology, catherine gayle, jerrica knightcatania, jane charles, ava stone
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for Davis.”
As soon as he stepped into the corridor, Jason slid his arms around Pippa’s waist, drawing her flush against him. His blue eyes sparkled with merriment. “Well, that went better than I’d thought.”
Pippa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “He threatened to let Harry kill you.”
Jason dipped his head, capturing her lips. When Pippa sighed, Jason swept his tongue into her mouth and world seemed to turn on its side. She clutched his jacket in her fists and held on to keep from falling to the ground.
After a moment, Jason lifted his head, his roguish grin firmly in place, and said, “Someone ought to warn Potsdon he’s out five hundred pounds, because just as soon as we repeat our vows, I plan to bed my wife over and over again.”
Pippa cheeks blazed and she was certain a blush would stain them the rest of her days. She couldn’t wait.
To Ava, Jerrica and Jane, for helping me bring Georgie to life, and to Erin for getting her up in the air.
~ Catherine
Lord Falkland bets Lord Jefferson Blount two hundred fifty pounds that Lord Haworth will ensure the ruination of Lady Georgianna Bexley-Smythe by 15 May unless the Marquess of Stalbridge returns to Town and settles his debts before that date.
~19 April, 1813
Damn Bridge to hell and back.
And then to hell again, for good measure.
Cedric Loring, fourth Earl of Montague, called upon every blessed ounce of patience he still possessed, which admittedly was very little, as he strained to ignore the bet written just above the position of his quill in the book at White’s. The implement shuddered ever-so-slightly in his hand, so he gritted his teeth, dipped it in the ink pot once more, and then wrote: Lord Montague bets Mr. Nelson Guest fifty pounds that the first week of the 1813 Season will pass without a betrothal announcement. ~19 April, 1813.
His bet was perfectly harmless—just a way to ease himself into the new Season. After all, visiting White’s was what a gentleman was expected to do whilst in Town, and what was one to do while visiting White’s but wager on inane and meaningless things?
The wager involving Georgie, however, was neither inane nor meaningless.
Cedric resituated the quill where he’d found it and then turned to Guest, slapping a hand on his back. “That settles that, then. At least until one of us can collect from the other.”
“ And so it does.” Guest gave him a droll smile. “I’ll be happy to accept my winnings from you here next Monday.”
Cedric gave a half-hearted laugh. “We shall see, my friend. We shall see.” There were other things he needed to see to first, however, not the least of which was the protection of his longest friend’s sister. “For now, I must be off.” Without wasting any more time in the banal gentleman’s club, he gathered his hat and gloves and made his escape, lest he be drawn into something else of the fruitless and senseless variety.
Once out on St. James Street, he pulled out his watch fob. Three o’clock. Perhaps a bit early for a call, but surely Lady Stalbridge would forgive him for such an abnormality. It was only the first day of the new Season, after all. The ladies wouldn’t have been out too late last night.
Cedric turned up Piccadilly and made his way to Number Seven, Berkeley Square.
Jensen led him into the drawing room without even the slightest hint of surprise at his early and unexpected arrival. “I’ll inform Lady Stalbridge of your arrival, my lord, and Eloise will be in with a tea service momentarily,” the stodgy, greying butler said. He gave a brief inclination of his head before departing.
Cedric used the few moments he had alone to gather his wits about him. Lady Stalbridge and her daughters must not discover that Georgie’s name was in the book at White’s. The marchioness could possibly learn of it when Georgie neglected to receive a voucher for Almack’s. That said, there were more than enough other reasons for
As soon as he stepped into the corridor, Jason slid his arms around Pippa’s waist, drawing her flush against him. His blue eyes sparkled with merriment. “Well, that went better than I’d thought.”
Pippa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “He threatened to let Harry kill you.”
Jason dipped his head, capturing her lips. When Pippa sighed, Jason swept his tongue into her mouth and world seemed to turn on its side. She clutched his jacket in her fists and held on to keep from falling to the ground.
After a moment, Jason lifted his head, his roguish grin firmly in place, and said, “Someone ought to warn Potsdon he’s out five hundred pounds, because just as soon as we repeat our vows, I plan to bed my wife over and over again.”
Pippa cheeks blazed and she was certain a blush would stain them the rest of her days. She couldn’t wait.
To Ava, Jerrica and Jane, for helping me bring Georgie to life, and to Erin for getting her up in the air.
~ Catherine
Lord Falkland bets Lord Jefferson Blount two hundred fifty pounds that Lord Haworth will ensure the ruination of Lady Georgianna Bexley-Smythe by 15 May unless the Marquess of Stalbridge returns to Town and settles his debts before that date.
~19 April, 1813
Damn Bridge to hell and back.
And then to hell again, for good measure.
Cedric Loring, fourth Earl of Montague, called upon every blessed ounce of patience he still possessed, which admittedly was very little, as he strained to ignore the bet written just above the position of his quill in the book at White’s. The implement shuddered ever-so-slightly in his hand, so he gritted his teeth, dipped it in the ink pot once more, and then wrote: Lord Montague bets Mr. Nelson Guest fifty pounds that the first week of the 1813 Season will pass without a betrothal announcement. ~19 April, 1813.
His bet was perfectly harmless—just a way to ease himself into the new Season. After all, visiting White’s was what a gentleman was expected to do whilst in Town, and what was one to do while visiting White’s but wager on inane and meaningless things?
The wager involving Georgie, however, was neither inane nor meaningless.
Cedric resituated the quill where he’d found it and then turned to Guest, slapping a hand on his back. “That settles that, then. At least until one of us can collect from the other.”
“ And so it does.” Guest gave him a droll smile. “I’ll be happy to accept my winnings from you here next Monday.”
Cedric gave a half-hearted laugh. “We shall see, my friend. We shall see.” There were other things he needed to see to first, however, not the least of which was the protection of his longest friend’s sister. “For now, I must be off.” Without wasting any more time in the banal gentleman’s club, he gathered his hat and gloves and made his escape, lest he be drawn into something else of the fruitless and senseless variety.
Once out on St. James Street, he pulled out his watch fob. Three o’clock. Perhaps a bit early for a call, but surely Lady Stalbridge would forgive him for such an abnormality. It was only the first day of the new Season, after all. The ladies wouldn’t have been out too late last night.
Cedric turned up Piccadilly and made his way to Number Seven, Berkeley Square.
Jensen led him into the drawing room without even the slightest hint of surprise at his early and unexpected arrival. “I’ll inform Lady Stalbridge of your arrival, my lord, and Eloise will be in with a tea service momentarily,” the stodgy, greying butler said. He gave a brief inclination of his head before departing.
Cedric used the few moments he had alone to gather his wits about him. Lady Stalbridge and her daughters must not discover that Georgie’s name was in the book at White’s. The marchioness could possibly learn of it when Georgie neglected to receive a voucher for Almack’s. That said, there were more than enough other reasons for
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