Season for Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

She thinks I’ll behave better if I look like a complete frump.”
    The dress in question was a stiff, fussy apricot organdy, unfashionably high at the neckline. Xavier couldn’t deny that she looked dreadful, so overwhelmed by fabric.
    â€œIt’s not the dress that matters, Jane,” Miss Oliver said with a determined shake of her head. “It is the woman within it.”
    â€œHow well you have worded the matter, Miss Oliver,” Lockwood said. He shifted his chair closer to her and ran his eyes over her body, from face to chest. “The woman within your dress appears to be finely formed indeed.”
    Xavier blinked, his blood running a little hotter. What? Lockwood never flirted with the marriageable.
    Miss Oliver’s head snapped back, and she folded her arms with decisive force. “You have begun the game of speculation early, my lord. But some things are not to be wagered on.”
    â€œMost things are for wager, if the stakes are high enough,” Lockwood said, studying the creamy skin above the fitted bodice of her gown. “I only wish your . . . stakes . . . ran a little lower.”
    Xavier frowned. Lockwood met his gaze and winked broadly.
    Oh. In an instant, it made sense: Lockwood was taunting Miss Oliver. He meant to scandalize her, to chase her from the house party early.
    That was as devious as Xavier’s own tinkering with the guest list. If he had not been serving as host, he would have invented a new expression on the spot. Number Six: Blatantly Annoyed. He would have to keep Lockwood in line if he meant Miss Oliver to stay.
    He might as well be a governess, for all the amusement this house party would yield.
    â€œSuppose we speculate only on our cards,” he said. “As you know, for this game, you must all provide a stake and compensate me as dealer.”
    Miss Oliver relaxed a bit. “For what stakes do we play?”
    Xavier considered. “I assume none of you has a purse full of guineas, so I am happy to permit other methods of payment.”
    â€œMy sister, Julia, and I used to play for hairpins,” Miss Oliver suggested with a wry smile. “Though I doubt your lordships can match that stake.”
    Lockwood looked horrified. “Lord, no. We need a much more adult wager than that. What about sips of brandy? All drink save for the winner.”
    â€œI’d love to see you explain to Mrs. Tindall why her daughter has a bad head tomorrow,” Xavier said, ignoring Jane’s protest. “No, that won’t do for a mixed game.”
    Miss Oliver broke in. “What about time?”
    The others turned to look at her. “What do you mean?” Xavier asked.
    â€œLet us wager time.” Her dark eyes lit as she explained. “We all have an equal and finite measure of it to promise. So in that sense, none of us has an advantage.” She gave a little smile to Jane. “Surely not even your mother would mind that.”
    Lockwood looked skeptical. “I never heard of wagering time. Sounds a bit flat.”
    Xavier had never heard of such a stake, either, but he mulled it over. It was proper on the surface, yet fraught with possibility.
    â€œIt will do admirably,” he decided, and was rewarded with a startlingly lovely smile from Miss Oliver. Not a tight little polite affair, but a joyful grin. Like a crescent moon coming out from behind a cloud, caressing the ground with its soft glow.
    His skin prickled, and he shook himself. Poetic nonsense. He’d been reading too much Dante lately.
    â€œFine, fine,” Jane grumbled as reluctantly as if Miss Oliver had suggested she clean out fireplace grates. “I don’t have anything else to wager. Since someone won’t let me touch my money until I’m of age.”
    Xavier ignored his cousin. “Shall we begin with a stake of fifteen minutes?” He slid three cards to each of the others, then took three for himself. “As dealer, I must