"How so?"
"Many of the duke's guests will be younger sons who bear courtesy titles but have no property or means outside of the diplomatic corps. I warn you to take great care with such men."
"Did you not just describe yourself, Mr. Needham?"
"No, my lady. The difference is that I would never presume to pay suit to a lady when I have nothing to offer her."
Never? Mariah's heart gave a painful squeeze. "You believe you have nothing to offer? I beg to differ with you. You are well bred, are you not? You are also young, intelligent, and ambitious." She barely caught herself from adding handsome to his list of attributes. Although she found it increasingly difficult to ignore his good looks, it was hardly relevant to the discussion. "Many men in like positions to yours have achieved greatness without having been born into it."
"My lady, while I consider myself a competent and sensible man, I do not delude myself with visions of grandeur. To do so would be needless torture."
"But didn't you say that you once hoped to achieve a ministry post?"
"That was before I fully understood the workings of the machine," he said.
She marveled that the men in charge of the government could be such self-aggrandizing fools that they refused to recognize a man for his true worth. Then again, she hadn't enough experience of such men or matters to know.
"But now that you do understand, is there not a way to work this so-called machine in your favor?" she asked.
"How do you mean?"
"You said earlier that the Duke of Bedford is fond of cricket. Do you play?"
"I have little time for sporting pursuits."
Mariah slanted her gaze upward and replied with a smile, "But if patronage is indeed how the wheels of this machine turn, perhaps, Mr. Needham, you should take up the game?"
***
Nick considered her for a long, silent moment. It wasn't the actual remark she had made, but the look that accompanied it. He was certain she was unaware of it, but the seductive wood nymph had reappeared. There was something mesmerizing about the angle of her head, the way she pursed her lips, and the stray curl that had entangled itself about her ear that made him suddenly want to touch her. The urge was so powerful he had to close his hands against it. "I used to play," he replied. "Back in my university days."
"And I used to play the harpsichord," she said, "but I was never any good. So now I must ask, were you good, Mr. Needham?"
"I was one of the better batsmen," he replied. "I frequently hit over the boundary."
"Indeed?" Her eyes challenged as her gaze held his. "Then one wonders if you still possess talent with your bat or if it has diminished with disuse."
Nick shifted in his seat. If this were any other woman of his acquaintance, he would have no doubt of the sexual innuendo, but he was as certain as he lived and breathed that the "bat" to which Lady Mariah referred was merely the club made of willow. "I don't know. I haven't held a cricket bat in over five years," he said.
As to the other, at the moment he was absolutely certain it had not suffered from prolonged disuse. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been with a woman, probably over a year ago at the preliminary peace talks in Breda. Given their success in setting the stage for a treaty, he'd indulged in a rare spree of celebratory dissipation.
Nick had never had a mistress. He'd never even entertained thoughts of keeping a woman for pleasure, for the very same reason he'd never contemplated marriage—because he was man of extremely limited means. His only hope to improve his circumstances would be advancement in the diplomatic corps, which meant endless work and constant travel. He'd long ago accepted that work would fill his hours and emptiness would be his constant bedmate—a dismal future indeed.
"I wonder what sort of man you are, Mr. Needham," she said. "Are you content to cheer the team on, or will you secretly be itching to best them?"
"Are you dropping the gauntlet, Lady Mariah?" He smiled. "Let us say that Marcus is not the only one who hates to lose."
"Neither do I. I am also possessed of a competitive nature, especially at cards," she confessed with a grin. "I would love to watch you play cricket."
"Given the duke's fondness for the sport, no doubt the opportunity will present. Do you really enjoy the game?"
"I do. I even played a bit when I was a girl. I was a tolerable bowler, but I could never quite master batting. I don't know if it was poor timing, the size of the bat, or the weakness of my stroke, but I always pitied my fellow batsman."
"The size of the bat matters little as long as one employs proper timing and a forceful stroke. Ideally, the two batsmen should be in perfect synchrony as they come together." Nick almost groaned at the innuendo in his own words.