Camellia looked down at the floor. Oh, dear. She was in trouble.
* * * *
After Elliot ended the recital so triumphantly, several guests excused themselves for bed, though Finn noticed Camellia lingering with a few other ladies at the end of the room. Several of the men, fortified with more drinks, decided to play cards. Finn was invited to join when a fourth was needed.
Finn’s mood turned a bit dark as the game began. He didn’t like the way Miss Swift had smiled at Elliot. Yes, she was suitable. Yes, it would be fine if Elliot proposed to her. Finn should be relieved. Lord Grafton would settle a thousand pounds on him for little more than a week of babysitting. But Finn didn’t like it at all. A thousand pounds, when Elliot would get Camellia for the rest of his life? What sort of deal was that?
His foul mood sharpened his focus on the game, and Finn quickly caused the others to rue the invitation. He was simply a far more skilled player. He won several hands in such a spectacular way that the others in the room drifted toward the table, attracted by the events.
At the end of another hand with Finn triumphant, a player threw his remaining cards on the table in disgust.
“You have uncommon luck, sir,” the man said sourly.
“I make my own luck,” Finn said shortly. He had shown no emotion during most of the play. Indeed, he looked only mildly interested in the conversation now.
“What does that mean, sir?”
“What do you think I mean?” Finn gave the man a level look, daring him to call him a cheat.
“Well, I…” The man suddenly looked as if he regretted bringing it up.
“You played the queen of spades on the last trick. Mr Hardaway played the queen of hearts a few tricks previously, and I opened the round with the queen of diamonds. So I knew that it was extremely unlikely that my last trick could be defeated. All the queens and two of the kings had already been played. That sort of keeping track is what I mean when I say I make my own luck.”
Everyone in the room had been listening in on the exchange.
“You are merely saying you see what’s there,” Camellia said quietly.
He looked over at her. It was the first time she’d addressed him directly since their disastrous encounter that morning. “Correct, Miss Swift.”
“I find that very clever,” she said, with the hint of an apology in her tone.
“Oh, so clever.” Mr Hightower spoke up from where he’d been standing nearby. He hadn’t played yet, as he was deep in his cups. “I’ll show you clever. Let’s play a round, you and me.”
Finn assessed Hightower’s inebriated state, then stood up. “It is your right to show someone. But it won’t be me.”
“Afraid?” Hightower swayed slightly, then fortunately collapsed into an empty chair at the gaming table. Finn reflected that it was likely the best piece of luck the drunk man would have. “Are you afraid?”
“If it pleases you to think so,” Finn returned coldly. He was done with kowtowing to his better tonight. Finn didn’t care in the least what Hightower or anyone else thought of him.
Hightower wasn’t done. “Come play me. I insist.”
“Insist away.” Finn walked to the door. “You’ll find it won’t help. But I do know an excellent hangover cure. Have your man come and ask me for it in the morning…if you can remember this exchange.” Then he strode out of the room.
Only when he got into the hallway did he hear Camellia call his name softly from behind him. But his pride wouldn’t allow him to go back, not into that lot’s company. He’d rather be tossed out to the wolves.
Chapter 10
The evening ended quickly after the altercation at the card table. Camellia and the other ladies all agreed that Mr Hightower had been intolerably rude to Mr Ryder. Accusing a man of cheating at cards was perhaps even worse than accusing him of murder…which Finn would know all too well. No wonder he left in disgust.
Camellia was so tired that when she lay down in her bed, she fell asleep almost immediately, despite a rising wind and the promise of bad weather. In the middle of the night, though, Camellia woke up. She thought she heard the end of a woman’s scream, but she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t dreamed it. She reached out to relight the candle by the bedside.
As she did so, she heard a new sound. It must be outside. It must. It was a barking, baying sound, like a pack of dogs. But on such a night, in the middle of winter… Could it be wolves? Wouldn’t the Fitzgeralds have a groundskeeper to hunt for wolves, in order to keep them away from the castle? The sound came again. Camellia could not be sure it was dogs now. Perhaps it was just the wind howling, or far off thunder.
A sudden knocking sound made her squeak.
“Camellia?” Mrs Bloomfield’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you awake?”
Camellia climbed out of bed and hurried to the door. “Mrs Bloomfield! What’s the matter?” she asked, stepping out into the hall.
