“Well played,” Mr. Howard said to Brookhouse with an uncharacteristically somber nod. He slowly lowered his card. The three of hearts. A trump. “Unfortunately,” a wolflike smirk slowly raised the corners of his mouth, “not well enough.”
I shrugged at Harriet, and she shrugged back. Win or not, it was nice to be on her team.
Mr. Howard and Davis controlled the next three hands, one of which Davis won with the ace of hearts, forcing Harriet and me to each lose a trump card.
I was getting reacquainted with Harriet’s face today, but sadly it was mostly her disappointed one.
We lost that hand by several points.
It took only two more hands for Mr. Howard and Davis to win outright.
“And now,” Mr. Howard said, standing and looking over the rest of us as though we were serfs in his kingdom. “Lieutenant Davis, why don’t you mete out the first of the forfeits?”
Davis stayed seated, but he smiled slowly. Davis was the quiet sort who didn’t often hold the attention of a room, but it didn’t mean he didn’t like to. After glancing around at his four possible victims, he turned to me. “Captain.”
“Yes?” I answered cautiously.
“Don’t squander this, Davis,” Brookhouse interjected. “Think of all the times Calder made us tidy our quarters and march an extra mile.”
Davis shrugged. “My quarters were always tidy.”
“And,” I added with a disparaging glance at Brookhouse, “he can march twice as many miles with half as much complaining as you.” Since Davis held the power of forfeits in his hands, it was most certainly a time for flattery.
My put-down hadn’t affected Brookhouse in the least. He elbowed Davis. “Make him kiss one of the lady’s hands.”
Mr. Howard shook his head. “Don’t waste a forfeit, Davis. Any man would see that as a reward.”
“True,” Davis agreed with a sigh. “But I wouldn’t mind discovering which of the two ladies he would choose.”
I met Davis’s eyes. He suspected something, but what? If he knew Harriet was the owner of the glove I kept with me, he would know whose hand I would have picked.
Brookhouse was unaware of the communication happening silently between Davis and me. He bumped Davis on theshoulder. “Tell us the name of the woman with whom you share a secret.”
My eyes flew to Miss Blackwell’s. Hers were wide, and then they were gone, looking down at the cards still strewn about the table. I shook my head and absentmindedly put a hand to my breast pocket. Brookhouse was wondering about the owner of the glove, not the woman who stayed with me overnight. Why had I thought of Miss Blackwell first?
“Did you win, Brookhouse?” I asked roughly. “Let Davis make his own decisions.”
“That’s a good one,” Davis said slowly, “but I won’t choose it. Tell us instead your fondest dream, Captain.”
Brookhouse groaned and dropped his head to Davis’s shoulder. “What a waste.”
Perhaps it was a waste, for the answer to that was simple.
I saw that dream every night while I was at war: Applewood, Papa, May, and Arthur, all there. Me, young again, with no wars and no death—simply living. But that wasn’t the kind of dream these men wanted. It was nothing I could reach for. The time for that kind of life had come and gone.
“I want a simple life.” My eyes raised to Harriet’s. She watched me intently. She knew of all of my heart's desires, for I’d shared them with her six years ago. In fact, she’d helped form them. “A wife,” I said softly, and her eyes darted down. I cursed myself for showing my hand too clearly, and followed her lead, making my eyes focus elsewhere. Unfortunately Miss Blackwell sat next to Harriet and I caught her eyes instead. “Children,” I said, my voice low, but carrying. “To love and be loved in a place called home.”
Miss Blackwell swallowed hard. It was time to look down, look away, look anywhere but at the two women who sat across from me, but something about the way Miss Blackwell returned my gaze confused me. Her brows were furrowed as if I’dconfused her. Did she think I hadn’t wanted those things? They were mostly universal, weren’t they?
Her eyes dropped first and whatever spell had tied us together for that moment broke. I glanced back at Harriet, who wore a soft smile on her face. I’d finally said something that pleased her.
Brookhouse snorted. “That could be any man’s dream. Can’t you share any more specifics?”
“I answered the question honestly, Brookhouse. You can be specific on your own forfeit.”
Mr. Howard clapped his hands. “It sounds as though Lieutenant Brookhouse desires to be next. You strike me as the kind of man who will enjoy most any forfeit, which makes this especially difficult.”
“Because you don’t want me to enjoy it?” Brookhouse asked.
