Distractedly, she realised Benedict had won another trick. Damn man, she should have laid her better card rather than saving it for later. Lucas gave her a rueful smile. She herself had a number of trump cards, but it appeared Lucas didn’t have any; if only she could share hers out.
The butler arrived with hot wine in jugs and brought glasses to the table. Benedict and Mrs Mereworth sipped in delight. The wine was liberally laced with brandy and many a man had gulped the sweet concoction, only to be then found reeling an hour later.
She watched Lucas bring the glass to his lips, his eyes fixed firmly on the cards as he took a large gulp. Abruptly, it fell from his hand, smashing onto the floor, and he flung back the chair, bringing it crashing to the ground as he stood.
“Excuse me, I have to–” And he rushed to the terrace doors, throwing them open.
“What the devil?” Benedict grumbled, also standing as cold air rushed in.
Rosalind rose from her seat. “What’s in that wine, Cooper?”
“Only the usual, Miss. Nutmeg, brandy, lots of cinnamon, of course.”
“Oh dear.” Rosalind knew instantly. Cinnamon was frequently added to laudanum to make the taste more palatable and, indeed, her own maid added it to her tea to help her sleep.
“Stay here, Ben. I will see to him.” Grabbing the decanter of whisky, she rushed to the doors.
It was freezing outside, and she could hear the sound of retching.
“Lucas?”
“For God’s sake, woman, you don’t want to see this. Go back inside.”
“I will not. I have whisky to take the taste away.”
She rounded the corner and from the dim light of the house, she could see his face was ashen. He wiped his mouth on a sleeve and stared at her.
“I have a bad reaction to spices, that’s all.”
“Liar. The cinnamon made it taste like a laudanum concoction. The cook also adds cardamoms, which makes it slightly bitter. Am I right?”
“Damn it, Rosalind, yes. If I had smelled it first, I would have realised but I was distracted. I don’t know why but it just makes me ill nowadays. I’d best have the whisky before it happens again. I doubt you wish to see that.”
Handing him the decanter, she sighed. “Honestly, Lucas. I am not weak-kneed. Mrs Tadlow had the most awful stomach upsets and I nursed her through them.”
“Didn’t you have servants in your father’s household for that?”
She bit her lip. No, she definitely did not have servants in the asylum, but how was she to explain it. “Well, Mrs Tadlow was a very private person and only wanted my help.”
He looked a little confused but glugged from the decanter, seemingly without a splutter.
“Gracious. Do be careful, that’s Benedict’s finest.” A laugh broke from him and she smiled.
“You could have brought the cheap stuff. He’ll have my hide.”
“Theyarealready having our hide, Lucas. We are losing abysmally.” She stood close to him, gazing into those smoky eyes.
“Rosalind, I need to freshen up.”
“That’s fine,” she whispered, drawing her hands up his torso. “But take these with you.”
Three trump cards were held in her fingers.
“Where did you get… Are you suggesting we cheat?”
“Oh. Are you averse to cheating? I know some people are, but you don’t know what Benedict’s like. He will lord it over us all week. He’ll have us fetching him drinks and…and brushing down his horses or something awful.”
“I quite like brushing down horses: it’s very restful.”
