Her hand was a good one, very good. Her draw was even better, and she took careful note of the next few cards so she could remember them if Lord Ashworth picked them up. She’d had such hands before and knew precisely how to play it.
They moved through the points, sequences, triplets, and fours with alacrity. She sunk nothing, her hand was so strong that she need not feint and rather thought it would be pleasant to communicate that strength to her opponent. He was good enough at the game that she could see he did rapid calculations in his head. He knew he was in for a time of it.
She took the first trick, and then the majority after that.
Now that she played Lord Ashworth for a second time, she began to see more clearly some of his weaknesses.
He twice turned over his discards, so his memory was not as good as her own. She had no need to examine her pile or wonder about his. They conveniently ranged themselves in her mind. This put him at a serious disadvantage—he might peek at his own pile all he liked, but he could not look at hers.
His expression, while for the most part neutral, did give some hints. When he was disturbed, there was the slightest tightening of his mouth. When he thought he’d win the trick, there was the smallest narrowing of his eyes.
His hands showed his confidence, or lack thereof, in his cards. Smooth and quick, or slower and slightly uneven.
These subtle changes would go unremarked by most people, but not to Lily.
Lily handily won the first game. She noted Lord Dalton move away with a look of disgust while Lady Montague appeared a well-fed cat. Mrs. Hemming, despite having reservations about the game, could not help but be approving of Lily’s win.
The match went on, point by point. Lily would give the lord some credit for being more skilled than most. She found she must use all of her concentration, all of her strategies, and all of her attention to her opponent’s varying expressions, lest she allow him to overcome her.
That he did not overcome her was evidenced by the applause as she reached one-hundred points.
As she always did at the end of a hard-won game, Lily felt a sense of exhaustion. It was as if her mind had expended every ounce of energy in her body.
As the onlookers drifted away, talking among themselves of this famous rematch, Lord Ashworth said quietly, “What trickery do you employ?”
Lily felt a burst of flame upon her cheeks. Trickery? Did he just have the audacity to accuse her of cheating?
“My lord, you have been soundly beaten, and fairly,” she said.
Before Lord Ashworth could respond, he was unceremoniously hauled to his feet by Lord Dalton.
“My apologies, Lady Montague,” Lord Dalton said, holding tight to his friend’s arm. “You do recall we said we had another engagement? Otherwise, we would have been pleased to stay longer.”
Lady Montague might have, in other circumstances, been irritated to see her two prize guests depart her evening early. In this circumstance, however, she appeared to view it in all good humor.
As well she should, Lily thought. The lady had maneuvered to produce enough gossip for a week.
*
Lily had spentthe rest of the evening at Lady Montague’s as an object of interest. There were those who sought out her advice on this strategy or that. There were those who congratulated her on prevailing over one of the most respected gamblers in town. There were many who pressed her to partner at whist, particularly Mrs. Layton, though none of them had never seen Lily play that particular game.
Lady Montague was all condescension, as if she had done Lily some great favor. The lady’s friends congratulated her on an interesting evening and she took it in as if she were a feudal lord accepting her vassals’ fealty.
Finally, she and her aunt had made their departure. Lily hoped to never see the inside of Lady Montague’s drawing room again.
As exhausted as she was when she returned to her aunt’s house, Lily had a deal of trouble falling asleep. Her thoughts were agitated as they could not settle in one direction.
She had won fifty pounds! It was such a marvelous idea that it did not seem real. What a sum! Of course, Lord Ashworth would not miss it, it would be nothing to him. But to Lily Farnsworth, it was an incredible amount. She would send half to her father and use the rest when she and her aunt went to visit Lady Carradine’s club.
It was a happy thought, indeed.
And then, there were the unhappy thoughts. Lord Ashworth was everything contemptible in a man. His good looks and competency at cards had led him to believe he was superior in every way. As if his enraging condescension were not enough, he could not even lose graciously.
He’d asked her what trickery she employed, as if she were some sort of scoundrel who had devised a way to cheat.
She did not think many had overheard that particular comment, perhaps only Lord Dalton. Still, it infuriated her. Everybody who viewed that game would be well aware that skill had won the day, not trickery. How dare he imply such a thing?
He was intolerable and it would please her if he and his handsome face jumped off London Bridge. It would please her even more if he did so and suddenly recalled that he could not swim.
