Lily stretched out and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. Lady Carradine’s club had been marvelous. She closed her eyes and saw the whole room before her, from the chandeliers with their sparkling crystals to the intricately engraved packs of cards, the backs a charming drawing of a garden gate with pink roses winding round it. Her aunt had promised they would return soon, and it might even be as early as this evening. They were to go to a dinner held by one of Mrs. Hemming’s longstanding friends and those dinners did not have a propensity to run late.
*
The lords Ashworthand Cabot had taken a table at Destin’s and waited for their coffee.
“How goes the regiment?” Hayes asked.
This was understood by Lord Cabot to be a reference to his current living situation. Since the old dukes had halved their incomes, he and Grayson had found it convenient to move into Dalton’s house. Ashworth had not and paid the bill on his own rented house with gambling. He’d gamely pitched in for his friends’ upkeep, but he had no intention of living with them. He’d said he’d rather starve than recreate his military career and its inherent lack of privacy. Further, he’d never shared a butler or a footman since he’d reached his majority and would not start now.
“We go on jolly enough,” Lord Cabot said. “Dalton has a cracking wine cellar, though he’s got some churlish servants. I’ll swear they make faces behind one’s back when one has announced one will stay in. Dalton says they are used to drinking his wine when the master is not at home and they wish we would all go out and stay out.”
“I do not know why Dalton puts up with Bellamy,” Hayes said of his friend’s butler.
“If you saw some of the company Dalton entertains and Bellamy’s lack of raised eyebrows over it, you might not wonder at it,” Lord Cabot said drily. “By the by, I heard from Grayson that Lady Catherine’s ball was more entertaining than usual. He seems thoroughly set on your lovely nemesis, Miss Farnsworth.”
Hayes bristled to hear it spoken of so casually. “Grayson must stop this nonsense. If he wishes for female companionship, he might go to the theater and find himself a mistress. This toying with ladies of thetonwill be the undoing of him one of these days.”
Lord Cabot straightened his cuffs and said, “Perhaps it will be Miss Farnsworth who is his undoing. Though, God knows if another of us fall I do not see how we’ll ever convince our fathers to leave us alone for another year or two.”
“Miss Farnsworth will hardly find herself mesmerized by Grayson’s smarmy advances,” Lord Ashworth said stiffly. “She is a deal too clever and she is pretty enough to capture wide attention. He will not be the only gentleman giving chase.”
Lord Cabot looked at his friend critically. “And you, Ashworth? Shall you give chase?”
“Certainly not,” Lord Ashworth said firmly. “I have no intention of even considering marriage for another two years. At that time, I will consider my options. But even then, I will not tie myself to a lady who is…”
Lord Cabot suppressed his laughter. “Who is what?” he asked. “Certainly, there is nothing against the lady but her skill at cards.”
Marty Destin set two coffees in front of them and then disappeared to the back of the house. It was one of his skills to be as unobtrusive as possible and seem as if he’d heard nothing.
Hayes toyed with his spoon. Though he had come to admire Miss Farnsworth, he found he did not like to admit it. Not to himself or anybody else. “I simply find that the lady is too out of the ordinary,” he said. “I do not like to think of a future duchess gambling like a card sharp. After all, how much time must she have spent perfecting the skill? I have to assume that the development of more feminine arts was cast aside in pursuit of it.”
Hayes forced himself to stop talking. He sounded ridiculous. Since when had he come up with a list of attributes for a duchess? He was perfectly well aware that he’d run on in such an absurd fashion because he could not precisely explain what his true feelings were in regard to Miss Farnsworth. He could only be certain that he did not look with favor upon Grayson turning his eye toward the lady.
“Ah,” Lord Cabot said. “I had not known you were so interested in a lady’s skill at sewing, or drawing, or painting fire screens, or whatever else they get up to. Do not allow Miss Darlington to hear of such opinions, I believe she has thrown over all of those pursuits for her horses.”
Hayes waved his hand. “Miss Darlington is her own case, she is the daughter of Lord Mendbridge. I do not see how she would be anything other than what she is. You see, that is the difference.”
That his friend Cabot failed to see the difference was all too apparent. Hayes focused on his coffee and changed the subject to Cabot’s own horses. If there was one thing Cabot could be depended upon to expound on endlessly, it was his horses, other people’s horses, horses he’d seen in the park, and horses he intended to breed someday.
*
Lady Carradine watchedin some trepidation as Mr. Shine laid in new packs of cards in the parlor. She still had quite a good stock of packs, bought from a reputable printer, and had seen no reason why new packs must be employed. Further, though the design was the same, she did not know the printing house. She’d examined them closely, wishing to be certain they were unmarked, and had been satisfied on that front. That left her to conclude he’d got them on the cheap, and that did not suit. Her club was appreciated for its quiet elegance. She did not think it would do her reputation much good if the new cards turned out to be less than well made. Cheap cards did not hold up well and players noticed when they held something flimsy in their hands.
“I really do not see why you must upend everything you look at,” Lady Carradine said.
Mr. Shine turned to her and said, “Nancy, you have been only muddling along. If I am to make my fortune, changes must be made. You spend too much to account for what comes in.”
“Do not call me that name!” she said in a heated whisper. “A servant might overhear you.”
Mr. Shine chuckled. “But they would not understand what they heard, would they? It is only I that know that you were, and are, a lady’s maid. Though you do a creditable job of pretending otherwise.”
Lady Carradine’s heart sank, as it had so often during these awful weeks.
When Mr. Shine had first arrived with her secret in his pocket, she had thought she might learn to live with her new business partner. After all, what else was she to do and splitting the profits still gave her enough to live on. Over time, though, she’d begun to understand that she was in grave danger.
First, the day she’d been unaccountably ill. She’d risen in good health, but shortly after breakfast a heavy tiredness had stolen over her. She’d gone back to bed and did not awaken until the late afternoon. She’d dressed and fetched her keys from the dresser, suddenly noticing that two seemed a different shade, not as tarnished as they had been. She’d made her way downstairs and looked at the locks around the house. All seemed as it should, until she noticed a small shaving of wood on the floor outside the bank room and felt wet paint around the locks on the front doors. She was certain Mr. Shine had drugged her so he might have the locks changed at his leisure. He had his own keys.
Her senses had been heightened since then and she did all she could to watch his every move. He seemed always to be looking about the house, though she did not know what he was looking for. He seemed always to be staring at her when he thought she would not note it.
