“Oh, Aunt,” Lily said. “May I? I am certain he is a great fool who only wishes to brag to his friends that he has defeated me where Lord Ashworth could not. I should very much like to take him down a pegandtake him down a few guineas.”
“I would be pleased to watch over Miss Farnsworth,” Mrs. Melton said. Though, to Lily, her tone sounded more along the lines of—I would be pleased to knock Mr. Gentry about the head if he does the least thing untoward.
“Quite kind, Mrs. Melton,” Mrs. Hemming said, “but I shan’t play whist this evening. I will stay by Lily myself.”
Mrs. Melton nodded, but looked rather dubious. Lily guessed the lady only thought herself a suitable chaperone.
Lady Carradine swept up to their little group. “Mrs. Hemming, Miss Farnsworth, lovely to see you here tonight.”
Mrs. Hemming laid a hand on Lady Carradine’s arm. “Can you tell me of Mr. Gentry and what do you think of him?”
“Oh, he is just there, in the blue coat.”
Lily looked at the gentleman with interest. He was not in the first bloom of youth, though his clothes might beg to differ. He had stuffed himself into far too tight breeches and his neckcloth sought to do battle in height with every young fop in town. Most amusingly, he scanned the room with an ornate quizzing glass, as if he were Brummel, himself.
Lady Carradine followed Lily’s gaze and said, “He’s a fine enough fellow, if somewhat silly. Though, Mrs. Hemming, I am afraid I am almost certain he does not favor whist. If he does, I could not vouch for what sort of partner he’d be.”
“No, Lady Carradine,” Lily said. “I believe he wishes to play against me at piquet, though we have not been introduced. Do you think it should be all right?”
Lady Carradine said, “Certainly. I’ve known Mr. Gentry for quite some time, though he has been out of town for these past two years. He is a bit puffed up for my taste, but I can say he is in no danger of defaulting on you—he always pays his debts.”
Mr. Shine appeared to take this as a ringing endorsement and set out to fetch Mr. Gentry. Mrs. Hemming nodded and said, “I depend upon you, Lady Carradine.”
Mr. Gentry, for his part, seemed nearly overcome as he spoke to Mr. Shine. He hurried over in what Lily could only call mincing steps.
After they had been suitably introduced, and Mr. Gentry had several times said it was an honor, he led Lily to an open table while Mrs. Hemming trailed behind.
As Lily sat down, she noted Lord Ashworth noteher. He quickly averted his eyes, but she smiled to herself. The young gentleman he played picked up the trick and she had a notion that she had momentarily discomposed the great Lord Ashworth.
Mr. Gentry declared he thought they ought to play for fifty pounds. Had Lily not played for such a vast sum at Lady Montague’s, she might have quaked at hearing the number. But then, she’d already had the experience of high play and was less alarmed by it. She also thought she had a very good chance of winning. She usuallydidhave a good chance of winning, and this gentleman did not look to be much of a challenge. If hewerea challenge, he played a very deep game indeed.
She nodded in acquiescence.
Mr. Gentry appeared to consider this a victory of sorts and then foolishly claimed the right to deal. Lily dismissed Lord Ashworth from her thoughts and turned her attention to the play.
As the game went on, Lily became more and more certain that Mr. Gentry was a buffoon. He did not seem to have any kind of strategy, at least not that she could discern. His expressions gave him away at every turn, his squint here and bitten lip there and scrunched up nose toward the end of every play telling the tale well enough. He was like a child denying he’d stolen a cake while his face was covered in crumbs. His hands nearly quaked when he held low cards. She suspected piquet was not even his favored game, but he’d held out some sort of hope that the cards would all go his way and he might squeak out a victory against Miss Farnsworth. It was an entirely ridiculous hope.
Lily might have felt sorry for the gentleman, but he was proving himself to be a terrific braggart. Apparently, he wished her to know of any and all gambling experiences he’d had, where he’d come out on the winning side. She supposed she should be grateful that he confined himself to tales of winning, as she suspected his tales of losing would go on a good deal longer.
“I once won five hundred pounds in one evening at faro,” he said, watching another of his cards slide away from him.
“Course,” he went on, “I am most proud of the night at White’s, when Sir Luther and I partnered at whist and defeated Lord Mallon and Lord Edgewater.” Mr. Gentry looked over her head at some far-off vista, as if he were recalling to mind the scene of his victory. “Tothe tune of four hundred pounds,” he said. “It is recorded. In the book. For posterity.”
“That must have been very gratifying, Mr. Gentry,” Lily said, hardly attending to her own words. Her attention was on her cards. She was, however, forced to admit that Lord Ashworth’s opinion of the gentleman was correct—he was a blowhard who talked far too much. Mrs. Hemming’s rambling speeches had a charm to them. Mr. Gentry’s were simply irritating.
“And then of course,” Mr. Gentry went on, “you have heard the tale of my extraordinary run of luck at White’s hazard table?”
“I am afraid not,” Lily said.
Mr. Gentry looked hopefully at Mrs. Hemming. She shrugged.
“Well, I suppose it is only still spoken of amongst gentlemen,” Mr. Gentry said. “Of course that would be it. I can tell you, it wasquitethe scene. Unforgettable if you ask me.”
Lily laid down her last card. An ace of hearts against Mr. Gentry’s nine of clubs. “That is one hundred points, Mr. Gentry,” Lily said.
Mr. Gentry seemed entirely nonplussed to see that they had reached the end of the game.
Mrs. Hemming stifled a yawn, though she looked pleased that Lily had dispatched Mr. Gentry so handily.
