Page 69 of Debtor’s Daughter

Jenkins stared at the fortune in counters, looking as though he could hardly believe his luck.

“You want Merrivale’s manor?” he said, the relief in his voice audible.

“Said so, didn’t I?” Larkin said impatiently. “Are you taking the wager, or no?”

“I am,” Jenkins said decisively. “Write me out a vowel. I’ll sign it.”

Pip came in at that moment. “Ah, I see things are getting interesting,” he said with a grin. “Mind if I watch?”

Without waiting for an answer, he sat himself down opposite Mr Jenkins, lounging back in his chair beside Jules, both men turning their attention to the perspiring Jenkins as he laid his vowel on top of the vast stack of counters.

“Proceed,” Larkin said to Leo as the cards continued to turn up in his favour, grinning at an increasingly alarmed Jenkins

“Trente à la va!” Larkin said, seeing panic flickering in Jenkin’s eyes. This was the tipping point, Larkin knew. If Jenkins had any sense, he would cut his losses, but no.

“Paix,” Jenkins said, demanding to continue upon the same course.

The silence rang in Larkin’s ears as Leo turned the cards, both Jules and Pip unmoving beside him.

It was Jules who shouted first, a bellow of triumph that made Larkin jump out of his skin, such was his agitation. But there it was, the winning card. His card. He’d done it.

“I want to play again,” Jenkins said, almost breathless, gazing in disbelief as Larkin pulled the counters and the note for Merrivale Manor towards him.

“Sorry, old man,” Larkin said, yawning broadly. “Feeling a trifle bosky, and Jules here forbade me from puking on the cards again. Best call it a night. No hard feelings, eh?”

He got to his feet, allowing Jules to sweep his winnings into his hat. He grinned at his friend, flushed with triumph. “Call me a cab, Jules, there’s a good fellow.”

“You’re a cab,” Jules said, for the Marquess of Blackstone was no one's lackey.

“You’re a damned cheat!”

The words rang out in the room and the silence was absolute as the four men turned to gaze at Jenkins in appalled astonishment. All of them knew Jenkins was a Captain Sharp and, despite Larkin’s ruse, he’d played fair and square, as had everyone else. The only thing they’d done was lose when they needn’t have. If Jenkins hadn’t been so greedy, he might have left with a considerable fortune in his pocket.

“What did you say?” Larkin spoke softly, mingled fury and delight bursting together in his chest. As much as the accusation made him wild with anger, it gave him the opportunity he wanted. He was not about to meet the bastard at some godforsaken hour of the morning and risk his own neck, but he was very certainly going to break his nose.

“Shouldn't have said that, old man,” Leo said, shaking his head sadly. “I should take it back.”

Despite this sensible advice, Jenkins squared his shoulders. “You heard.”

“So I did,” Larkin said mildly, knowing Jenkins thought he’d fall over he was so far gone. Poor fool.

“Come here,” Larkin said. “And say that again.”

Jenkins did so, but before he could say more than ‘You’re—’ Larkin punched him in the guts. Jenkins doubled up but was swift to strike back. The man was faster than Larkin had expected, and the blow knocked him back a pace, but in his darkest days Larkin had gained a fair bit of experience at barroom brawling, so it hardly registered. The fight was swift and vicious, each man delivering a series of violent blows as Larkin’s friends tried to move furniture out of the way with little joy, for the room was not a large one. Jenkins threw a punch that might have broken Larkin’s nose, but he dodged back at the last second, the blow only grazing his cheekbone instead. He retaliated with a right hook that connected with Jenkin’s nose and almost certainly broke it. The blow sent Jenkins windmilling backwards onto the card table. It was a fine, elegant thing, rather old, and could not withstand the assault, for Jenkins was no lightweight. His heavy frame crashed onto the table, and it split in two, with Jenkins landing heavily on the floor, surrounded by splintered wood. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, dazed, but Larkin reached down and grasped hold of his shirt, pulling him back to his feet.

Larkin drew back his fist, but Pip intervened, holding him back.

“Leave off, Lars, the fellow’s done for,” he said, watching as blood dripped steadily from Jenkins’ nose as the man swayed and then fell to his knees, groaning.

Larkin let out a breath, annoyed to be interrupted when he had a good deal left to explain to Mr Jenkins about his personal feelings, but Pip was quite correct. It was done. Jenkins was done, and Larkin had won back the manor for Maggie and Gideon. The truth of that suddenly expanded inside him, joy at the gift he could offer the woman who had come to mean the entire world to him, and the little boy who had wormed his way into his heart and made Larkin love him.

He was suddenly full of gratitude towards Elmira, for being strong enough not to allow him to persuade her into a future that would have been wrong for them both. It seemed so obvious now that he had Maggie and Gideon, and he might have missed out if not for her courage. He'd heard from Thorn, who had written to congratulate him, and told him Elmira was walking out with a gentleman farmer who lived close to Gillmont. He had been kind to the women upon discovering what manner of house it was and had offered his services if ever they were needed. They’d been courting for some months now, and Thorn expected an announcement any day. Larkin had been relieved to discover he felt nothing but happiness for Elmira, who deserved everything good in life, and he hoped she would be as happy as he intended to be.

“Well done,” Leo said, patting him on the back. Larkin grinned at him. “Leave the clearing up to us. We’ll get Jenkins off the premises and escort him home. Don’t worry, we won’t let him out of our sight until we have the deeds to the manor. You’d best get Barnes to find some steak for that eye. It’s going to be a beauty,” he said appreciatively.

Larkin laughed, wincing as he touched a finger to the swelling flesh, realising Leo was quite correct. “Thanks, Leo, and you two as well,” he added, nodding to Jules and Pip. “Once again, I’m in your debt. I owe you, and I shan’t forget it.”

“Stow it,” Jules said with a snort, winking at Larkin before looking down at Jenkins, his lip curling with distaste. “Come along Leo, held me take out the refuse. We don’t want Pip sullying his pretty hands.”

“I should think not,” Pip replied, apparently having no qualms with this observation. “I’m far too high in the instep for such menial labour, but I shall watch with pleasure,” he added, his eyes twinkling.

Laughing, Larkin left them to their bickering. Now it was done he was weary to his bones, his eye, his ribs and his jaw had all begun throbbing in concert, and all he wanted was to have a quiet drink while Barnes attended to his injuries, and then to fall into bed. No, he amended, all he wanted was to see Maggie, to hold her in his arms and explain that everything was going to be all right, but he could not rouse her at this ungodly hour of the morning, and certainly not while he was in this state.

So, with that option out the window, he hailed a cab and made his way home.