Page 89 of The Smuggler’s Escape

As much as she had longed to see Richard before, she dreaded the inevitable conversation now. She must act as if nothing was wrong, while her mind scurried with unrest. The gentlemen came into the drawing room at last, but almost immediately Richard beckoned to Noelle. She had perforce to accompany him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, appalled at how querulous she sounded.

“To get the playing cards,” he said, pulling her into the library. “And a moment alone.”

Before Noelle could get a word out, Richard grabbed her and kissed her senseless. Desperate with sadness and love, she melted into his arms.

“I adore you,” he growled in her ear, and kissed her again. “I want you. Will you have me?”

How could she say yes? She could have him but not keep him. “Oh, Richard,” she whispered. “I love you so much.” That at least was true.

“Good.” He kissed her again, then released her to scoop up several decks of cards from a desk drawer. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Drat, her anxiety must have shown. “Don’t pay any heed to Lady Darsington,” he said. “She’s just making trouble.”

“It’s worse than that,” Noelle said. “Before you arrived, she let fall some information about a government plan to catch a network of spies. Surely that is confidential.”

Richard pondered. “I don’t like her, but I’ve never known her to blab about government secrets.” He shrugged. “She’s not used to Dot’s defiance, so she’s trying anything else she can think of to make me repudiate you. Ignore her.”

Noelle blew out a breath. She’d feared, deep down, that Richard might be affected by Lady Darsington’s insinuations. “Dorothea tried flirting with Johnny Magee, but her mother realized there was no real danger there. I suggested that she flirt with Lord Harry, but she’s reluctant because he’s a rake.”

“I’ll have a talk with him. He’s always up for a lark but won’t do her any harm.” He paused. “I wonder what’s got Lady Ariadne so agitated tonight.”

“She’s probably desperate to play piquet,” Noelle said.

Richard nodded. “Then as a good host, I’ll oblige her.”

Noelle frowned. “But she mustn’t! She’s not allowed to play with anyone but me, with good reason. She’ll never agree to farthing points with you.”

“If she wants to play with me, she’ll have to accept my terms. We’ll play in another room, so no one will know. I refuse to foist her onto you, my love.”

“I’m supposed to play with Lady Darsington,” Noelle said, suddenly remembering. “Unless she has changed her mind, which would be fine with me.”

“No, no, my love,” Richard said. “I shan’t let her do so. I’ll back you at a guinea a point.”

Noelle opened her eyes at this stake. “I’m not that good a player.” Tonight, she doubted she could concentrate well enough to play even a tolerable game.

But Richard bore her inexorably to the drawing room, settled her with Lady Darsington, and set the stakes himself. Her ladyship smugly agreed, and Richard sauntered away.

~ ~ ~

After a couple of games of piquet with Richard, Lady Ariadne Luttrow was almost a hundred guineas down, but flushed with a combination of wine and gambler’s lust. Richard wasn’t a particularly good player—certainly not as intent as Noelle—but besting Lady Ariadne presented no challenge at all.

She chattered incessantly, sure the loss wasn’t her fault, laying the blame on everything from the fall of the cards to Noelle’s inadequate tutoring, and occasionally letting out a faltering query about spies in the area. Richard laughed at her fears, made lighthearted conversation, and did his best to stop thinking about Noelle.

He needn’t worry. He’d got her safely out of the way. She would never back down from the challenge of playing against Lady Darsington. She would try even harder for fear of wasting his money—she’d said as much, which was absurd.

A footman approached, and Richard beckoned him forward.

“Message for Lady Ariadne, my lord.”

Lady Ariadne started and dropped her cards. “Message? What message?”

The footman bowed. “Your groom, Jackson, is here with the item you requested.”

“Item?” She shook her head as if dazed. “Oh, yes. The pattern! Where is he?” She stood. “I must go get it. For—For Lady Boltwood, you know.”

No dedicated gambler would drop her cards and run off to fetch a pattern for a reticule. Unless, of course, she found herself with her back to the wall in more ways than one.