Page 34 of The Language of Love

“Swimmin’ in lard, ain’t he—Rotherhithe?” A tall, stringy fellow asked while another gent mixed the cards for a new game.

“You could say that.”

“And you?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s been my experience that only bad things flow downhill.”The men broke into raucous laughter at that.

“What’s this, then? Playing with the help?” The drawling voice came from behind Henry’s shoulder and would have been enough to set his back up even without the words.

“Back for more are you, Bowman?” the oldest man asked, his tone discouraging.

Henry jolted at the name and turned to find a young buck sneering down at him through narrowed eyes. Yes, Henry saw the resemblance between this man and his sisters, especially the one who’d given Henry such a scathing once-over earlier.

“Why not, Kingsley? It seems you’ll let anyone play.” He dropped into a chair two spaces away from Henry, whom he eyed with contempt.

The other players grumbled quietly but made no open remarks.

Over the next half hour, Bowman kept up a stream of insulting comments about how ton standards had lowered, his comments becoming less subtle with each hand he lost.

Henry found the lad amusing. He’d been baited by far cleverer men, and this stripling couldn’t even come close. Especially as he was one hell of a poor card player who had more money than brains. But his incessant talk rattled the other players and, one after another, they drifted away, leaving only Henry and Bowman sitting at the table.

The younger man scraped up the cards from the last hand and tossed them to Henry.

“Maybe now we can play for something other than chicken stakes. I say we switch to piquet. A shilling a point and ten pounds a rubber.”

The last man to leave the table turned back at those words. “I don’t think Her Grace would approve of such a thing, Bowman. This isn’t a gambling hell, you know.”

“Why don’t you run and tell her like a good little boy, Rivers?”

Rivers’ face reddened, and he stalked away without responding.

So, Henry wasn’t the only person the boy talked down to.

Henry stacked the cards neatly and put them aside before standing. He nodded to the three men who’d just left and reformed their group at a nearby table. “It was a pleasure, gentleman,” he said, and then headed toward the door.

“Where are you running off to? Got some boots to shine?”

Henry stopped and turned; the rest of the room had gone quiet.

He looked into the blazing eyes of the boy still slouched at the table. “If it is a game of cards you want, tell me where and when. But I will not insult my hostess by turning her house into a gambling den.”

Bowman pushed to his feet. “I’ll tell you—”

“Ah, Parker, old chap,” a bored voice called from behind Henry. “I hope you haven’t thrown away all your blunt. I wanted to borrow a pony.”

Henry turned to find the Earl of Avington smiling at him.

A few chuckles greeted the earl’s words, and Avington nodded to the other men. “Rivers, Kingsley, good to see you both.” His eyes settled on Bowman, and his smile grew condescending. “Bowman, your Mama has been turning the house upside down searching for you. You’d better run along and see what she wants before she sends your old nurse to fetch you.”

Avington turned back to Henry, seemingly oblivious of Bowman’s hate-filled glare and the snickers his words had triggered. “Come get a drink with me, old chap.”

Henry followed him outside the room. “What a lucky coincidence, my lord—you popping in just then.”

The earl flashed his blinding grin. “Wasn’t it, though?”

“I suppose I should thank you for saving me from doing something foolish.”

“I don’t believe you are capable of stupid behavior, Parker. Unless you meant being late for the supper dance with Annis. I last saw her with that dragon aunt of hers. I’ve snagged Freddie for the waltz, so we’ll save two seats for you at our supper table.” He strode off without waiting for an answer.