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Nash settled back in his chair but refused to show his cards. “I’m afraid the stickpin in my cravat holds the only diamond on my person, sir.”
Lady Miranda attempted to diffuse the situation. “From my tally, that gives us five points, Lord Nash. Perhaps show him your cards, so we may be done with this unpleasantness.”
Nash shrugged and laid his cards out for all to see. True to his word, the only remaining cards in his hand were spades and hearts.
“I don’t believe it. Check his coat sleeves,” Middlebury blustered.
Nash responded with a laugh. “You give me more credit than I’m due. Now stop being a poor loser and apologize for insulting me with your accusations.”
Middlebury rose, his chair scraping across the stone floor of the solar with a painful screech, sending a shiver up Priscilla’s arms and spine. He bowed to Lady Charlotte, then stomped from the room.
“Oh, dear.” Honoria rose from her seat. “I apologize for Lord Middlebury’s hasty departure. Since that leaves us with uneven pairs, as the hostess, I will sit out. But we will still be short two players.”
“Perhaps a footman could take Lord Middlebury’s place?” Priscilla suggested.
Lord Felix glared down his long nose at Priscilla, his eyebrows arching. “A footman? You can’t be serious? I refuse to play at a table with a servant!”
Regret surged through Priscilla, and she wished she could retract her words. It was one thing to have a footman or her lady’s maid sit in for a round of cards while she was in the country with so few visitors, and quite another when in the height of London’s society.
“I think that is an excellent idea,” Lady Honoria said, although her tremulous voice hinted she wasn’t entirely convinced of her statement.
“Hear, hear,” Timothy said.
Tears pricked the corners of Priscilla’s eyes that she had made such kind friends in Lady Honoria and Timothy Marbry. She even felt contrition for lobbing a boot at Timothy’s head. Catching Honoria’s eye, she whispered, “Thank you.”
During her childhood, Priscilla had few friends, even those of the feminine variety. And when she’d grown older, her mother had even discouraged her from associating with too many other young ladies. “They are your competition, my dear. If you are to develop a relationship, let your goal be to learn their weaknesses rather than support their strengths.”
She’d doubted the wisdom of her mother’s words then, but as a dutiful daughter, she’d followed them. Now, sadness seeped through her soul at the happiness she’d missed by not having a female confidant, one to share her joys and troubles. At that very moment, she vowed to do everything in her power to befriend Lady Honoria, even if it meant enduring the pain of seeing her new friend form an attachment with the one man who made Priscilla’s heart skip a beat.
* * *
Timothy developeda new respect for Priscilla. He would never have imagined the hellion who complained so vehemently about assisting him with his boot would suggest a servant take the place of an aristocrat in a game of cards. Perhaps catching chickens and tending to an ill stranger had given her a new perspective as well.
With a willing footman taking Lord Middlebury’s spot, Honoria assigned the new partners and tables. She paired Timothy with Lady Miranda at a table with Priscilla’s father, Lord Cartwright, and the duchess. Miranda proved a worthy teammate, as Timothy knew she would. With Laurence as her brother, she would have learned the art of strategy with cards at an early age. She appeared especially adept at taking a trick when least expected.
“Did Montgomery teach you that move?” Timothy asked when she trumped with a three of spades, taking the final trick.
A tiny smirk crossed her lips. “Not that one.”
“Maybe Middlebury should have kept his eye on you instead of Nash,” Timothy said.
Lord Cartwright chuckled, shuffling the deck. He dealt the next hand, turning up a three of hearts for the trump suit. “It’s a good thing White’s doesn’t allow women.”
When Miranda raised her brows, he said, “A compliment, my dear. You would fleece us all.”
Timothy led the first trick with an eight of clubs.
Her Grace frowned at her cards. “How are you enjoying your position at the clinic?” She laid down a ten of clubs.
Timothy glanced up at Miranda, who gave him an infinitesimal smile, then laid down the jack of clubs.
“I’m finding it most rewarding. The patients appreciate everything we do for them. It’s exhausting but exhilarating at the same time, if that makes any sense.”
The duchess’s laugh, like bells, chimed next to him. “That’s what Harry says. Although he always seems to have enough energy to bounce little Edmund on his knee when he returns home at the end of the day.”
It was something to be admired for certain. He hoped he would be as successful at juggling all his duties when the time came for him to start his own family.
Lord Cartwright played a queen of clubs, taking the trick. “I saved us, Your Grace.”
