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Chapter 8
Alice rested backin the large chair which nearly swallowed her up and surveyed the half-empty Greenbulls before her. There weren’t nearly as many gentlemen here today as there had been the past few times she’d come. Still, a few of the men she’d been keeping an eye onwerehere.
There was Lord Sempill and Mr. Wilds, both of whom she’d met since coming to Carlaby. Then there was Lord Gulliver and Mr. Worsley, two of the three gentlemen she’d known from before her marriage to Lord Hoskins.
Currently, the four gentlemen she was secretly keeping watch over were standing in very nearly the four corners of the room. She had to keep her head on a swivel to keep track of them all. They certainly weren’t making this easy for her.
Alice crossed one ankle over her knee. Perhaps she ought to go join one of the men in conversation. Wouldn’t it be better for her to learn, for certain, if one man was worthy of her affection or not, than to sit here all afternoon watching the four men but never learning a substantial thing about any of them?
Yes, sitting here was not going to garner her any insight. She moved to stand, only to hesitate, her gaze on the way her legs were crossed. It was a decidedly masculine act, one she’d practiced at home many times. Body language was as important as her looks and expressions, Mr. Clarke had taught her. Yet, she’d crossed her ankle over her knee this time almost without realizing it.
It was strange, as it was something she never would have done a month ago—something she wasn’t even sure was possible in a long, proper skirt. Alice shook her head and placed both feet on the floor. Acting as a man was starting to get to her, starting to change her.
And she wasn’t sure if it was a good change or not.
Alice strode across the room toward Lord Gulliver, who sat at a table with several other men. They appeared to be engaged in a game of whist. Alice’s stomach eased a bit—at least here was a game she was quite familiar with. She drew nearer as several other gentlemen did the same. There was an atmosphere to the game, a sense of intensity in the way the other onlookers watched each card played.
More men joined the circle, including Mr. Wilds. Alice turned her direction slightly and came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Appears to be an interesting game,” Alice said, careful to keep her voice low.
Mr. Wilds nodded. “Did you hear the stakes?”
Alice shook her head. The motion sent her glasses down her nose ever so slightly. Alice pushed them back into place. If she’d known how tiresome the spectacles would prove to be, she never would have donned them in the first place.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, she supposed so as to not distract the players. “They’ve put five thousand pounds on the line.”
“They what?” Alice couldn’t help the outburst.
Mr. Wilds chuckled and nodded his agreement. “A hefty sum, even for someone like Gulliver.”
Alice’s heart fell. “Does Lord Gulliver play for such high sums often?” The man in question was bent over his hand of cards, his expression one of a man deep in concentration.
“Does Gulliver—?” Mr. Wilds broke off and laughed. “I nearly forgot. You’re new to Carlaby. I’ll give you a bit of a friendly warning. Gulliver playsonlyfor high stakes.”
“Does he normally win?”
Mr. Wilds shrugged. “He claims he does. But between you and me...” Mr. Wilds shook his head.
Well, then, that was all she needed to know. Alice rubbed the top of her father’s walking stick. She had no desire to connect herself with a man who would gamble away everything she owned. Moreover, judging by the way Gulliver’s face was growing red and his eyes were bugging out, he was not going to give up gambling any time soon. He showed all the signs of a man addicted.
“And what about you?” she asked Mr. Wilds. “Will you join them when a seat opens?”
“Oh, no. I prefer to find my entertainment elsewhere.”
Alice wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but a slippery, slithering suspicion ran down her spine. “And what do you prefer?”
A smile crossed Lord Wild’s face, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. He leaned closer toward her, dropping his voice low. “Theshapelykind.” He made an hourglass shape with his hands.
Ah.
Everyone at the card table suddenly cried out—some in cheers, others in dismay. Alice hadn’t seen what happened, but Lord Gulliver’s voice rose above the rest, releasing a long stream of curses aimed at his opponents and a few at his own team member.
Alice chose to use the distraction to make her escape, and she turned and walked away just as one of the other men at the table tossed a card down. She shook her head as she turned her back on Lord Gulliver and Mr. Wilds—two men she most certainly would not be encouraging after today.
Lord Brooks sat in the same chair he’d been in last week when Alice had first visited the club. He had a paper up in front of his face, again, but she got the distinct impression he was aware of her presence all the same.
She opened her mouth to ask how the rest of the dinner party had gone the other evening after she’d left...and only stopped herself barely in time. Lady Nightingale had attended the dinner party, not Mr. Allen.
