Simon could only roll his eyes. Mackerel roe indeed!
*
“What am I do to all evening? Are you sure I cannot come?”
When Simon’s friend Lord Cambrey laughed at her question, Jenny wanted to throttle him, even if she had only recently met him. He was almost as handsome as her husband, had a quick wit, an air of amused ennui, and very intense eyes that made her think there was more to him than he let on.
Simon took her hand, wresting her attention from his friend.
“No women at the clubs, my love, as you know. At least, not ladies. However, I won’t be long. I plan to find this gambler and let him know the jig is up. Then I’ll see if I can speak to Crockford. I’m sure when he hears no more Devere debt will be created in his establishment, he’ll agree to speak with me.”
“And Lord Cambrey will attend you.” She nodded toward her husband’s friend.
Simon grinned. “He shall watch over me as if I were his own babe.”
Cambrey put his hands over his heart. “I swear I will.”
They were making fun of her. That was fine, as long as her husband stayed safe. She was faced with a long boring evening. But she had been lucky to spend two glorious days with Simon in London. They’d done silly things, like going to the circus at Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre and attending the rather garish and loud Bartholomew Fair, where they’d watched wire-walkers, acrobats, and fire-eaters. It had been most thrilling.
Tonight, she’d had the pleasure of entertaining as a new bride in the parlor until supper. Then over a meal of roast grouse and peas with a delicious minted vinegar sauce, Lord Cambrey had them all laughing with tales of his and Simon’s time at school.
Now the men were heading out again, leaving her stuck with a library book. She had no one to go anywhere with besides her husband.
Poor planning! She should have brought Maggie for company, at least.
“Very well. I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
True to his word, Simon was back within a few hours. Jenny had already decided to make use of the townhouse’s luxurious facilities and had enjoyed a deep, soaking bath in his absence. Warm and relaxed, she was drinking port—feeling very grown up—when her husband swept into the house in better spirits than when he’d left.
Pouring himself a drink, he joined her on the sofa.
“I like this robe,” he told her.
She smiled. “I know.” A deep purple velvet, finely woven, it clung sinfully to all her curves.
Touching his fingers to the opening, he started to tug on it.
“I like it best when it’s on the floor or draped across a chair, not covering your body.” He leaned toward her to nuzzle her neck.
She giggled. “You’re tickling me.”
“I will happily tickle you everywhere. Shall we go upstairs?”
“In a minute,” Jenny insisted. “Tell me what happened. Did you find the man you were looking for?”
“I did.” He paused and swirled the liquor in his glass.
“Are you going to make me drag each tidbit of information from you?”
“No, but I’m not sure how you’ll take what I have to tell you, thus I think I’d rather wait until morning.”
Alarm raced through her, making her sit up straight and offer him a hard stare. “Now you must tell me. For I could never sleep with wondering.”
Sighing, he set his port down and then took her glass and put it beside his own. Holding both her hands in his, he looked her in the eyes.
“It’s no secret I think you’re marvelous and brilliant.”
“Simon—”
“Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to tell you that first and foremost.”
“Very well. Carry on.”
“Cam and I found the man who gambles in my uncle’s stead easily enough, right at a high-stakes table. He was playing deep, as they say.”
She frowned.
“Betting heavily,” he clarified. “With Devere money.”
“Outrageous!”
“Yes. But how to put an end to this? He was surprised to see me but insisted he had done nothing wrong. He enjoys playing, and he’s got a plum position doing it.”
“What manner of man is he?”
“Harmless enough. About my age, I suppose. Looked oddly familiar though I swear I’ve never set eyes upon him in my life, though Cam thinks he may have been at school with us. Whoever he is, he fell into the right puddle.”
“And how will you mop up this puddle and dry up his endless supply of gambling funds?”
“I told him it was going to stop, and he laughed. He said it wasn’t up to me or to him.”
“Then to whom?”
“The man to whom my uncle first got terribly indebted.”
“And who is that?”
“The Fishmonger himself.”
“Fishmonger?”
“Will Crockford was born to a fishmonger and destined to become one, except he didn’t. Instead, he’s one of the most powerful men in London. Unfortunately, he’s also commonly called ‘the Shark,’ for good reason. Apparently, we Deveres helped build his gambling establishment, or at least our money did. And quite a nice place it is, too.”
Simon released her hands and picked up his drink once more.
“Crockford’s is every gaming man’s fantasy. Luxurious, respectable, right on St. James Square, a liveried servant at hand every time you turn around. And a roomful of bored, wealthy young men who don’t mind being pigeons.”
“Pigeons?”
“Mm, easy marks for Crocky and his staff.”
“Well, I don’t care how nice it is. What are you going to do? Meet with this Shark person?”
“Oh, I’ll be right there,” he said fixing her with an intense stare, “beside you.”
She nodded, and then Simon’s words filtered through her brain. “Beside me?”
“Yes, dear one, beside the finest brain I know for handling numbers. That’s really all it takes to win at cards. That and some luck.”
Jenny opened her mouth, then shut it again. Then she picked up her glass and sipped her port before trying again. No, she still had no words to describe how petrified she felt or explain to him how she could not possibly do such a thing. Not even to save his family’s fortune. For one thing, she couldn’t go into a gaming establishment, for another, she was terrified of anyone called Shark, and lastly, most importantly, what if she lost and let Simon down.
“I know your head is probably swirling with thoughts,” he said. “I also know you can do this. And right here, in our own home. I have invited Crocky here and he has accepted.”
Suddenly, she couldn’t take a deep breath. That usually only happened when her corset was laced too tightly. She also found herself unable to speak, not wanting to disappoint her husband who’d put his faith in her. Why, she had demanded to go with him to London to face whatever foe was draining the Devere coffers. Apparently, face him she would.
“Please say something, Jenny. I’m starting to fear I’ve sent you into a state of severe stupor.”
She shook her head slightly to clear it.
“I know nothing about gambling except my father was terrible at it. If I have inherited his skills, we shall be lost.”
“You have your own unique skills. You and Crocky will play a hand of piquet, all or nothing.”
“That sounds ominous. In any case, if I am counting cards, there won’t be much to count if we only play one hand. Secondly, what is ‘the all’ and what is ‘the nothing’?”
Simon laughed. “You must score at least 100 points to win, and you have six hands in which to do it. And ‘the all’ is if you win, Crocky will accept it as debt paid and done on my uncle’s behalf. If you lose, I will pay him the rest of the debt, including the interest, by selling off whatever I need to. In any case, there will be no more gambling on my uncle’s behalf.”
“You’ve cut him off and Mr. Crockford accepts it?”
“I hav
e.” Crossing his arms, Simon looked quite forbidding for a moment, every muscled pound of him the commanding earl who would take care of his estate and his tenants.
She considered it. “Either way, the drain will stop against your accounts?”
“Either way, this farce ends.”
That made her feel better. However, the stakes were still extremely high. The Devere coffers would feel the blow of such a huge sum being paid out to the Shark all at once. Servants could lose their jobs, as Simon had said, and holdings might have to be sold. She swallowed.
“When is he coming?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Alarm skittered through her. “I must learn to play cards by then?”
“Only one partie. I’ll teach you.” He leaned forward and took the glass from her hand, setting it down. “But not tonight. There are other things I would much rather teach you tonight.”
She started to shake her head, thinking it impossible to focus on anything besides her anxiousness, when his warm hand rested upon her cheek, turning her face to his. Blinking, Jenny waited as his mouth claimed hers. As they kissed, her insides melted along with her worries. This man had gone through hell and returned. Amazingly, he was still generous and warm and loving. He was gifting her sisters with a Season each. She would repay him by trying her best to beat the Shark. However, she wouldn’t think about any of that now.
As she opened her mouth to let his devilish tongue slip between her lips, she vowed that tonight, she would concentrate only on being his willing pupil.
Awakening in the strange bedroom of their townhouse, as usual, she found her husband gone. Simon had slipped from their bed to sleep elsewhere, just as he did at home. Feeling helpless to alter their predicament, Jenny decided instead to focus on learning the card game.
*
When the valet showed Will Crockford into the drawing room, Jenny wished they’d brought the admiral with them instead of leaving him to look after Belton. The Shark was dressed to impress and could easily pass as a respectable business man. What alarmed her was he brought a large, rough-looking individual with him, a man who dwarfed their spindly young valet, sporting a nose that looked as if he’d been at the wrong end of a pugilist’s fist more than once.
Instead of announcing their guests, their valet was trailing along behind, belatedly stammering their arrival.
With good forethought, Simon had invited his friend Lord Cambrey to attend. With her husband and his friend, Jenny felt perfectly safe despite the unsavory company who now stood in her drawing room.
The Earl of Lindsey made introductions of his wife and his friend, to which the Shark said, “A pleasure, a pleasure.”
Glancing at his own man, he said only, “This is Busby.”
At that point, Simon made it known it was Jenny who would play against Crocky.
The thin veneer of civility cracked for a moment, as Will Crockford’s eyes bulged. He took a second look at the young wife of the earl, tilting his head and considering her.
“Is this a jest?” he asked.
“No,” Simon responded at once. “My wife will play against you. First to reach one hundred and over.”
Jenny remained silent as her husband had advised, holding her tongue to be a woman of mystery who may or may not be adept at cards. Let the Shark wonder what he was in for.
The man sighed. “I warn you, Lindsey. I can spot a cheat a mile away, and Lady Lindsey’s pretty face won’t distract me much.”
Jenny felt her cheeks color at the backhanded compliment, but still said nothing, merely letting Simon pull out her chair as she and Crocky took seats at the table. The others remained standing. Neither the coarse Busby nor her husband or Lord Cambrey were going to relax for fear of missing a single movement of the hand and card.
If only she could calm the butterflies that fluttered against her rib cage. She glanced at Simon, who gave her an encouraging smile, then a wry tilt of his eyebrow. Look at the situation we are in. Smiling back, she felt calmer.
Will Crockford produced a deck he declared to be a piquet deck, already sorted to have only thirty-two cards. It took another few minutes for Simon and Cambrey to examine the deck to their satisfaction. It appeared unmarked.
Acting the gentleman, Crocky offered to deal the first hand to show her how to do it properly.
Before she could accept, Simon coughed, and she remembered what he’d told her.
“Mr. Crockford, as you are aware, the dealer on the sixth hand is at a disadvantage, therefore, I would like to deal first. Shall we cut to decide? High card chooses.”
To her delight, Jenny drew the high card and dealt them each twelve cards. When she held the cards for the first time, a shot of disbelief nearly caused her to drop them upon the polished wooden table in front of her.
What on earth was she doing?
However, when the Shark made a clucking confident sound, she stiffened. There was luck involved, but there was also skill, and these were simply numbers, which had always been her faithful friends.
When after examining their hands, neither of them declared carte blanche, they settled in to play. As dealer, Jenny had the younger hand, and Crocky got to exchange first. He lay only three cards face down, withdrew an equal number from the talon of eight cards, and then, as his right, got to look at two more. Flustered, Jenny exchanged for all five left in the talon, even knowing the Shark had seen two of them.
For the first round, she could scarcely blink for fear of missing something, but then her brain took over as she counted what she saw and guessed what was to come and calculated the odds, and then … Crocky won, declaring his points, sequence, and set, each with a triumphant grin.
Jenny had to say “good” for each, meaning she could not best him in any of the three categories.
How quickly her luck had turned from winning the deal to losing the round. Glancing at Simon, fearing she’d see disappointment on his face, she saw instead an encouraging smile.
She would do better. She had to. For at this rate, Crocky would reach thirty points before she scored. If he received the repique of sixty points, the Deveres would assuredly lose.
The Shark dealt the next hand, and Jenny spent more time considering what she would exchange. Paying more attention, she realized she knew nearly every card Crocky had by what she had and what she’d seen in the talon. She had a better set and sequence, played her tricks, and won the cards in the next round for an extra ten points.
Crocky looked impressed but unbothered.
“Have you played before?” he asked her, as she shuffled the pile of cards.
“No,” she said honestly.
“I see.” He turned to Simon. “Will there be refreshments? I can’t say much for your hospitality.”
Instead of being offended, her husband only laughed. “I don’t think you’ll be here that long. Besides, you’ve had plenty to eat and drink on Devere money, haven’t you?”
Crocky’s mouth turned up on one side in a slight grin. “I suppose I have. Still, some brandy or even ale would be appreciated.”
“I can provide you something one last time,” Simon agreed and rang the bell.
In a few minutes, they all had a glass either set before them or in hand. Jenny didn’t touch her drink. She found the pause in their play to be disconcerting enough, never mind tainting her clear thoughts with brandy.
Taking a long draught from his glass, Crocky smiled at her and nodded to continue. If he thought to make her forget anything she’d seen and counted, he had failed. The next hand she took easily, out playing him in two of the three categories again, and won all twelve tricks for forty more points. Her score was mounting quickly toward one hundred.
They were at two to one, and she was feeling hopeful. And then he set down his hand, all twelve cards, face down, shooting her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Are you declaring?” she asked.
“Perhaps.”
“What are you playing at?” Simon asked
, taking a step toward the table, which caused the silent Busby to do the same.
“Ease up, gentlemen,” the Shark said. “I merely thought to make this more interesting. Odds are my hand wins and we’re practically tied for points.”
“Or it doesn’t,” Simon proposed, “and you’ve lost.”
“Do you think I’ve won?” Crocky asked Jenny directly.
A glimmer of doubt snaked through her brain. It was possible he had received the six and eight of hearts. It was also possible he was bluffing.
“I believe if you had the best hand, you would play it. You have nothing to gain by changing the terms if you think you have the winning cards.”
Will Crockford blinked, and she assumed she was correct. But then his expression changed.
“To the contrary, Lady Lindsey. I don’t want to be tied and have to go through another two hands now that I see you have some skill. I’d rather end this with the stakes riding on a single card. We can ignore what’s here in my hand,” he offered, tapping the top of his stack, “and we can each draw one card, highest wins.”
“You agreed to the terms,” Simon pointed out.
What’s more, Jenny could only exert what little skill she had if she could count cards and play cleverly. She could do nothing if they were relying on fickle fortune.
“I do not agree to a change in terms,” she said. “Make your declarations, win or lose, and we play on to the end.”
“Very well, I tried to give you a sporting chance.”
He showed his hand, declaring his carte blanche first for an extra ten points and then his tricks. To Jenny’s dismay, Crocky had indeed won the round though not all the tricks. Still, she heard a groan from Lord Cambrey, which didn’t help her mood.
Was she going to fail at helping her new husband save his estate?
A spark of anger burned deep within her. Gambling had destroyed her father and, by association, had greatly injured her mother and sisters. The consequences of whatever happened here could affect many people who depended upon the Devere estate.
Staring at the fickle cards, all of a sudden, Jenny realized Crocky had cheated. There was a card on the table that shouldn’t be there for it was already in the talon. She was certain of it.
Beastly Lords Collection Page 27