Lady Amelia's Mess and a Half

by Grace, Samantha

  What is taking so bloody long?

  His foot tapped an erratic rhythm as he waited.

  And waited.

  As Jake prepared to hammer on the door, the lock clicked and it drifted open.

  The butler’s craggy visage greeted him, stern and annoyed. He lifted his nose and sniffed. “Mr. Hillary.”

  His derision fanned Jake’s irritation. “I would like an audience with Lady Audley.”

  Bradford didn’t move aside to allow him access. “I am afraid that is impossible. Good day, sir.”

  Hellfire and damnation! Who was the butler to decide if Amelia would see Jake or not? “Now see here.” Jake stepped forward, sending Bradford scurrying behind the door as if to throw his slight weight against it. “First you must take my card to my betrothed before turning me away. I’ll wait in the drawing room.”

  Bradford’s eyes rounded and his fingers gripped the door’s edge. “Sir, her ladyship is not in residence. I cannot present your card.”

  Jake scowled. Amelia wasn’t one to play coquettish games. She must truly be out this afternoon. “Very well, but when Lady Audley returns, inform her I wish to speak with her.”

  Bradford nodded, wary relief showing in his eyes. “As you wish, Mr. Hillary.” When Jake stepped back, the man seized the opportunity to slam the door in his face.

  He growled in frustration. Bradford deserved a thorough thrashing. Thumping his fist against the door once, Jake spun on his heel and returned to the sidewalk.

  What now?

  He checked his watch. His brother-in-law was meeting him at Brook’s in an hour. He supposed he could arrive early and have a brandy. He needed one with the week he was having.

  But after tonight, things would turn around for the better, and he had his sister’s husband to thank. Forest had been a first-rate scoundrel prior to his marriage to Lana, and while he had abandoned all forms of depravity in favor of Jake’s sister, he retained his sly charm. The man was undoubtedly an asset when it came to duping another.

  Earlier this morning, Jake and Forest had reviewed the plan they had set into motion several days ago. A scheme that would have Sir Davenport giddy with his desire to support the foundling house renovation, as it would be the lesser of two evils. Forest had flashed a downright wicked smile when he had made that pronouncement, and Jake hadn’t questioned his assertion. He figured Forest knew all about the evils that could befall a man.

  Jake shook his head. He almost pitied Sir Davenport. It was a shame what became of henpecked gents, but in this instance, Lady Davenport’s tyranny gave Jake an edge, and he would show no mercy at the gaming tables tonight.

  But first, he had an argument to stage with Forest.

  ***

  Jasper wanted nothing more than to wallow in bed all night with the charming Bianca Kennell, but duty beckoned. His close confidant was calling in a favor. Jasper owed Forest for forgiving his gambling debts a time or two over the years, though his friend had lost to him on occasion as well. They mostly considered themselves even, except when Forest required a favor, which was less often now that he had married a certain spirited redhead.

  “Come back to bed,” Bianca cooed, teasing Jasper when she knew he couldn’t comply. Wrapped up in the tangled sheets, her eyelids drifted at half-mast and her black curls lay in disarray against the brilliant white pillow.

  A rush of affection flooded through him, and he leaned to kiss the tip of her turned-up nose. “You are temptation incarnate.”

  His Bianca proved every bit as lively as Forest’s wife was reputed to be. Perhaps that was the secret to a successful union: marry a peppery chit. A smile spread across his lips. Bianca Hainsworth, Lady Norwick. He liked the ring of it.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “You please me, B.” He kissed her once more then straightened to adjust his waistcoat. Any more lip sampling and he would be back in bed. Then he’d have the devil to pay. “I must go. I promised to meet Forest and Sir Davenport for a rousing game of loo.”

  Bianca scrambled to a seated position, holding the sheet against her chest in a rare display of modesty. Her dark eyes clouded over. “Are you well acquainted with Sir Davenport?”

  “I’ve never cared much for the man.” Jasper curled his top lip as he shrugged on his jacket. “Gads. Davenport allows his wife to lead him around by the nose. Can’t stomach a gent with no courage to stand up for—”

  He slanted a look at Bianca, heat creeping up his neck and spreading to the tips of his ears. He had allowed his sister to dominate him at one time. That seemed even more pathetic than tolerating a wife’s browbeating. Bianca was courteous enough not to mention Fiona. In fact, her thoughts seemed to travel in another direction. At least he hoped her wrinkled brow and severe frown had nothing to do with him.

  “Did I say something to make you cross, my dear?” he asked.

  “I don’t approve of Sir Davenport. I wish you did not entertain an association with him.”

  Jasper moved back to the bed and perched on the side, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I cannot foresee any further cause for an association beyond tonight. Can you keep a secret?”

  She nodded, her mouth still turned down in displeasure.

  “Jake Hillary has a score to settle with the man, so he called on Forest to assist. I’m afraid it’s a sordid affair, and for that I am sorry, but from all accounts, Davenport deserves any troubles that come his way.”

  Her frown lines softened and she reached for his hand. A feathery sigh passed through her lips. “Mr. Hillary loves my Amelia so very much, does he not?”

  Jasper squeezed her hand. “I suppose he does.”

  He wanted to tell Bianca he was falling in love with her as well, but the words faded to nothingness before he could speak. She had made him promise to want nothing more from her than physical affection. He had thought it an easy promise to keep at the time.

  “I suspected you might have knowledge of Davenport’s interference with Lady Audley’s foundling project,” he said, “but I didn’t want to upset you if you were unaware. You understand, I hope.”

  “Of course.” She released his hand and crossed her arms. “Do his accusations trouble you? I admit I cannot boast a sterling reputation, but I would never attempt to corrupt children.”

  “His accusations?”

  “Blast,” she muttered, unnecessarily smoothing the wrinkles in the sheets. “I spoke too quickly.”

  He scowled. “Perhaps you did, but I’m bothered that you would keep something from me. What did Davenport say, and what do you have to do with the halt in the renovation?”

  She slapped her hands against the bed, her eyes flaring. “I have nothing to do with anything. He is the cause of the project’s troubles. I made a donation for the children and wished to remain anonymous, but Sir Davenport learned of my involvement.”

  Unease rippled through him, raising goose bumps along his skin. “How did he learn of your involvement?”

  “How should I know? I’ve barely spoken more than a word to the gentleman in all the time I have been in society. Yet, he has it on good authority that I am a wicked, wicked woman set on corrupting the children at the foundling house. It’s ridiculous, really. Hardly a matter deserving my attention. I told Amelia to do as he demands, give me the cut direct in public, and move forward with the renovation, but she is steadfastly stubborn on the matter.”

  Jasper’s mouth pinched as a slow stream of breath flared his nostrils. Fiona. His sister knew of Bianca’s involvement in the project. She boasted an intimate association with Lady Davenport. And she despised Bianca with a vigor that defied reason.

  “This is my doing,” he said through gritted teeth. “I shall repair the damage at once, and I will wring Fiona’s skinny neck in the process.”

  “Your sister cannot be responsible. I would never tell her of my donation and neither would Amelia.”

  “But I would. I did.” He clutched his forehead and groaned. “Good Lord, what is Fiona a
bout these days? I don’t recognize her anymore. She has become an unmitigated shrew.”

  Bianca raised her eyebrows as if disputing his claim that his sister had become a shrew, and she was correct. Fiona had been ill-tempered since Father refused to pay Banner her dowry or acknowledge her any longer. But Jasper had made amends once he had inherited, which should have smoothed her ruffled feathers.

  “I’ve had enough of Fiona’s foolishness,” he said and rose from the bed. “I’m getting to the bottom of her animosity toward you at once.”

  “No!” Bianca clambered from the bed, tripping when the sheet caught her foot.

  Jasper caught her around the waist. “Gads, woman. Don’t break your neck.”

  “Please, don’t go to your sister. I’m untroubled by her and you should be too.”

  He set Bianca away from him, dread churning in his guts. “B, why do you tolerate her mistreatment?”

  Reaching for a curl, she tugged and twirled it around her finger. “Lady Banner is of no consequence.” She almost sounded nonchalant, but her voice broke and gave her away. “Please, don’t waste your time speaking to her on my behalf. I care not if she holds an unfavorable opinion of me.”

  Jasper studied her. He had heard the rumors about Bianca and Lord Banner, but he knew his brother-in-law well. The man couldn’t be trusted to speak an honest word about anything. And his claims that Lady Kennell welcomed him in her bed had rung false. The beauty would never accept the likes of Banner, or so Jasper had thought. But she had become his lover, and he had no more to recommend him than the baron.

  “Is it true about you and Lord Banner?”

  She released her curl and faced him squarely. “Good Lord! Have you lost your mind? I wouldn’t have the revolting mongrel if he was the last man on earth.” She spit out the words with vehemence, convincing beyond question.

  A flood of relief rushed through his body and released him from his torturous imaginings. He held out his arms. “Come here, darling. I apologize for being an unpardonable fool.”

  She hesitated before capitulating, but once she was in his arms, she melted against him. “You are not unpardonable,” she mumbled into his waistcoat.

  He chuckled and drew her closer. “Just a fool then?”

  She tipped her head up to gaze at him with unfathomable cocoa eyes. “I shouldn’t like to argue with you any further, my lord. I concede you’re a fool if you say as much.”

  “There is my submissive little lover.”

  Jasper grunted when he received a playful blow to his ribs.

  Nineteen

  Sir Davenport grinned at Jake. “I suspect you and Lord Andrew have a score to settle after the row I heard about at Brook’s.”

  Jake shrugged and settled back in the crimson cushioned chair, ready to get on with matters.

  “If you choose firearms, Lord Andrew will come out the victor,” Davenport said, nodding to Forest on his left. “You, Mr. Hillary, excel at fisticuffs, and you are equally matched at blades.”

  Norwick, seated across from Davenport, sniggered. “They both swing their blades like ladies.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with my blade.” Jake glared at the earl, playing his role admirably.

  Davenport laughed and showed off brown teeth chipped away by age. “True gentlemen allow the cards to settle their differences.”

  A waiter entered with a tray of tumblers and a decanter.

  Davenport turned in his seat. “You may pour a brandy for my companions then leave the decanter on the sideboard.”

  Forest picked up the deck sitting between him, and Davenport then absently flipped through the cards. Pushing the deck toward their host, Forest touched his eyebrow to signal to Jake that it was indeed marked.

  Forest had been playing cards with Davenport and his marked deck in his private card room at The Den of Iniquity for the past three nights. Jake’s brother-in-law had made it clear earlier that he expected to recover his losses tonight. Playing the flat didn’t sit well with a gent accustomed to winning.

  Fortunately, the odds were in their favor three to one. He, Norwick, and Forest would split the pot at the end of the night. But first they must play with an honest deck.

  Davenport shuffled the cards. “Shall we play loo, gentlemen?” Without waiting for consent, he began stacking chips and pushing them to each player. “Thirty chips worth twenty pounds apiece. Or is that too rich for your tastes, Mr. Hillary?”

  Jake picked up the stack and tested its weight in his palm. “Make it one hundred pounds a chip and you’ve sparked my interest.”

  Davenport’s eyes lit like a child’s in a sweet shop. “One hundred it is.” He glanced at Forest and Norwick. “Gentlemen?”

  An insolent smile spread across Forest’s face. “I’ll gladly pay such a steep price to see Mr. Hillary weep like a baby.”

  The smug lift of one corner of Davenport’s mouth indicated he expected victory. “Lord Norwick, are you in?”

  “Nothing would bring me more pleasure, sir.”

  The earl’s cold stare seemed lost on Davenport. “Splendid.”

  They cut to see who would act as the first dealer. Davenport naturally had the lowest card and earned the honor. “Ante in, gentlemen.”

  Jake tossed three chips in the middle as did everyone else.

  Davenport flicked the cards around the circle with speed and efficiency then turned over the trump card. “Spades it is.”

  Jake fanned out his cards. Nothing but red. And his highest card was a ten.

  “I’ll play,” Forest said and tossed two more chips into the pot.

  “Not me.” Norwick laid his cards face down on the table. “I fold.”

  Jake matched Forest’s two hundred pounds and tossed his cards toward Davenport. “Give me a new hand.” His new cards were just as useless.

  Davenport won two thirds of the pot. Play continued with Davenport taking the majority of the stake the first hour. If one had no knowledge of his cheating, one might be impressed with his intuition. Davenport knew exactly when to fold and when to press the bet.

  “Gentlemen, it appears my good fortune is holding out,” he said as he raked his winning chips from the middle.

  Forest drummed his fingers against the table before snatching up the deck and shuffling. This was Jake’s cue to change the game’s course.

  Pulling at his cravat, Jake bolted from his seat. “I need another drink.” At the sideboard, he looked back over his shoulder. “Would anyone else care for a refill?”

  Forest lifted his empty glass in salute.

  Jake left the crystal bottle stopper lying on the sideboard and carried the open decanter back to the table. As he neared, he pretended to trip on Davenport’s chair leg then unintentionally rammed against the table, losing control of his actions. The brandy sloshed from the decanter, splattered all over the cards, and doused Forest. Jake pressed his lips together to stop the burst of laughter bubbling up in his chest.

  “Hell’s teeth!” Forest leapt from his chair and ripped a handkerchief from his jacket to blot at the spirits soaking into his waistcoat. “You bloody idiot. Your sister will think I’m foxed.”

  Sir Davenport slammed his fist against the table. “Forget about your wife. Look at my cards. They’re ruined.”

  “No need to go into hysterics,” Norwick said as he reached inside his jacket. “I carry a deck on my person.”

  Davenport’s eyes narrowed when the earl slapped down the deck. “If it’s all the same to you, I will call for another from the house.”

  “What are you implying?” Norwick leaned forward, his head dropped in challenge. “There’s nothing wrong with my deck. Only cowards cheat.”

  Davenport stiffened, his eyes darting to Forest, Jake, and then the exit.

  Forest clapped a hand on Davenport’s shoulder to push him down in his seat when it appeared he might run. “Davenport’s not a coward or a cheat, Norwick, so let’s continue our game. Pass the deck.” He took the cards from his friend
and held them out to Davenport. “Inspect them to be certain.”

  He accepted the deck with a frown, rifled through the cards, and then passed them back with a shaky hand. “E-everything appears aboveboard.”

  “Grand.” Jake scooped up the soggy cards and carried them back to the sideboard along with the empty decanter.

  When he returned to his place at the table, Forest was dealing the next hand. Jake’s chips made a dull clink against the other chips when he threw his ante on the pile.

  “Queen of hearts,” Forest said when he turned up the top card.

  Jake peered at his hand. He had the ace of hearts, jack of hearts, and a spaded knave. He would at least win a third of the pot this hand.

  Norwick decided to play the cards dealt and raised the bet by three hundred pounds.

  “I’ll see your three hundred and raise another two,” Jake said.

  All of them looked to Davenport. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I-I fold.”

  Playing it safe became Davenport’s strategy, and he folded the next four hands. Hellfire and damnation. They could be here all night chipping away at his winnings.

  Forest pushed away from the table after a fifth round passed with Davenport folding each hand. “Pardon me, gentlemen, I feel the need to stretch. Sir Davenport requires a moment, too.”

  He grabbed the man’s arm and hauled him from the chair. Davenport squealed and scrambled to keep his footing. Huddled in the corner, Forest’s angry whispers carried across the room. “You led me to believe you’re an expert at loo. What are you about?”

  Davenport’s mumbled response was impossible to decipher.

  “Well, get in the game. I want my pound of flesh as promised.”

  When they were seated once again, the game resumed. Jake didn’t bother holding back a grin when he took the entire pot that round.

  Davenport’s play continued to be conservative, and though he won a portion of the round on occasion, his chips dwindled at a faster rate. When he was left with two chips, he picked them up and rubbed them together. “P-perhaps we should end our evening, gentlemen. My coach will be calling in half an hour.”