“I’m sure you are not. Also, I need not tell you that the fair Cyprians are to be avoided.”
Arthur’s eyes widened as he watched a man approach one of the women and speak a few words to her. She smiled and nodded, and the man’s hand went from his pocket to her palm. With a sharp glance at them, she slipped the coins into her reticule and then took the man’s arm with a smile. They mounted the stairs to the upper floor together.
With a promise to keep his wits about him, Arthur eagerly joined in the play. Malcolm signaled to a waiter to bring a bottle of burgundy as Stephen stepped up to his side.
“A pleasant enough house,” he said. “The place is in the first style of elegance, and if our hostess is a bit vulgar that can hardly matter. A friend of yours, I gather?”
Malcolm laughed. “We are acquaintances. We knew each other long ago.”
“In Munich, I believe she said?”
“In Munich,” confirmed Malcolm. His bottle of wine was brought and he poured them each a glass.
Stephen accepted it and bent an inquiring glance on his friend.
“You’ll learn no more from me, or at least not until I’ve had a great deal more to drink,” said Malcolm cheerfully. “Shall we play?”
Chapter 26
Their trio focused on the faro table, and half an hour passed in boisterous play. A pile of coins and bank notes grew steadily in front of Malcolm as he drank his wine and placed his bets with easy assurance. Arthur fared more unevenly, but he was in no danger of being badly dipped. He accepted a glass of burgundy from Malcolm and talked easily with the other gentlemen at the table. Mrs. Featherhaugh, who presided over their play, viewed the group with great pleasure.
Malcolm had just sent for another bottle of wine when the door opened and a group of gentlemen entered. He looked up briefly, noting that Lord Denby was among them. Mrs. Featherhaugh hailed him by name, and he strolled over to the table, taking her hand familiarly in his and kissing it.
“Augusta, you look lovely tonight,” Denby said gallantly. He slurred his words slightly, making it apparent that he had been drinking already.
Mrs. Featherhaugh simpered. “How kind of you to say so, Lord Denby. It has been a few nights since you favored my home with your presence.”
“I was preoccupied with business. But I can’t be kept away for long.” Denby pressed her hand and then released it lingeringly.
“Will you join the play, sir?” she asked.
Denby glanced around the table, his eyes narrowing briefly when they encountered Malcolm and his friends.
“Wroxton,” he said distantly.
Malcolm put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he felt the younger man stiffen. “Good evening, Denby,” he said calmly. “You know Sir Arthur Keighley, do you not?”
“We are acquainted.”
Malcolm’s fingers tightened, and Arthur managed a nod of his head. “Denby,” he ground out.
Lord Denby smirked, and took a place at the table across from them. “I believe I will join you, Augusta,” he said to Mrs. Featherhaugh, who was watching them curiously.
“Damn it,” whispered Arthur to Malcolm. “That fellow—I can’t abide him. He—he…”
“I’m aware of what he did,” replied Malcolm quietly. “Remember, part of being a gentleman is knowing when to fight and why. Some battles can’t be won, no matter how right you are. Pull yourself together; Denby is looking for trouble, and I don’t wish him to find it with you.”
Arthur swallowed and visibly calmed himself. He placed a coin by a card, studiously ignoring Denby, and took another swig of wine.
Malcolm exchanged a meaningful glance with Stephen, and after Mrs. Featherhaugh had played the bank’s card and the bets had been settled, Delaney turned to Arthur.
“I’ve a mind to try the hazard table,” he said. “Would you care to accompany me, Keighley?”
Arthur gratefully assented. “Will you join us?” he asked Malcolm.
“The luck is favoring me tonight,” said the earl. “I believe I’ll stay a bit longer.”
Stephen and Arthur moved away, and Malcolm poured himself another glass of wine. Denby grimaced.
“Whatever made you bring a stripling like that to a gaming house?” he asked. “He’s still wet behind the ears.”
“We must all grow up sometime,” observed Malcolm. “I find it is best to do so among friends. Besides, our lovely hostess was happy to make his acquaintance.”
“Indeed I was,” agreed Mrs. Featherhaugh. “Such a handsome young man, and so polite.”
“Rich too, as I’m sure you know,” sneered Denby.
Malcolm placed a coin on the queen of clubs and looked up. “I believe we were discussing manners,” he said coolly. “Sir Arthur certainly has them in abundance; far more than some others present.”
Denby grew red. “Now see here, Wroxton,” he began, but Mrs. Featherhaugh stepped into the breach.
“No quarrelling in this house, gentlemen,” she said brightly.
“But he insulted me!” protested Denby as Malcolm observed them dispassionately.
“I’m sure Lord Wroxton meant nothing by his comment,” said Mrs. Featherhaugh. She glanced anxiously at Malcolm.
He smiled at her. “I would not wish to do anything to cause you concern, Mrs. Featherhaugh.”
“There, you see?” she said to Lord Denby placatingly, who scowled. He called for a bottle of wine.
The play continued. The pile of coins and notes in front of Malcolm grew, but Denby’s luck appeared to be uneven. After some time, he stood up from the table.
“My luck is out tonight,” he said.
“Perhaps it is merely the game,” suggested Malcolm. “Would you care to play a hand of picquet with me?”
Denby glared at him, his brow furrowed. Then he gave a short laugh. “I’m partial to the game.”
Malcolm stood. “Then by all means let us see how well we are matched.” He picked up his glass of wine and moved to where a few small tables were set aside, calling to a waiter for a pack of cards.
Denby seated himself, his bottle of wine at his elbow. “What stakes do you play for, Wroxton?” he asked.
Malcolm viewed him calmly. “I play for whatever stakes are proposed to me.”
“I’ve a mind to make back the money I lost at the faro table. What do you say to ten shillings a point and thirty pounds the rubber?”
“Whatever you choose,” said Malcolm indifferently, turning away to take the cards the waiter was proffering on a tray.
“Excellent!” Denby rubbed his hands together, foreseeing a profitable evening.
The two men settled down to play in silence. No one disturbed them, though Mrs. Featherhaugh cast an occasional nervous look in their direction. They appeared to be very evenly matched, and at the end of the first game, Denby was the winner by a small amount. He sat back in his chair, pleased.
“Shall we double the stakes for the next game?” he asked.
“Certainly,” agreed Malcolm.
The play continued, with Denby taking the first rubber. He called for more wine, and proposed doubling the stakes again. Malcolm assented indolently.
Stephen wandered by the table as they played and stayed for some moments, observing. He gave a little shake of his head as it became clear to him that Malcolm was toying with his opponent. Slowly the tide of the game was turning, and Denby had begun to lose.
Malcolm glanced up at his friend. “Did you need something, Del?” he asked lazily.
Stephen’s lips twitched. “No, I believe you have things well in hand here,” he answered, turning away.
Malcolm turned back to the game. He won the second rubber, and Denby threw his cards down in disgust.
“The cards favored you! Another hand? And shall we raise the stakes?”
“Certainly.” Malcolm signaled to a waiter, who brought another bottle of wine and placed it at Denby’s elbow.
As the night wore on, Denby continued to lose. He was quite drunk, b
ut his head was clear enough for him to perceive Wroxton was far more skilled at the game, and had an uncanny way of summing up the contents of his opponent’s hand. At the end of a rubber, which he had lost in two short games, he stood, swaying slightly.
“You’ll not get off this easily,” he said. “I mean to win my money back from you.”
Malcolm inclined his head, and watched as Denby staggered off to relieve himself. He sat casually at the table, one arm spread along it, the other holding his wine glass, a leg stretched out in front of him.
Stephen approached him, a look of concern on his face.
“Mal, what you up to?” he whispered. “Do you mean to ruin the man?”
Malcolm gazed at him, his face expressionless. “I never mean to ruin anyone, no matter how poorly they play cards. I merely wish to make him very uncomfortable.”
“Damn it, he’s down thousands of pounds.”
“Is he?” Malcolm smiled.
“Blast it, are you drunk?” demanded Stephen.
“You know I can hold my liquor. Your concern is noted, my friend, but is completely unnecessary.”
Denby returned to the table, his face unbecomingly flushed. He glared at Stephen, who nodded politely and departed. Denby seated himself, and pushed the cards toward Malcolm.
“I mean to get my money back,” he pronounced.
“I’m happy to oblige you,” said Malcolm.
Two hours later the waiters were replacing the candles in their sockets, and the rooms were slowly emptying of company. Mrs. Featherhaugh approached their table tentatively.
“Gentlemen, the house closes at four o’clock,” she said in a soft voice.
Denby turned on her angrily. “I’m not leaving until I’ve regained my money.”
Malcolm laughed, and put down his cards. “My game, I believe,” he said unhurriedly. “Of course we will oblige you, Mrs. Featherhaugh.” He swiftly added up the points and announced to Denby the extent of his losses. The man paled, and Mrs. Featherhaugh made a strangled noise.
“I’ll accept a draft from your bank if you choose,” said Malcolm, standing.
“Damn it, you must have cheated,” announced Denby loudly.
The heads of the few remaining people in the room turned toward them. Malcolm raised his eyebrows.
“I think you are mistaken, Denby,” he said quietly.
Mrs. Featherhaugh made a fluttering motion with her hands and stepped between the two men. “Lord Wroxton, I’m sure Lord Denby meant nothing by that.”
Malcolm glanced down at her, amused. “The man accused me of cheating,” he pointed out. “He was quite clear about it.”
Mrs. Featherhaugh laid a hand on his arm. “He’s drunk, and I don’t need a scandal connected to this house. Please do not call him out; do you want Denby’s death on your hands?”
Malcolm gave Denby a chilly look. “I don’t think I’d mind,” he said flatly. “I will let the insult go because you asked me, Mrs. Featherhaugh, and because of our old friendship.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“I would never wish to cause a lady difficulties,” responded Malcolm politely.
Mrs. Featherhaugh smiled tentatively and moved away, saying good night to some departing gamesters. Malcolm glanced at his erstwhile opponent.
“A word if you please, Denby.”
Denby turned around, an angry look on his face. “You’ll get your money,” he snarled.
“I have no doubt of that,” said Malcolm mildly. “I feel quite sure you’re good for it. This is another matter.”
“What else do you want from me? Isn’t six thousand pounds enough?”
“I’m afraid not,” Malcolm replied apologetically. “There is one other thing. You will immediately cease your attentions to Miss Keighley.”
Surprise replaced the anger on Denby’s countenance. “Miss Keighley? What’s she to you?”
Malcolm took out his snuffbox and offered it to Denby, who made a hasty motion of rejection. The earl languidly took a pinch. “What Miss Keighley is to me is no concern of yours. But you will oblige me in this.”
Denby peered at him. “She told me of your advances,” he sneered. “She’ll have none of you. Too good for the lot of us, it seems.”
“I did not approach you in order to discuss Miss Keighley’s preferences.”
“No, you came here to give me orders,” replied Denby. “I don’t have to listen to you. Miss Keighley sent for me today, and I will visit her when I choose.”
“Perhaps I did not make myself clear.” A steely note entered Malcolm’s voice, though his expression remained calm. “You will leave Miss Keighley alone or you will answer to me.”
Denby paled slightly. Stories of Wroxton’s expertise with pistols had long circulated among the ton. “You have no right to forbid me to see her!” he blustered.
“Perhaps not. Yet I find myself doing so. I advise you not to test me.” Malcolm sketched a polite bow. “Good night, Denby. I will be pleased to return your vowels when you settle your debt.”
Denby glared angrily at the earl’s back as he walked away, and then marched towards the door, calling for his hat and cane.
Del gave Malcolm a curious glance as the earl rejoined his friends. “What was that about?”
Malcolm waved one hand airily. “We were conversing.”
“Why in God’s name would you converse with Denby?” asked Stephen.
“It seemed to be the polite thing to do.” Malcolm glanced at Arthur. “How did you fare tonight?”
“I won—a little,” he said.
Stephen smiled. “He did quite well, though I’d say Keighley is not a gamester at heart. His sister need never worry that he will gamble away the estate.”
“What of you?” asked Malcolm.
“Mrs. Featherhaugh will be very pleased with the amount I lost in her home tonight.”
Malcolm laughed. “Well, I’m for home. Gentlemen?”
The party said a pleasant goodnight to their hostess and departed the gaming salon, collected their hats and coats from the sinister looking butler, and climbed into their waiting chaise. Malcolm sighed as he leaned back on the soft upholstery.
The carriage moved forward, and Stephen looked across at his friend.
“Some deep doings tonight, Mal.”
“Deep enough,” agreed the earl.
“Are you going to tell us why you took such a large sum of money off Denby?”
Malcolm shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pocket of his coat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“I don’t like the man.”
“I don’t like Denby either, but I have no desire to ruin him,” observed Stephen.
“He’s in charge of the smugglers, and I need him to become reckless. I’ve asked enough questions to know his estate is badly mismanaged and he needs the money from the brandy to live the way he does. I’ve not ruined him, but he will be particularly anxious to bring in the next shipment and deliver it.”
“Ah.” Stephen contemplated the earl for a moment. “Did you cheat, Mal?”
“Damn you,” said Malcolm mildly. “No, I did not. I was prepared to if required, but there was no need. Denby is not the gamester I am.”
“No one’s the gamester you are, Mal,” observed Stephen.
“I made my living gambling for ten years; when your next meal depends upon it, you find your wits greatly sharpened,” said Malcolm. He glanced at Arthur, who was watching them avidly. “I need not tell you that your sister is not to know of my doings tonight.”
Arthur nodded. “As I scarcely understand what happened myself, I doubt I shall tell anyone about it. But I feel somehow that I should thank you, and that Helena would if she knew.”
“There is no need to thank me; I do this for my own very good reasons,” said Malcolm. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, and before very long his breathing told his companions that he was asleep.
Chapter 27
The afternoon fo
llowing the excursion to Folkestone, Malcolm sat in his library, going over the accounts. He eventually pushed the ledger away with a sigh. He realized he needed to pay attention to these things, but it seemed very hard. He needed Miss Keighley, he reflected, to assist him in these matters.
The thought of Helena brought a smile to his lips, but before he could settle into a daydream, there was a rap at the door.
“Come in,” he called.
The door opened, and his bailiff entered. “You sent for me, my lord?”
“Ah yes, indeed I did, Bulkeley.” Malcolm gestured at a chair. “Please, sit down.”
The bailiff settled in the chair across from him and looked at his lordship expectantly. Malcolm leaned back and regarded him. There was a moment of silence.
“My lord?” said Bulkeley. “You did request my presence.”
“Yes, of course I did.” Malcolm tapped a finger absently on the desk. “Bulkeley, I wish to discuss the free traders with you.”
The bailiff looked perplexed. “Again, my lord? I believe I told you my thoughts on this. I realize Miss Keighly believes there is a large number of them and that they threaten the local people, but I cannot share her opinion.”
Malcolm nodded indolently. “Yes, you told me that. I am beginning to think you were right.”
“You are, my lord?” Bulkeley appeared to be surprised.
“Indeed. I have spent some time with Miss Keighley and, while she is a very competent woman in many ways, she does not appear to have much knowledge of this sort of thing. I, on the other hand, do, and I find no evidence that smugglers are running amok on my land. Oh, I’m sure there are a few here and there, but then, I’ve never been averse to a spot of brandy.” Malcolm chuckled. “I hate to disappoint my lovely neighbor, but I doubt we shall capture a band of ruffians.”
“Then will you dissuade Miss Keighley from riling up the countryside with her tales?” asked Bulkely.
“I shall try,” said Malcolm. “The lady in question is a bit hot-headed, as I’m sure you know.”
“I’ve felt the rough side of her tongue from time to time,” said Bulkeley feelingly.
“Have you? Well, I shall, as I said, attempt to distract her from her pursuit of these fantastical notions.” Malcolm summoned up a leer. “I can’t say it will be a chore; the lady in question is very lovely and I have heard—well, it will be my pleasure to spend time with her, if you get my drift.”
The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) Page 20