Mary Or The Perils 0f Imprudence

by Catherine Bowness

  “If you wish to know her ladyship’s reasons for her actions you had better ask her. I will not marry you because I do not like you. Pray let go of my hand and take your seat at the table – or would you prefer to be one of the piquet players since I daresay loo without large stakes will seem dreadfully dull to you.”

  “It will be tame but, with you at the table, there will be enough to entertain me. Or would you prefer to play piquet with me? We could make an interesting side wager if we are not allowed to play for money. How about, if I win, you agree to a kiss as evidence of your long-term interest in my offer? If you win, I will engage never to play for money again - as long as I live.”

  “It is tempting to try to steer you back to a more moral path,” she admitted, “but I do not believe you would be able to keep your side of the bargain.”

  “I shall have no trouble if I win, which I am almost certain to do,” he replied, laughing.

  “Very well,” she answered, nettled, “Let us play piquet for those stakes. If you win, you may have one kiss; if I win, you will never play any game – not just loo or piquet – for money again; for the whole of your life.”

  Chapter 27

  Mary choosing to sit down at a small table with Mr Armitage at the very start of the evening displeased several people, including Lady Leland, who would have preferred to see her enliven the loo table first, followed by a tête-à-tête with Lord Marklye over piquet towards the end of the evening.

  Certainly she had no wish to see her companion, face flushed and eyes sparkling, take a place at the side of the room with Mr Armitage as her opponent, a man for whom she held little regard and of whose dealings with the female sex she was exceedingly wary. Mary had behaved impeccably ever since she had come into her ladyship’s employ but the old lady had no doubt that her propensity for imprudent behaviour remained, albeit presently suppressed. Falling into the river had been a sign that the incaution which had characterised her conduct as a child was making a reappearance although Lady Leland believed that that episode had every chance of turning out to be wholly desirable. Flirting – for that was what it looked like – with Mr Armitage had not formed part of the purpose of the card party.

  Sir Adrian was disappointed. He had harboured warm feelings towards Miss Best for several years although he had always suspected that his character and way of life were not altogether the sort of thing she sought. Since he could never take his eyes off her when they were in the same room, he knew quite well that hers rarely passed across his countenance more than fleetingly. He had never seen that bright look – possibly triggered by anger as much as admiration - but was not at all surprised that it should have been inspired by Mr Armitage, whom even Sir Adrian could see had much to recommend him in the way of looks and – sadly – in the way of reputation. Sir Adrian, in spite of having lived his whole life in the depths of the country, was not unaware that females were frequently attracted to scoundrels.

  Mr Charles Armitage was another of Miss Best’s long-time admirers although he knew he stood no chance with her at all. They had often spoken, and indeed danced at the Autumn Ball, but he did not for a moment suppose that her eye would light upon him for any length of time. He knew himself to be a dull dog compared to his handsome brother. He had once hoped that, as a younger son with few prospects, he might be fortunate enough to engage the affection of the young woman, whose prospects were non-existent. Now that she had been elevated to the position of heiress, he knew he had no chance at all, but still found himself hoping that she would not succumb to his brother, whose character he knew intimately.

  Lord Marklye was cast into despair. He had endeavoured to approach cautiously for fear of frightening a quarry which he recognised as easy to startle and likely to become wholly lost if he were to move too abruptly. He had been more fortunate than he had ever dreamed he might be when he had been able to pull her, dripping and grateful, from the river. He had believed that she liked him – nay, more than liked him, but then he had done what he had so strenuously tried to avoid: he had moved too fast, had questioned her too closely and caused her, not at all to his surprise, to take fright. Her greeting this evening had been distant; she had barely been able to meet his eyes and yet seemed to have no trouble at all in meeting the eyes of the man from whom he had so recently rescued her. He wondered now if she had lost her temper with him precisely because he had snatched her from that particular peril; it seemed to him only too likely that she had in fact been enjoying her peculiar position flung across the withers of Mr Armitage’s horse and held rigid by one imperious hand. He had jumped to the erroneous conclusion that she was in the process of being abducted; perhaps she had been but, if so, it seemed that it had not been altogether without her consent.

  One of the last things he had said to her had been a contrite admission that he had misunderstood; he had meant that he had thought her as close to forming a lasting attachment to him as he was to her; in fact, his misunderstanding, he now believed, had been of a much graver order: he had thought she needed rescuing when in fact she had been enjoying herself hugely and no doubt looking forward to further delights in the company of the ridiculously handsome and no doubt hugely experienced Mr Armitage.

  In fact there was not a single person who was altogether indifferent to Miss Best and Mr Armitage squaring up to each other at the small card table.

  Sir James and Lady Armitage were quite pleased. Their elder son had been a worry to them for many years, being addicted to both gaming and women in a way that offended them – and had already cost them a deal of money. Both had known Mary Best for some time and both liked her; if she could reform John and turn him into a respectable husband, so much the better; the fact that she had recently been proclaimed an heiress was an added bonus and would, they knew, recommend her as a bride to him. Not many heiresses were as lovely as Mary Best.

  Mrs and Miss Porter had never met either Mary or Mr Armitage before. Both had known a sinking of the heart as they had looked upon the beauteous Miss Best. A woman who looked like that and possessed a fortune would most definitely put poor Susan’s nose out of joint. Mrs Porter had, until her daughter choked on a cake in Sir Adrian’s garden, been cautiously optimistic that they might be able to avoid a humiliating come-out; Sir Adrian had seemed quite keen at the start of the afternoon. Unfortunately, Mrs Porter did not hold out much hope that Susan’s conduct had not completely scuppered her chances in that direction, but still there had been a sliver of optimism remaining until she had seen Mary Best and Sir Adrian’s expression when he looked upon her.

  Susan, having already bestowed her heart upon her music teacher, had no interest in competing with Mary for any of the gentlemen present but she had nevertheless experienced that lowering of the spirits which is not uncommon for a plain female to feel when introduced to a shining Beauty.

  Mary herself was entirely unaware of anyone else’s feelings, being far too taken up with the challenge which had, for some reason which she could not altogether understand, been posed by Mr Armitage; there was an element of defiance in her allowing herself to be monopolised by him since, while her gaze was held by the dark, mesmerising eyes of Mr Armitage, she was able to pretend that she cared nothing for the new – and distressing - coolness of Lord Marklye.

  Mr Armitage opened the new pack of cards and prepared it for piquet with swift, deft movements. Mary watched his hands running through the pack, discarding all the cards below a seven, and shivered slightly; there was something decidedly off-putting about the speed with which his fingers moved as well as the apparent carelessness with which he threw the superfluous ones to the side of the table, where they landed in a surprisingly neat heap. Undoubtedly, he had performed this action countless times before. When he had done, he shuffled the remaining thirty-two cards, again with a dispatch which filled her with a sort of horror. He slapped the filleted pack down on the table between them and invited her to cut for ‘senior’ partner – the one to lead.

  He won the cut an
d Mary found herself wondering if he had marked the cards while he was either shuffling or sorting them. She did not suppose that she had the faintest chance of beating him and did not particularly mind since she neither cared whether he reformed nor believed that he would - and her side of the bargain was not particularly onerous.

  Mary and Lady Leland frequently played piquet after dinner so that she was by no means unfamiliar with the game or unversed in the tactics but she could not help noticing how exceedingly tense Mr Armitage was; this game clearly mattered a great deal to him, a fact which she found surprising for, although he had in a sense a great deal to lose by losing, this was by no means the first time he had played for high stakes and the bet he had agreed with her was not one which she thought he would feel bound to honour.

  He won the first game and looked up at her with a challenging glance. “We did not settle for how many games we would play,” he pointed out. “Will the usual six do for you?”

  “I should think it will be more than adequate for you to humiliate me,” she replied lightly and received a wolfish grin in response.

  But suddenly the cards changed their allegiance and began to fall more favourably and with astonishing regularity in Mary’s direction. She was not slow to take advantage although she still did not expect to win in the end. He kept the score as the games progressed and, when the six initially agreed upon reached their conclusion, she was the winner.

  “Well, my luck still seems to be out,” Mr Armitage observed in a dull voice, pushing the cards away from him as though they might continue to affect his fortunes adversely if they remained on his side of the table.

  “Is that why you came on a repairing lease?” she asked, an unexpected stab of sympathy striking her as she looked at his downbent face. It seemed he could not bear to look at her.

  “Yes; and how the devil am I to repair my fortunes if I am not to play again?”

  “I have no notion: become a soldier or a sailor or something of that sort?”

  “I’d need to buy a commission. The only option is to marry an heiress. Will you have me, Mary?”

  “No; and in any event I should suppose that you need money now – not in ten years’ time. You must make up to a rich widow if you can see no other way out of your difficulty.”

  “But I want you, Mary. And now you will not even kiss me. Will you play again?”

  “No; you have sworn never to play again.”

  “For money. Will you play for kisses?” He reached across the table and possessed himself of her hand.

  “What would be my prize if I won again?” she asked, teasing.

  “What would you like? That I keep my mouth closed on the nature of your past misdemeanours?”

  She looked up, startled. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  For a moment he looked flummoxed and she realised that he did not in fact know anything for certain; he was making a wild guess that she must be concealing something for it would be impossible for a man such as Mr Armitage to suppose that anyone might choose the life she had for reasons other than necessity – and what necessity other than some sort of scandal could have propelled a Beauty into taking such employment? No doubt he suspected her of having lost her reputation through some sort of improper behaviour and drew the conclusion that, as a result of this, she had been forced to take refuge in the depths of the country. His earlier attempt to abduct her fitted with this assumption: if she was already ruined, she would very likely have been ready to fall like a ripe fruit into his arms and her initially defensive behaviour was probably no more than a feint. Her having fallen in with his suggestion of the game, which he expected to win, had encouraged him to think that he would in the end be successful. Either he was now convinced that she would not marry him unless blackmailed or he no longer cared since she had pointed out that, even if Lady Leland were to die within the next month or so, her inheritance would not be in his hands in time to settle his debts.

  “You have pulled the wool over Lady Leland’s eyes with extraordinary skill,” he said, watching her carefully, no doubt alerted by her reaction to the likelihood that his guess was correct. “I wonder if she might decide to change her will again if she knew your past.”

  Mary almost sighed with relief. “I cannot conceive why you are threatening me in this manner but I can assure you that it will avail you nothing. Her ladyship is perfectly aware of ‘my past’, as you call it in that sinister fashion. What, pray, would you tell her?”

  “I will say nothing if you agree to marry me,” he said in a wheedling tone.

  “You have a very odd way of attempting to ingratiate yourself with a female,” she replied contemptuously, gathering up the cards and beginning, not very expertly, to shuffle them.

  He took them from her. “How did you manage to win?” he asked, rallying and trying to provoke her. “Did you cheat? Had you marked the cards beforehand? Or was it just the luck of the beginner?”

  “Certainly not. You know I did not; you opened a new pack in front of me. I am shocked at your accusation; you suggested the wager and I consented. You are a bad loser, sir, and I will not play with you again.”

  “There is no need to get into a pucker – I was teasing. I have deuced bad luck. Mary, do you not like me even a little? I am sure you do else you would not have consented to reward me with a kiss. We would make a fine pair, you know. My parents like you and Lady Leland is a great friend of my mama so I daresay she would not disapprove. Or are you holding out for an offer from Marklye? His fortune makes yours look paltry, does it not? Are you after that? You have probably already burned your boats on that account by sitting down with me just now. After all, he was under the impression that I had abducted you the other day, was he not? It will have given him a very odd idea of the sort of love-making you favour to see you flirting with me just now.”

  “Have you done insulting me?” she asked, standing up and looking down at him coldly where he still sat, lounging, at the table.

  He looked up at her with a half-smile and said, “You know that I would not hurt you, Mary. I was teasing. I am more than half in love with you.”

  “I should hope so if you are thinking of marrying me,” she replied tartly but could not help her own lips curving into an answering smile. He was a bad man and not at all to be trusted – and yet - he was quite devastatingly handsome and Mary, who considered Lord Marklye to be too good for her and was still smarting after her bitter argument with him and her subsequent belief that he had changed his mind, found her amour propre soothed by Mr Armitage’s evident admiration even if he was, as she suspected, more taken with her looks and fortune than her character.

  As she spoke, there fell a brief silence while the pool was counted at the loo table followed by a general pushing back of chairs and exclamations of joy and despair. It seemed that they had finished a game.

  “Come along, you two: you had better join the loo table now; I believe I shall sit out altogether unless someone would like to join me in a round of piquet.” Lady Leland looked more than usually fatigued; she rose from her seat and made room for Mr Armitage, who was hovering behind her, at the larger table.

  “I should be delighted to join you,” Lord Marklye said at once, rising and ceding his place to Mary.

  She looked up as he pushed in her chair, wounded by the coldness and distance of his manner as well as by his alacrity to continue at a different table from her.

  “Thank you,” she said and heard, with a shiver of shame, the humility in her own voice.

  She was convinced that he had heard her last quip to Mr Armitage and cursed herself for her imprudence in making a joke of a subject which, when he had raised it, she had received with a wholly spurious accusation of having been patronisingly insulted. She was certain, when she glanced at his rigid face, his mouth - for the first time since she had met him - entirely devoid of humour and set in a grim line, that he had interpreted her lively words to Mr Armstrong as indicating that she was, if she had not
already accepted an offer from him, seriously contemplating doing so.

  “Not at all,” he replied in a chilly tone and retreated to the piquet table.

  Mary found herself sitting between Mr Armitage and Sir Adrian. She wondered if he too had heard something of what she and Mr Armitage had said because his manner, whilst polite, was noticeably less eager to please than usual. Miss Porter was on his other side and it seemed that he had taken it upon himself to help her to understand the best way of playing for he leaned towards her at frequent intervals and spoke in a low voice, while she seemed to find it necessary to ask his advice every time a new set of cards was dealt.

  Mr Armitage, provided with a pile of counters to begin the game, affected a world-weary and bored manner which she found so irritating that she was tempted to hit him.

  “No doubt this is one of the games on which you have lost so much money in the past,” she said to him in a low voice.

  “You are quite right, as you so distressingly seem to be more often than not,” he replied in anything but an affectionate tone. “It is an exceedingly tedious game unless enlivened by high stakes. There is a great deal more to piquet.”

  “Yes, indeed; and then, a game for two always has a certain tension, does it not, which a game for a large number of people lacks unless, I suppose, high stakes are introduced? The other way to make such a game amusing is what we are trying to provide tonight: people behaving like children and entering into the spirit of competition without fear of losing the shirt off their back. You are expected to enjoy yourself, Mr Armitage.”

  “I am still trying to recover from the reverse of fortune I just sustained,” he replied. “I really do not think I am capable of shouting enthusiastically when I win a pile of counters.”

  “You might get the prize at the end of the evening.”

  “Is it your hand, Mary? If it were that, I would try very hard to win.”