The Lady's Gamble

by Abby Ayles

  Lord Quentin slid three cards across the table. “Three, please.”

  “And I’ll take one,” Miss Eliza said.

  “Cora? Mannis?” Lord Harrison asked.

  Both Lady Cora and Lord Mannis shook their heads.

  Regina marveled at how they all addressed one another informally. The gentlemen were called only by their last names, with no honorific before it. The exception, of course, was Miss Eliza, who called Lord Mannis by his first name. That was her right, Regina supposed, since they were married in behavior and heart if not in the eyes of the law.

  Still, she had never heard a married person call their spouse by their first name where others could hear.

  And then the ladies were simply called by their first names. Not even a Miss before it, never mind the honorific ‘Lady.’ Regina called Miss Eliza as such because the woman had asked for it. Lady Cora had said no such thing, so Regina kept the honorific.

  What bound these people together so thoroughly that they spoke as family, without barriers?

  It wasn’t just the names, either. As the play continued, the group teased and complained and confessed to one another. It reminded Regina of her own sisters.

  Except, these people got on better than Natalie and Elizabeth did.

  The next part of the game was essentially Whist. After all the cards had been played, the pool was then divided evenly among all those who had made tricks. You had to make at least one trick. Otherwise you forfeited the money and earned none.

  Being unable to play a single trick was called being “looed.” In the unlimited version that gamblers played, anyone who was looed had to forfeit to the others the amount of the entire pool.

  This meant that if the pool was, say, equal to fifty pounds, the person who had been looed had to pay fifty pounds. The sum would then be divided evenly among the others.

  It was easy for Regina to see how many men had lost their fortunes to this game. With the stakes increasing, there was no telling just how much money would go into the pool. And it was harder than it looked to play a trick, never mind win one.

  Regina watched the others playing. She didn’t quite have the hand of the card game. Instead, she decided to focus on how each person played.

  Perhaps it didn’t matter so much playing the cards well. After all, there was fair element of chance to it. She couldn’t control the cards.

  But with a little bit of careful work, she could possibly control the players. Or at least know how they worked.

  Regina studied the players.

  First, there was Lord Mannis. He was a reckless player. He seemed to be reckless in everything. He was constantly making comments and trading barbs. He touched Miss Eliza and whispered in her ear.

  He had little time left to live, Regina thought. Why should he be cautious when any day could be his last? The way to beat him, she thought, would be to draw out more of that recklessness. Get him to bet larger and larger sums, teasing him until he thought he had a chance.

  The cards would turn against him eventually. All she would have to do to beat him would be to play him and keep herself in the game until the cards turned against him. Then she’d collect everything from him.

  Miss Eliza was an erratic player. She would be overly cautious at one round and then play recklessly the next. She seemed to delight in confusing the others.

  More than once Regina passed behind her to see what cards she had, only to see Miss Eliza pass up a better card in order to play a card that would not help her along but would confuse and frustrate another player.

  She most delighted in bothering Lord Mannis. Her teasing only served to make him smile and kiss her cheek. It was far more affection than Regina had seen between any other couple. Save, perhaps, for Lord and Lady Morrison. But then the Morrisons were a little unconventional, just like these people.

  It amazed her that someone could tease their lover in such a manner and get away with it. Miss Eliza was constantly bantering—there was no other word for it—with Lord Mannis. Yet he indulged it. He even delighted in it.

  Regina had only ever seen women acting demurely towards their suitors. In the marriages she’d seen, there had been nothing but respect from the wife to the husband. At least, out in public. Whatever discord there might be was kept private.

  This wasn’t discord. This was harmony, but light and teasing. Miss Eliza and Lord Mannis treated one another like equals.

  It did give Regina some hope for Mr. Denny in regards to Elizabeth. If he truly cared about her and would meet her witticisms with the same good humor and love that Lord Mannis did for Miss Eliza, perhaps they would make a good match after all.

  However, it also made Regina think upon Bridget’s words. Her sister had asked her to think of what she wanted in a suitor. For when the time came.

  She wanted this, Regina realized. She wanted someone that she could banter with. She doubted that she would ever gain the confidence to banter with someone in such a fashion. Still, it was something to hope for, wasn’t it?

  Regina realized she wasn’t thinking about the game. She focused back in.

  Miss Eliza was an erratic player which meant she couldn’t be predicted. However, it also meant she wasn’t a threat. She was more interested in throwing people off their game than actually winning.

  If Regina were to play her, all she would have to do would be to ignore her. Miss Eliza would fluster other players for Regina, but she wouldn’t win much. She wasn’t a true threat.

  On the other hand, Lord Quentin was a methodical player. He had a way of doing things and he stuck to it. Admirable and logical, Regina thought. It also made him predictable.

  He must have won the way he had because his method worked. Or perhaps he’d been more flexible before and was now less so because he was among friends. None of them were playing for real money, after all.

  Still, Regina thought having a method put him in a corner. Once she figured out his plan, she’d know what he was going to do every hand. And once she knew that, she could depend upon it. She could play against it and piggyback off him to win.

  Lady Cora was a more enigmatic player. Regina thought that fitting since she seemed an enigmatic woman.

  The people at the table were all good friends. So much so, they acted more like family. Regina could see why, now: they were all, in their way, outcasts.

  Lord Quentin was tolerated for now, but being born out of wedlock and his skin color would cast him out the moment his father died. His father’s protection afforded him a pretense of acceptance but it wasn’t real.

  Miss Eliza and Lord Mannis had to make an unconventional decision because of Lord Mannis’s illness. That decision might be the most pragmatic one, but it also put a damper on their love. To have both, they had to exclude themselves from society.

  And, Regina thought, could any man as sickly as Lord Mannis truly belong with his peers? So many activities required exertion. Riding, shooting, dancing at balls, these all tired even Regina out. Meanwhile, Lord Mannis was having a coughing fit every twenty minutes, just from talking while playing cards.

  He would always be left behind, she thought. Poor man. He couldn’t dance, or join the men on their hunting expeditions. In a way, removing himself from society to spend time with Miss Eliza must be the best thing for him.

  It amazed her that Miss Eliza should be so willing to abandon society for him. Not that Lord Mannis was not worthy of her affection. He was more cutting in his words than anyone Regina had met besides Elizabeth. But he was also witty, and appeared well-learned, and filled with obvious affection for Miss Eliza.

  No, it wasn’t his worthiness that surprised her. It was simply that Miss Eliza was giving up a year or so of her life for him. It might seem not overlong, in the grand scheme of one’s life, but Miss Eliza wouldn’t be at a marriageable age for long.

  Regina didn’t know how old Miss Eliza was. She appeared to be about one and twenty. But seven and twenty was already considered an old maid. Taking a year off
could harm her chances of finding another suiter after Lord Mannis died.

  Not to mention that she could not attend balls or hunting parties. She probably couldn’t see many of her friends. Regina wouldn’t mind such a thing for she had no friends. And gatherings of people, of course, were not her cup of tea. But Miss Eliza was full of energy. She seemed the type to love social gatherings.

  The fact that she was willing to give up being social, and risking her chances of marriage, said quite a lot. Regina was oddly proud of her. Lord Mannis was going to die either way. He wasn’t missing out on much.

  In fact this way he won. He got the woman he loved, and then after his death he knew his brother would be taken care of. He would leave behind no sickly heirs. And he would die safe in the knowledge that Miss Eliza, with her breeding and character, would find another husband.

  But Miss Eliza was risking much. What if no man wanted her after she was gone for such a time? What if people asked too many questions about where she had been?

  Miss Eliza said something at one point about putting forth the rumor that she was traveling about the continent. This was met with much teasing as the others asked her where she supposedly was now. Miss Eliza said, why Italy of course. Where else this time of year?

  Regina thought it still a risk. Not everyone would buy into the fabrication. She applauded Miss Eliza in her head for taking such a risk for love.

  In a way it made them similar. Although romantic love and familial love were different, Regina liked to think that her love was no less strong, and her risk no less great.

  But then, she knew she’d always have her family. Her sisters would be there whether she got along with them or not. Risking all for someone who had no obligation to you… who might reject and leave you… who might change their mind…

  The idea scared her. Perhaps Miss Eliza was taking the greater risk after all.

  So it made sense why Lord Quentin, Miss Eliza, and Lord Mannis were all banding together. But what about Lady Cora?

  She came from wealth, going by her dress and her jewelry. She carried herself with breeding. She was as pale as Regina. And she seemed to be in quite good health. What set her apart? Why would she choose to spend time with the others? If they were all set to be judged by society, what was her supposed crime?

  Finally, there was Lord Harrison.

  Regina could understand why he spent time with the others. Lord Harrison had nearly lost everything. He’d had to avoid society, and he had probably been judged by them as a child for his father’s losses. He had also professed to know Lord Quentin since childhood.

  It was perfectly understandable that he would end up finding friends among people such as these. Choosing to stay associated with them spoke of their closeness.

  As for his playing, Regina was at a loss.

  Lady Cora was a good player. Regina could not quite make out her style yet. But she knew she would in time. Lord Harrison? She had no idea if she’d ever land upon it.

  He played subtly. He was not erratic like Miss Eliza but rather seemed to adjust based upon the mood of the hand. He would tip towards recklessness, baiting Lord Mannis. Then he would withdraw and become cautious, countering Miss Eliza’s wild moves. When Miss Eliza became cautious, Lord Harrison grew bold.

  Oh, Regina thought. Lord Harrison didn’t have his own style of playing. That was it! He based his style of playing off of the others, rather than relying upon himself alone.

  All of the others played how they wanted to. Or, rather, in the way that they thought was best. But Lord Harrison was watching the players around him. He was acting based upon their actions. He let them make their move, and then went cautious or playful or aggressive to play off or counter or benefit from what they did.

  Lord Harrison lay down a card, and then gently nudged Regina with his elbow. She turned to look directly into his face. The corner of his mouth turned upward just the littlest bit. He didn’t wink, but his eyes gleamed.

  “Very good,” he murmured, softly. Regina doubted anyone else could hear. The warm, intimate tone of his voice sent a shiver up her spine.

  He had noticed that she had caught onto how he played. Regina raised an eyebrow at him. Challenging him. Was this how he wanted her to play?

  Lord Harrison flicked his gaze over to Lady Cora. Then he looked back at Regina. His message was obvious: watch her.

  Regina went back to paying attention to Lady Cora.

  “I don’t see why you have to be so hung up on it,” Lord Quentin was saying.

  He was speaking to Lady Cora. Regina had completely lost track of the conversation. She had no idea what they were discussing.

  “I do not see why you are so hung up on staying here,” Lady Cora replied. Her voice was smooth, like velvet. But Regina thought she heard a hard core underneath it.

  Something about what they were discussing upset Lady Cora.

  “You could go to the continent and be quite content there,” Lady Cora went on. “Yet you insist on staying here where they will not accept you.”

  “You know such a thing would break my father’s heart,” Lord Quentin replied. “I must stay here as long as he is alive.”

  “He would not be nearly so fond of you if his wife had managed to give him heirs,” Lady Cora replied. The hardness in her voice was more evident now. “A dark-skinned bastard son is better than no son at all, I suppose.”

  “That was out of line,” Lord Harrison said. His tone was quiet but Regina felt a chill nevertheless. This was the dark side she’d glimpsed the night they had met. Lord Harrison using that tone was not to be disobeyed for the world.

  Lady Cora felt it as well. She seemed to shrink a little. “I apologize,” she said. “I did not mean to offend. I only wish to point out that Quentin cannot chastise me for my sins when his are similar.”

  “How on earth is fulfilling my father’s wishes the same thing as loving a woman you haven’t seen for ten years?” Lord Quentin replied.

  “Love makes fools of us all,” Miss Eliza pointed out. “Some would say I’m throwing away my chances.”

  “I do believe I’ve said that,” Lord Mannis commented.

  “Darling, if you try and be self-sacrificing again and tell me to leave you, I shall have to throw a very dramatic fit,” Miss Eliza said primly. She smiled sweetly at Lord Mannis.

  Regina could hardly keep up with the conversation. “I’m sorry?” She said. “Did you say a woman?”

  Everyone at the table turned and looked at her. Regina swallowed. She’d been rude again.

  “Yes,” Lady Cora said slowly. She turned back to look at her cards. “What’s the term they use for people like me?”

  “Deviant was a fun one,” Lord Mannis said.

  Lady Cora acknowledged it with a hum. “Where you admire a man, Miss Regina,” she told her, “I admire a woman. Society doesn’t like that.”

  Regina didn’t know what to think. Lady Cora seemed to embody everything a woman should be. She was elegant and poised. She was beautiful. She seemed quite educated.

  Lady Cora sighed. “If you’re going to start babbling about my going to Hell, child, I hope you will start sooner rather than later. I’m close to winning this hand.”

  “That’s what you think,” Lord Mannis grumbled, looking at his cards.

  “I don’t plan on lecturing you,” Regina replied. She didn’t think she was in a position to lecture anybody, about anything. She was hardly an expert on theology.

  “Lovely. Mannis, prepare to lose,” Lady Cora said. She laid down a card that made Mannis call her quite a few awful names.

  “I don’t understand,” Regina said. “You’ve been in love with one woman for ten years?”

  Lady Cora groaned. Miss Eliza giggled. “See, Cora, even she thinks you should move on.”

  “There is a lovely Frenchwoman,” Lord Quentin said, “Who’s acquaintance I have been fortunate enough to make. I’ve heard rumor she shares your inclinations. Lovely woman, hair like gold…”


  “You know full well I prefer redheads,” Lady Cora snapped. “And I shall not be set up.”

  “I’d offer up Miss Regina here but she’s too young for you,” Lord Harrison said.

  “And not interested,” Regina added. “I mean no offense, Lady Cora.”

  “Just Cora will do,” Cora said. “And none taken.”

  “You speak as though you haven’t already claimed her for yourself,” Lord Mannis said to Lord Harrison. He indicated Regina.

  Regina felt her face flushing. She looked at Lord Harrison. He looked as though someone had dumped cold water on his head.

  “Miss Regina is my cousin,” he reminded Lord Mannis.

  “And I’m going to live to be a hundred,” Lord Mannis countered. “Good lord, you think we can’t tell when you’re lying?”

  “You can tell us who you really are,” Miss Eliza said gently. “We won’t tell anyone. We’re hardly in a position to judge.”

  “She’s not here because of me,” Lord Harrison said. For the first time since Regina had met him, he sounded wrong-footed.

  “Lying is unbecoming,” Cora said. She was still looking at her cards. “You two make a perfectly lovely couple, Harrison. I don’t see why you flounder so.”

  Regina wanted to say that they were certainly not a couple. But the words were stuck in her throat. She was so shocked she couldn’t speak. They thought she and Lord Harrison were—like Lord Mannis and Miss Eliza?

  “Now that we’ve all got that out in the open,” Lord Quentin said, “Where are you from, Miss Regina?”

  Regina looked at Lord Harrison. She still couldn’t manage to form words so she hoped he would notice her soundless plea for guidance.

  Lord Harrison looked at her. His gaze was dark and surprisingly protective. “Rather bad luck here, Puck.” The nickname made her feel warm inside. Like it was his way of telling her she was safe.

  “Her father is Lord Hartfield,” he said. His eyes didn’t leave Regina’s as he spoke. “She’s the youngest of his five daughters.”

  Cora finally looked up from her cards. “I do know you,” she said. There was an odd note in her voice. “Oh, but you were just a child. You were seven when I last saw you. Or perhaps eight.”