The cards were cut, and Palmer, an acquaintance, had the highest card, making him the dealer. The goal was to reach twenty-one or under and beat the dealer. The suite didn’t matter.
Palmer dealt the first card to the other seven players. Everyone but the dealer could view his card. Will had a nine. A minimum bet of twenty pounds and a maximum of fifty was set. Will bet fifty. Bell bet the minimum.
After all the players placed their bets, Palmer dealt the second card. Will viewed his card—a jack. His cards now equaled nineteen. The dealer did not have a pontoon, two cards equaling twenty-one. Each player had the opportunity to add cards. When it was Will’s turn, he said stick, because the odds of going over were great. This meant he couldn’t add to his stake, but he knew staying the course was important.
Bell viewed his cards and said, “I’ll buy one.” He increased his stake by another twenty pounds, for a total of forty.
The dealer’s hand went over twenty-one. “Paying on nineteen,” he said. Will showed his cards. No one had a pontoon, two cards equaling twenty-one, or a five-card trick, five cards totaling twenty-one. Either of those situations would have meant the dealer had to pay double the stakes. Will was satisfied with his initial win of fifty pounds. Bell won forty pounds.
Will memorized the previously played cards as the dealer added them to the bottom of the deck without shuffling as the game required. Remembering the cards out of play was a critical part of Will’s strategy. His sharp memory made all the difference, as it gave him an enormous advantage.
Palmer dealt the first card in the next game. Will had a four. The minimum increased to fifty and the maximum to seventy. Will absently sipped his brandy and bet sixty. Bell bet the minimum.
Will’s next card was an eight. He bought one card equal to his initial stake, the minimum the game required, for sixty pounds again. When he lifted the card, he kept his expression shuttered. It was a ten, meaning he’d gone over and lost. Momentary disappointment needled him, but he could take this single loss in stride.
Bell won fifty.
In the next round, the stakes increased to a minimum of seventy and a maximum of ninety. Will viewed his first card—a nine. He bet ninety. Bell bet seventy. Will glanced at his friend sideways. Bell probably meant to play conservatively all night.
Will downed his brandy. The second card was a three. He bought a card, for ninety. The third card was a seven, putting him at nineteen.
Bell bought another card at seventy. The dealer paid out on nineteen. Will bit back a satisfied smile as he’d won one hundred and eighty.
Bell lost seventy pounds and threw in his cards. “I’m done.”
“It’s early yet,” Will said.
“I’m ahead by twenty. I’ve had enough.”
Will shrugged and signaled a waiter for another glass of brandy.
Bell leaned toward him. “Keep your wits about you.”
“Go on, then.” Will turned his attention back to the table. After three games, he was up one hundred and ten.
During the next five games, Will found himself up and down. The stakes kept rising, but his winnings now consisted of a mere twenty pounds. For a moment, he thought of Bell’s words. Get out while you’re ahead. No, he wouldn’t quit now. There was never any certainty, but he had plenty of stamina left. When this night ended, he intended to walk away a very rich man.
The dealer changed hands. After several minutes of negotiation, Palmer sold the bank to Lord Hunter. For some odd reason, the hair at Will’s nape stiffened. He told himself to ignore the weird sensation and concentrate on the game.
Hunter dealt the cards. Will was aware of the waiter topping up his glass. He sipped and glanced at his card. He had a seven. The stakes were set at a minimum of one thousand and a maximum of three thousand. Will placed an initial bet of one thousand. Two chairs down, Yarborough, a portly man of middle years, bet two thousand and mopped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Will cut his gaze away, unable to watch a nervous player. It made him edgy.
He took another drink. His blood was pumping fast as he viewed the second card. It was a five, putting him at a total of twelve. For a moment, he wrestled with the decision of whether to buy one more card. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t question it, and that got under his skin. Deuce take it. He wasn’t superstitious like most gamblers. Strategy and a good memory were all he needed. Will glanced at Hunter briefly. “I’ll buy another—one thousand again.”
Will’s heart thumped as he lifted the card. It was a seven, putting him at nineteen. Hunter went over twenty-one and paid out on nineteen. Will’s winnings now stood at two thousand and twenty pounds.
His excitement increased as he memorized the cards that were out of play. He could practically feel the win coming. Hunter dealt the cards. Will’s first card was an eight. The bet was set at a minimum of two thousand and a maximum of four. Will bet two thousand and forced himself to focus on the play and not the money. His second card was a three. Will downed the remainder of his brandy and bought a card, for two thousand again. His mouth felt a bit dry as he viewed the card. That card was a ten. He’d gone bust. Will slowly inhaled. He was right back at two thousand and twenty pounds.
For a moment, he considered quitting, but he needed a big win if he wished to gain his freedom from his family. Will was confident the tide would turn soon.
The waiter brought Will a new glass of brandy. He sipped it and realized he was a bit foxed, but he still had his wits about him.
In the next round of play, Will viewed his first card—a three. He bet the minimum of two thousand. His second card was a five. Will bought another card. It was a five. He bought a third one for two thousand again—a four. Tension rippled all around him as his fellow players must have sensed Will was on a roll. He forced himself to concentrate, but damn, his mouth was as dry as dust. He bought another card for two thousand, putting him at a total of ten thousand pounds, including his previous win of two thousand. Will could almost hear those around him holding their breath as Hunter dealt the card.
A trickle of sweat beaded down the back of Will’s neck. It was a four. He struggled not to show his triumph, but the devil take it, he wanted to shout it to the roof. A five-card trick meant the dealer paid double. He exposed his cards, certain he’d won twenty thousand pounds and his freedom this night.
Hunter turned up an ace and a king, a pontoon that trumped Will’s hand.
A collective gasp went up. Voices erupted all around him, but he heard nothing. Will felt as if he were floating above himself and watching the disaster unfold. His ears buzzed like a bee. He had to pay Hunter double his stakes. Twenty thousand pounds.
Hunter told everyone to lower their voices, reminding them of the rules of playing. Will could see the undisguised elation on the man’s face. He wanted to hate him, but all he felt was numb.
He forced himself to finish his brandy and smiled. “Gentlemen, I’m out.”
When he rose from the table, he nearly stumbled. The copious amount of brandy he’d drunk made it all seem unreal. He walked unsteadily over to Hunter and somehow managed to scrawl out a vowel for the debt. God only knew where he would get the money to pay it.
Bell strode over to him. “What the deuce? I heard the news.”
“Not here,” he said.
He was in a daze and more than a little foxed as he carefully negotiated the stairs. A servant at the door helped him into his coat. Bell led him outside. When Will dropped his gloves, Bell retrieved them. “Steady, old boy. My carriage will be here shortly.”
When it arrived, Bell managed to shove him inside.
Will closed his eyes, and his last thought was that he’d lost.
Someone shook his shoulder. Will’s mouth was as dry as a desert. His head felt as if someone were pounding on it like a drum. Disoriented, he opened his eyes to find Bell staring at him. His friend wore a banyan robe over his shirt and trousers.
“How did I get here?” Will croaked.
“You don’t reme
mber?” Bell said.
“No.” Will sat up, leaned forward, and held his head in his hands. He was in his shirtsleeves.
“My valet managed to get you out of your coat and waistcoat before you passed out on the sofa.”
“I was roaring drunk.”
Bell walked over to the sideboard and returned to him with a cup of tea. “It’s not very hot, but you’re bound to be thirsty.”
Will drank the tepid tea. “What time is it?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
The bell rang. Will felt as if it were clanging inside his head.
A few minutes later, Fordham entered the drawing room and collapsed on a chair. “You look like the devil, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”
Bell sat in the other armchair. “Do you recall what happened at the gaming table?”
“I lost twenty thousand bloody pounds I don’t have,” Will said.
“You’ve got to make a decision quickly,” Bell said. “The debt has to be paid.”
“I suppose I could escape to the Continent. I wouldn’t be the first or the last.”
“Be reasonable,” Bell said. “You’ve got no money. A new geographic location isn’t the answer. You’ll be among strangers. How will you live?”
Will sat back. “What else am I to do?”
“Let me take care of the debt,” Bell said.
“No, I can’t let you.”
“You don’t have the blunt,” Bell said. “Hunter isn’t going to forgive the twenty thousand.”
Bell had inherited an enormous fortune. Will didn’t know the extent of his friend’s wealth, but Bell had described it as obscene. Though he was tempted, Will didn’t want to take advantage of their friendship. “I appreciate your offer, but I don’t know how I would ever be able to repay you.”
“Your brother is bound to hear about it,” Bell said.
“Not for a fortnight at least,” Will said. “He went to Devonshire to meet with his man of business. When he returns, I’ll have to ask him to pay it.” He huffed. “What’s one more black mark?”
Bell folded his arms over his chest. “I imagine that will come with strings attached.”
He would spend years working as his brother’s steward to repay him. “I don’t have any other option.”
“There is one other way out of your predicament,” Fordham said. “You won’t like the idea, but it is an alternative.”
Will looked inquiringly at Fordham. “Well, what is it?”
Bell snorted. “You must be in really bad shape if you can’t guess.”
“You mean marry an heiress?” Will said.
“There are worse fates,” Fordham said.
Will shook his head. “No, absolutely not. I’ve got enough meddling relatives. The last thing I want is a wife making demands.”
“Marry a mouse,” Bell said. “Pick someone who is too timid to raise objections. Wait a few months, and by then, she’ll be relieved when you take that journey to the Continent.”
It was the first time Will had thought of Bell as cold-blooded. “Who would let a devil like me marry their daughter?”
Bell shrugged. “The lady and her family benefit as well. She marries into a prominent family, and you pay back your debt. No one will bat an eye if you make a marriage of convenience, but if you fail to pay the debt, you lose your honor.”
“No, there’s got to be another way.” If only his soaked brains would dry, he might think of a solution.
“If I were you, I’d have a look at the wallflowers. They’re desperate, and you’re a prize,” Bell said.
“Ironically, marriage is your ticket out of England,” Fordham said.
Men married for money all the time. It was an accepted practice. “I won’t deceive an innocent lady and her family.”
“If you choose a lady who is dangerously close to being on the shelf, her family will likely be grateful,” Bell said. “They’ll know you’re marrying her for the money, but in return, she makes a respectable marriage. No lady wants to be a spinster; no one will respect her. Given the lady’s lack of prospects, she’ll probably be relieved.”
Bell had made it sound as if he’d be doing a wallflower a favor. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too long,” Bell said. “Hunter won’t wait forever, you know.”
“What about Lady Eugenia?” Fordham said. “She’s definitely in danger of being on the shelf, according to my sisters.”
“She’s Beaufort’s sister. He’d kill me if I even looked at her,” Will said. “You know friends’ sisters are off-limits.”
“What about that tall redhead? The one who is bosom friends with Lady Georgette,” Fordham said. “Does she have any brothers?”
“How would I know?” Will said.
“She’s been out for several years and is accounted a wallflower,” Bell said. “I don’t recollect any brothers. Isn’t she a friend of your sister-in-law?”
“Yes,” he said.
“It should be relatively easy to gain an introduction,” Bell said.
Fordham grinned. “Congratulations. We found you a bride.”
Will scowled. “Trust me. Miss Hardwick is the one woman who wants nothing to do with me.”
Fordham and Bell exchanged amused glances.
“What?” Will said irritably.
“You like challenges. She’s a challenge,” Bell said.
“Even better, her father is rich,” Fordham said. “My sister said she has fifty thousand pounds.”
Temptation gripped him. But he couldn’t imagine how he would ever persuade Red to marry him. First off, he’d better stop calling her Red, since she didn’t like it. He had managed to charm her a little in the library. But if he suddenly showed up with a posy, she would be suspicious. “There’s a problem,” he said. “I don’t have enough time to court her properly.”
“So make it a whirlwind courtship,” Bell said.
Will scrubbed his bristly jaw. “She’s too clever. When she figures out I’m only interested in her money, she’ll give me the cut direct.”
“There’s one way to ensure she’ll marry you,” Fordham said. “Compromise her.”
Bell whistled. “Who better than the devil to pull that off?”
“You’ve both gone mad,” Will said.
“Your family is already pressing you to wed,” Fordham said. “When they find out about the debt, they’ll realize they’ve got the upper hand. You’ll end up married anyway.”
“God, I’ve mucked things up.” He’d stupidly let his greed overcome his better judgment, but he’d been so certain he’d win. In truth, he’d never faced a serious setback before. This was much worse than a setback; it was a bloody debacle.
“You’ve got two choices,” Bell said. “Apply to your brother or marry the heiress. Which will it be?”
No matter what he did, he’d end up a blackguard, but then he already was one. He might as well do it on his own terms. Will blew out his breath and met Bell’s gaze. “Marriage,” he said.
Bell nodded. “I’ll let Hunter know you expect to come into the funds soon.”
Thirty minutes later, Will got out of a hackney. A fine mist dampened his greatcoat and the chill made him feel worse as he trudged up the walk to Ashdown House. When he reached the bottom horseshoe step, a pitiful cry alerted him. He looked behind one of the giant bushes and saw a kitten. The scrawny thing bleated repeatedly. Will squatted and held out his hand. “Scared?” he murmured.
The kitten backed up a bit and continued to cry.
“There’s no one to take care of you.” He used to collect stray dogs and cats when he was young. For some odd reason, he thought of all the times his family forgot about him when he was a boy. They were all so busy. He was the youngest, and often shuffled off to the nurse, the usual aristocratic method of dealing with brats. He remembered wishing he had a brother close to his age.
When he was five, they’d left him at church. It was one of the family’s favorite stories.
They hadn’t even missed him, until the rector had returned him home. His father had thought it funny. His mother had wept, and naturally everyone had gone to console her. None of them had known he’d been sad and a little scared, but that was a long time ago.
Will scooped up the cat and strode up the steps. “Hush, Poppet. I’ll keep you safe.”
He wrapped his coat over the damp kitten, but Poppet continued to cry. He figured it was hungry. “I’ll get you some cream in the kitchen,” he murmured.
Jones, the fastidious butler, wrinkled his nose when Will handed Poppet to him. The kitten had gray fur and white paws. “He smells a bit from the wet,” Will said as he shrugged out of his greatcoat.
Jones examined the kitten. “It’s a she,” he said in a disapproving tone.
Will retrieved the crying kitten, and Jones wiped his hands with his handkerchief. “I’ll call a footman to deal with the animal.”
“No, I’ll take care of her.” He didn’t want Poppet to be shooed out of the way of the busy servants. So he strode off toward the back stairs. “Little girl, let’s get you some nourishment.”
When he walked into the kitchen, he startled Cook and the maids. They hastily curtsied and stared at him as if he’d grown a pair of horns. “I found her. She’s hungry.”
Cook smiled. “I’ll get her a bowl of cream and mash up a bit of fish.”
Will squatted and watched as Poppet lapped up her meal. Afterward, the kitten stretched out on the flagstone. Obviously, she was exhausted.
One of the maids produced a basket lined with old newspapers. She curtsied. “You can leave her here, sir. We’ll see to her.”
He shook his head. “I’ll take her with me and bring her back tomorrow morning.” He put Poppet in the basket and carried her to his bedchamber.
After setting her near the fireplace for warmth, he sat on the carpet and petted her. He figured his morose mood stemmed from last night’s loss and would pass. In truth, he felt a bit sheepish for even thinking about the time his family left him at church. Good Lord, the massive amount of brandy he’d drunk had clearly made him gloomy—that and the monstrous debt.
How to Ravish a Rake Page 5