by Claudy Conn
She giggled. “’Tis a good thing I am not missish. Don’t fret it, Ben. They won’t be making those proposals to me—they will be making them to Babette.”
“Aye, but I don’t like it all the same …” He sighed. “I hope we only have to do this tonight …”
“According to my calculations, it will take three, maybe four times …”
“No … Jewels, it isn’t just the danger at the Heart—it’s the getting you here. The trick of getting you home with none the wiser …” He was shaking his head. “I’m sick over it.”
“Zees nothzing …” She tried to tease him.
“A gentleman wouldn’t do this to you,” he answered. “I am the worst of cads to allow you to do this …”
“No … we have our backs to the wall. We are dealing with a fiend … we are fighting fire with fire.”
“And there is another thing I won’t argue over. You are not riding home alone. I won’t have it, Jewels. I’ve made up my mind.”
“But, Ben …”
“You either agree to my accompanying you home … or this is over right this minute.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Oh,” she said with a sigh. “Very well.” With that she preceded him out of the room.
Patrons of the Silver Heart had already begun to arrive, and Jewelene could hear their jovial voices below. A ruddy individual of some size and a foreboding mien stood at the door of the first-floor entrance. His name was Angus, and there wasn’t an upstart, bruiser, or rum touch that could get past his knowing eye.
For the regulars of his employer’s exclusive gaming house he had a ready smile, for the newly initiated a penetrating gaze, and for Ben’s intimates, a private jest or two. And there wasn’t a man who passed the Silver heart’s portals who didn’t wish to have Angus’s approval.
Soon the first-floor hall was filled with sound of merriment as patrons enjoyed a round of brandy and greetings. Jewelene could hear them making their way to the second floor, where the gaming rooms were situated. Ben eyed her a moment as he went about his business. After all, this would certainly be an ordeal for his little Jewel—whether she would admit it or not. But he could see she was bearing up, steady as ever. He remembered how she had visited the Silver Heart dressed as a lad three years ago—looking for her father when her mother had fallen ill …
He would have been very much more concerned had he known her heart at that moment was doing flip flops and pounding ferociously enough she thought it was about to burst from her chest!
Steady, Jewels told herself, steady now. Beating Ben and Papa at Faro was not quite the same as taking on seasoned gamblers, now was it? No, but she knew the principles of the game, and she had her head on straight. Besides … gamesters drank and got fevered. She would not do either.
Good lord … here they come, she told herself as they arrived in droves.
“Egad!” exclaimed one happy young man as he entered the room and discovered at the head of the faro table a mysterious, raven-haired beauty in a mask. “Egad, I say!”
Babette responded with a French accent, “Ah … m’sieur …,” and pursed her lips.
The gentleman at his side immediately put up a gold-rimmed quizzing glass and then dropped it carelessly so it swung on its dark riband. “I surrender …” he offered, forgetting his friends at his side and going forward to display his intentions. “Take me …” he said, going down on one knee and reaching for Jewelene’s hand.
She pulled her hand away with a laugh. “Mais non, m’sieur, get up do … at once!”
“If it is your wish,” offered the gallant, “but tell me what I may do to please you, and I shall contrive to do it immediately.”
“Ah, mais oui, that she is easy. You will play and lose at my faro table … oui?” Jewels smiled naughtily.
“Done!” the gallant replied, pulling up a seat as did so many others.
“He can’t lose half as much as I!” said another.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen … come sit on either side of me, and I shall contrive to take as much as you are willing to lose … oui?” She was saucy, she was beautiful, and she thrilled them.
Her table was full, and her gentlemen were entranced. Her accent was perfection. It was some time before Jewelene looked up from her table and her flirting to find her heart flutter uncontrollably. She should have been prepared. She knew he would be here. How long had he been watching? He couldn’t know; indeed, from the manner in which he looked at her, he did not know. Ryker. After she had escaped his all-thrilling touch and hid in her room, she heard him go first to his chamber before he left the house. He must have forgotten something, and she had nearly been caught!
Ben, of course, brought her back to the present and saved the moment. He saw Ryker looking at Babette and called out as he went to block his view, and hopefully steer him to another gaming room, “Ryker … how good of you to stop by …”
Ryker turned his attention away from the raven-haired lovely and smiled amiably. “If I had known you had such a creature dealing your faro table, I assure you, sir, I would have come long ago. However, I see it won’t be easy to get a chair at her table!”
“Oh? Is faro your game?” Ben asked, trying to steer the conversation and hopefully the gentleman away from the object of his attention.
“As to that, ’tis écarté that holds my interest.”
“Hmm, écarté, is it? Well then, my friend, you are in luck. We have a game in the chamber across the hall. I believe there is already a spectator bet going on but plenty of room for another … shall I take you in?”
Ryker glanced towards the masked lovely. “Perhaps later … for the moment, I think I’ll try and work my way onto the faro table …”
“Very well, sir … but I give you fair warning—Babette is a wonder with the cards. Most of those poor fellows are already fairly done up …”
“I’ll bet they are!” Ryker chuckled. “The wonder is that they are losing and yet looking as pleased as punch.” He left Ben on that note and made his way towards the black-haired beauty to find her glancing up at him with a hesitant smile.
Audaciously, she thought, he inclined his head towards her, nearly touching her shoulder as he brought his eyes to meet her own through her mask.
She glanced away hurriedly. “Place your bets, messieurs …”
“I see there is no sitting room, mamselle … would you mind if I took up position here?”
“Mais non, eet eez imposseeble, m’sieur. You leave me … so tight.” She glanced at one of her worshippers. “Ah, Filey … make room, chéri …” She turned her eyes to Ryker. “There, m’sieur … you may squeeze in, oui?” Inwardly, Jewels was seething. Here he was, the man of the hour! Here he was, the man of her dreams … fresh from her kiss … her lips … from touching her, and what was he doing? He was flirting with a French naughty girl!
She could feel his eyes traveling over her, resting on the swells of her breasts at her tight, uplifting bodice, and she wanted to slap him hard. However, she chose instead to ignore him
“La, Filey …” The lady coquettishly laughed. “Do not fight with your good friend. You and Hill may both take me to zee suppair … oui?”
“No, I want you to myself …” declared the persistent Filey.
Jewels chuckled, but she was not given the opportunity to respond to this, for suddenly, and with an expertise that certainly deserved applause, she found herself taken up by the dashing, dark blonde-haired blade at her side. He scarcely gave the indignant youth a second glance as he said, “My trump, lads,” and led the masked beauty away.
Jewelene was unable to speak, did not in fact trust herself to do so. She had to be careful; she had to maintain her accent and her ‘Babette’ style. If she were to lose her temper she would have to do it in French. She got control and kept silent.
Ryker said after a moment, “You know your game well, mamselle. Have you been dealing faro at the Silver Heart long?”
“No, m’sieur … tonig
ht, she is my first …” Jewelene answered truthfully.
“My compliments to you on your first success, mamselle. Not only have you won for the house, but you have I am certain won a great many hearts tonight as well.”
“Moi, I have no interest in the hearts …”
“Only then in the game?”
“Have you a meaning?” She eyed him doubtfully. There was something in his tone that made her glance sharply at him. What was he hinting at?
“The mask … intrigues me—leaves me to wonder why?”
“It intrigues many … draws them to my table …” Jewelene breathed a sigh of relief. She had prepared an answer for this question.
“Ah of course,” he said dryly.
“And you …” she said, eyeing him saucily. “You are, ’ow do they say … oui, up to every rig. So eet eez posseeble under theez mask to capture zee interest because moi no longer ordinaire … n’est-ce pas?”
“No, you certainly are not ordinary in any fashion at all,” he answered on a chuckle. He bent his head and then said something low and darkly flirtatious. “And, my sweet, you haven’t covered up quite enough to make anyone believe that you are anything but what I see.” He paused and then added, “Ravishing …”
She found herself studying him, worrying about what he was suggesting, and then she realized it was just another flirtatious remark. Nothing else behind it. She laughed outwardly, but Jewelene felt a sure irritation race through her. She studied his face. He looked at her as though she were but a woman to be won, a woman he did not know. And her mind chastised him as a rogue and a rake. How had she allowed him to kiss her earlier? What a fool she had been to think he could … care for her.
“You … think I am ravishing because of zee mask,” she said. “The mask … it gives me the center stage … and the faro … it brings in zee money …” She shrugged. “One must live.”
“There are other ways of making a living …”
He took her breath out of her lungs, held it between them. Damn him for making her want him, want him to kiss her still over and over again. He was about to proposition Babette. She could hear it behind the words. How dare he? Oh, she wanted to kick him.
The anger she felt must have made its way to her eyes, for he said as she tried to control her temper, “Your green eyes glitter like emeralds and, beauty, you cannot hide behind a mask. Such green sparkles … no other has eyes like yours,” he whispered.
Oooh, she felt a hand itch to strike his face, but there was something odd in his tone, something more than flirtatious. What? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had kissed her only a short while ago, and now he wanted to kiss Babette!
“Non? My eyes are of course, my own.” Jewels wanted to steal his thunder and put him in his place. She eyed him coldly. Perhaps she could trip and step hard on his toes?
“And the freshness of your lovely skin …” he continued as though she had not aloofly dismissed his flirtation. His finger audaciously ran over her arm. “Makes me want to remove your mask in the privacy of my room—take off your clothes … and lay you back against dark, silken sheets …”
“And zee privacy … where would thiz be?” Her eyebrow was up in spite of herself, and what was that in his bright gray eyes—a twinkle? He was enjoying himself. Why? Because he enjoyed the chase, as did most rogues.
“Privacy can be at the inn—the White Stag. There I will wine you and dine you …”
She waved this away, and her hand made a gesture that forbade him from continuing this line.
She wanted to smack herself alongside her head for having dreamt of having this libertine. She wanted to tell herself over and over that he was not for her, that he was trying to seduce Babette after having only just …
She said coldly, “I think, m’sieur, that the lobster salad is reported to be quite delicious …” With that she slipped away from him and went directly to Ben. When next she turned around, it was to find Ryker was no longer there. She said furiously, “He is an odious … awful … libertine …”
Ben laughed. “Who, Ryker? Do you think so? He didn’t strike me as such, but you know, Jewels, if he propositioned you—well … let’s be fair … look at you … and where you are …”
“Yes, but, but, Ben … if a man … such as yourself … were interested in … in a young woman—and kissed her, and then he came to a place such as this … would he … would you … seduce a woman because she appeared pretty in a mask?”
Ben frowned. “What is this, Jewels? Just what is this?”
“Naught … I am not hungry … I think I will return to my table …”
Eight
IT WAS PAST three in the morning when Jewels was finally able to close down the faro table. Hurriedly she changed in Ben’s office, and then together they slipped away. Their movements they believed went unnoticed, and they were able to get their horses without hindrance.
The excitement of it all as they cantered across the fields engendered a wild laugh in them both, and they stopped for a moment to regain their poise.
“Dash it, girl!” Ben said amiably, “you are an incorrigible hoyden … that will never grow up!” He sighed as his chuckles were replaced with quiet. “You put me much in mind of your father.”
“Yes, I am every bit his child, but admit it, you horrid man, you have enjoyed this night’s work … and there is enough of my mother in me to save my soul.” Jewels laughed.
He looked at her for a long moment and sighed. “You enjoyed outwitting everyone, but I should be careful if I were you …”
“What do you mean?”
“That Ryker fellow is a knowing one—he had an odd look on his face when he was watching you …”
“Yes, he wanted to take me off and bed me!” She snorted.
Ben shook his head. “I suppose … but there was something else there …” He shrugged. “I suppose I am jittery because I see through the disguise and cannot understand how no one else does …”
“Lud, Ben—enough of the sour face. We did take in quite a sum tonight—much more than I had expected, so I shan’t have to do this more than two more times.”
“One more time will do it, and whether it does or not … one more time will do it. We will make up the difference if I have to start selling the paintings off the wall …”
She sighed. “You are making me blue. We are almost out of the suds, and no one knew who I was—not the marquis who wasn’t interested in me or faro, and not Ryker, who lost interest when I snubbed his offer …”
“That’s the rub—I mean really, Jewel. They will see you during the day now, after they have been with Babette, and you—she will seem familiar. It won’t take them long before they realize …”
She frowned. “Babette moves differently than I …” She pulled a face at him. “I made Babette’s walk purposely vulgar. Babette’s voice in French is different—sing song—but I do agree, you have a point … eventually a connection might be made … so one more time should do it.” She sighed heavily. “I have one piece of jewelry I have been loathe to part with—it was Mama’s emerald necklace. She scarcely wore it, said it was too heavy, but the sum it would bring if I sell it would cover the entrance fee, so what we rake in from faro would pay off Omsbury and we can be done.”
“I am so sorry, Jewels …” Ben reached over and touched her arm.
She shook her head. “’Tis only cold gems—my mother is in here.” She touched her heart.
They had reached Henshaw land, and she stopped her horse and said, “Now, don’t tell me you mean to see me to the door, especially when I have told you I don’t mean to use any doors …”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Very well, get thee home, minx!”
She clucked softly and urged her horse forward and into a trot. She had left her horse in the back paddock in the afternoon so the stable boy would know nothing of her coming and going, telling him she meant to leave her saddle on the hitching post for an early morning ride. She put her
gelding into the paddock, undid his bridle and saddle, and hoisted them onto the hitching post before quietly making her way towards the house.
*
“You were some cold customer, old boy.” Robby leaned forward in his saddle to adjust his seat. “You dropped money on that faro table without caring about the outcome!”
“Think I begrudge a few guineas when I’m after game?” said Ryker, his mind alive with his thoughts.
“Eh? The masked chit? Odd that … you don’t usually go for that sort …”
“Don’t I?” Ryker laughed.
“Well … as to that, you don’t get besotted by any sort that I know of, but from what I saw, you seemed, very nearly …” Robby stopped here and appeared to choose his words carefully. “Yes, very nearly … well, engrossed with her.”
“I find this Babette … intriguing,” Ryker answered, still grinning.
“Well, that is all good and fine, but when the deuce are we going to sit the family down and tell them we have been at a prank with our names? Have to do it soon, before it goes too far … besides, don’t want this Lyla chit fawning over me anymore. Time she switched and fawned over you!”
“Damn, and I thought you a friend. Don’t want her fawning over me either …” His lordship sighed. “But sorry, Robby, I did mean to tell them, but now … we can’t.”
“What … eh? Now … we can’t? Why?”
“Matters have changed.”
“Changed? Matters? How?” Robby was very distressed. He had desperately hoped they would put an end to their charade.
“You must trust me in this …”
“Is it because you are after this Babette chit? Well, you might as well forget it—I saw the little hellcat go into the office with that Clay fellow, and they left together. Fairly certain I saw them take the backstairs together.”
“Ah, stands to reason,” Ryker said thoughtfully.
“Does it bother you?”
“A bit, but it fits …”
“I’ll say it fits … but, what it has to do with our problem and why we shouldn’t tell the Henshaws who we are …”