Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

by Claudy Conn

  Ben dropped the little white ball into the spin of the wheel, and both men watched as it took its time, clanking and teasing the eyes of those who had placed bets on its fall.

  “You … I believe, have chosen unwisely …” Ben cautioned. The ball landed on number seven. He called it out and motioned for Silas to collect for the house, looking meaningfully at Omsbury as Silas’s hooked stick made them aware of Omsbury’s loss.

  Omsbury frowned darkly. He did not like to lose at anything. “This is paltry … and, I assure you, means nothing. I shall not lose my main goal.”

  “And … why bring this up to me?”

  “Because you and the object of my goal are close … and …”

  “Damn you to hell! Are you suggesting that I help you?”

  “I can make things difficult for you … or I can forgive the notes—just like that, the moment she says yes to me …”

  “What you are suggesting would bring down a dark cloud over my house, and I will not do that,” he said, his meaning clear.

  Omsbury chewed his lips for a moment. He knew full well the extent of friendship the Clays and the Henshaws enjoyed. He knew there was nothing romantic to be feared, and yet, jealousy goaded his temper.

  However, the advantage he held was that he knew Jewelene’s soft heart was in this. She would not allow herself to stand by and watch Ben Clay lose everything!

  “I know you would not do so willingly … but times suggest you have no choice.” Omsbury laid another heavy bet on the board. “You see, Clay … I continue the game.”

  “And, my lord,” said Ben in a low, hard tone, “experience and experts advise that the odds are with the house.”

  Omsbury had walked into that one, but he just smirked and thought to himself, We shall see, Ben Clay, we shall see.

  *

  Jewelene tried to maintain her composure and keep her mind on the cards. The win for the house was astounding, and she couldn’t believe how much Ryker was putting on the table and happily losing. He didn’t seem interested in the game or its outcome, but he kept on betting … Oh no, she thought desperately. Is he a gambler like Father? Had she fallen for the same kind of man her father had been?

  She couldn’t see Ben and Omsbury as they conversed, and she thought her body might begin to visibly twitch she was so nervous. Then things went from bad to worse, so much worse.

  Her hand fluttered on its path to her forehead, and she felt dizzy once more. She had thought she heard his voice, but she had been unwilling to believe her ears. It couldn’t be. He didn’t like gaming—he never visited the Silver Heart …

  It just couldn’t be—but it was … Jimmy! Horrified, she watched Sir James, arm in arm with his crony, Arthur Salford, walk in upon them. She might be able to fool the world, but she would never be able to fool her brother!

  Jewels felt herself blanch, and one hand gripped the table edge for support. She knew Jimmy, and he might just blurt out enough to bring Omsbury’s attention to them. She had to escape; there was nothing for it—she had to get away before he spotted her.

  “What is it? What is wrong …?” Ryker had her elbow. “Are you ill—speak to me, love … what is it?”

  “I … oh, oui, monsieur … I feel overly warm … faint …” She turned her back toward her brother and called to her lookout boy, “Jem, eh … you will take zee table for me …”

  Young Filey jumped to his feet. “Allow me to escort you.”

  “No, me!” shouted his friend, Hill.

  Ryker cast them a superior eye. “She already has escort—down, boys …” He took her arm to lead her away.

  She could just see from beneath her lashes that Jimmy and Arthur had moved to the black ombre table.

  Ryker’s gaze followed her own, and she thought she saw something flicker in his gray eyes as he looked at Jimmy. Probably, she told herself, he was surprised to see her young brother in the Silver Heart—although he didn’t think it was her brother; he Jewelene’s brother … oh faith, this was getting to be too much. What a web—of her own making!

  Babette led Ryker down the hall to a gilt-molded door that opened into Ben’s office chamber. She turned at the portal and attempted a dismissal. “Merci, m’sieur, you were so good … now I think … I shall just lie down for a spell.” She was going to don her buckskin clothes and get the deuce out of there as fast as she could.

  He moved with her into the room so very adroitly, gently maneuvering her towards the sofa. “Ah, but what sort of knave do you take me for? Leave a damsel in distress?” Ignoring her protests he added, “Lie back, Babette—and close your eyes … I’ll just pour you a glass of brandy.”

  She did as he suggested, hoping he would go away once he saw her comfortably resting. However, she opened her eyes to find him sitting over her, and her body trembled with fear. He would discover who she was before she had an opportunity to confess.

  “There’s the good girl …” he said, putting the brandy to her lips. “Take off the mask so you can breathe easier …”

  Their eyes met, and she felt a sudden strange, almost suffocating sensation. He was going to kiss her and break her heart—completely. He would be kissing Babette—not her. At this moment in time, on top of everything else, he was going to shatter her into pieces she would never be able to put back together again. He definitely looked as though he were about to kiss Babette!

  The door at his back opened, and a voice snapped, “What is going on here, Ryker?”

  Ryker slowly, casually got to his feet and faced Ben. “Babette was not feeling well, and it is no wonder … with all that she had to deal with this evening. What confounds me is how you have allowed it.”

  Ben frowned, looked at Babette, and said, “I am here now and shall attend to both Babette and anything that happened to upset her—after all, the lady is in my care.”

  “Is that so? And here I thought, Ben, that your heart belonged to another …” Ryker said smoothly as he watched Ben’s face take on color..

  Jewel’s mouth dropped as she watched Ryker in action. She looked daggers at Ben for taking on this new lie. “Well, zees eez zo complicated …” she started. “Ben … we … are zee good friends … oui … mais … no more … is zees not so, Ben?” She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she couldn’t have Ryker think she and Ben were more than friends … not after their afternoon together, and then she remembered she was Babette. Oh, she was getting confused.

  “I would like a few moments with my faro dealer, my lord …” Ben said stiffly, and it was obvious he had picked his words carefully.

  Ryker inclined his head and turned to Babette. “I will be awaiting your return … and never be but a shout away. Understood?”

  “Merci,” she said softly as he left the office. How could he be so lovingly devoted to Babette and have taken her so ferociously only that day?

  “Ramshackle, tumbledown chit!” Ben sighed as he touched her shoulder. “Your brother is out there right now listening to tales of the masked faro beauty.” However, the words were no sooner out before he immediately said, “Forgive me … it is all my fault. You are but a child … with too much on your shoulders … and I should never have allowed you to enter into this scheme.”

  Jewelene looked at him, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I have made a devastating mess of everything …”

  “No—this is not on you, Jewels. You are a woman—you should have been planning your wedding … instead, you have been trying to hold things together for two families. And Ryker … did you hear him? It was as though he knew …”

  “No … he calls me Babette … he doesn’t know.” She sniffed.

  “Yes, but … there was something …” He shook his head. “At any rate, we must get you out of here at once.”

  Twelve

  “JIMMY! WHERE HAVE you been, you young pup?” Filey cried, jumping to his feet and slapping Sir James soundly on the back. They were only a few years apart in age, Filey being the elder, and they had on several occ
asions enjoyed one another’s company at a local spot or two. “And, Art, old boy … good to see you. But this isn’t one of your haunts … is it? What’s to do?”

  Sir James smiled good-naturedly. “Art and I are off in the morning for the mainland, and he had this ‘feeling’ that he might win against that nasty little ball over there—” He nodded towards the E.O. table. “—thereby adding to his already plump pockets.”

  “Well then, go to it, my friend, and better stick to the table, for you don’t stand a chance at faro.”

  “No, that I don’t … that’s why I never play the game,” agreed young Arthur. He was tall and lean with a shock of unruly brown hair and uncoordinated clothing, but he came from good stock, and his disposition made him in general a favorite among the local ton.

  Jimmy looked towards the faro table where a young boy dealt. “What’s towards there …”

  “Oh not him, Jimmy,” Filey said contemptuously. “He deals well enough, but there ain’t nothing to match Babette!”

  “Babette? Who the deuce is she?”

  “French beauty with raven hair and green eyes … at least, I think they are green—hard to tell with that devilish mask she wears …”

  “Mask?” Jimmy laughed. “If that don’t beat all. Damned bunch of twiddle-poops, each and every one bothering your heads about a woman in a mask! Ha!” He looked up and saw Ryker coming towards them and said, “Arthur … come along, want you to meet m’houseguest … nice chap—you’ll like him.”

  *

  Ryker looked up as he moved away from Ben Clay’s office. He was deep in thought, but as he saw Jimmy coming towards him, he smiled. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that Jimmy was not only a stranger to the Silver Heart but to Jewelene’s mad scheme. However, things were moving out of the game and into serious business. He could not allow this to go on. Tomorrow morning he was pulling the plug on little Babette!

  “Ryker!” Jimmy called jovially. “Want you to meet my good friend …”

  Introductions were made, and Ryker inclined his head. “Didn’t think you had the heart for gaming, Jimmy?”

  Sir James snorted. “Not the heart, nor the blunt, not here for that. Art thought he would have a go at the E.O. table before we hurry back to his place. Leaving from the harbor in the morning … going to the mainland—Portsmouth.”

  “Are you?” Ryker inquired casually. A slight worry tickled his brain. Why would Jimmy leave his sister with houseguests unless he was about to embroil himself in something portentous and probably ill-advised?

  “Ay, have a bit of business to conclude … hmm … upcoming race n’all, private matter, sticky too—although nothing havey-cavey, mind … but …” Arthur said gravely.

  “Mummer it, Art!” snapped Sir James, glaring at his friend. He smiled apologetically at Ryker. “Good fellow, Arthur, but a sad rattle.” Again he eyed his friend as though daring him to object to this. Arthur smiled blankly, and Sir James shook his head. “Well, that’s it then. Couldn’t leave without … well, there you are, Ben!”

  Ben grinned, but his voice when he spoke held a note of disapproval that was not lost on Ryker. “Jimmy, good to see you, though I ain’t pleased to see you here!”

  “Eh? Oh, worried about m’losing m’ready to your house?” Jimmy said with a chuckle, obviously not at all affronted. “Don’t fratch over it, Ben. Have no mind or hand for chancy ways. And besides not the sort to put you into the suds with Jewelene, who would have m’head …”

  “And mine,” agreed Ben, laughing. “Then what are you doing here? And don’t be putting the blame on poor Arthur.” He reached out and patted Art’s shoulder. “How are you, lad?”

  Arthur advised him that he was pretty stout, and Ben turned once again to Jimmy. “Well then, Jimmy—so what are you doing here?”

  “Bid thee fare thee well …” Jimmy grinned.

  “What’s this …?”

  “Portsmouth … business,” Arthur supplied portentously.

  “Never mind,” Jimmy hurriedly interjected.

  Ben stayed him. “Why—why Portsmouth now?”

  Jimmy glanced at Ryker and blushed. Ryker inclined his head. “Shall I give you some privacy?”

  “No, no. Right one you are … Here is the thing.” he sighed. “I’m depending on Jewelene to do without me this week …” He seemed to stumble over his words as he looked at both older men. “Have to manage the entrance fee—all important. Can’t allow Jewels … well … have to go, that is the long and the short of it. Yawl leaves first thing in the morning …” He turned to his friend. “Come on, Art …” Jimmy said, waving himself and his friend off as he pulled on Arthur’s sleeve.

  Ryker stood stock still, his lashes shading his eyes as he noted the sway of the straw-colored drapery partition between their gaming room and the next. He inched forward, which allowed him to look casually around the room as he inconspicuously moved into a position in which he could watch. He was able to get a glimpse of the man quietly moving away from the drapery that had previously hid him so well.

  Ryker said nothing as he turned to Ben and put a lazy finger to his lips and eyed Omsbury’s back.

  Ben followed the line of his glance, and his own eyes opened wide. The two men exchanged a telling look. “Where is she?” Ryker asked on a whisper.

  “She? You mean Babette …?” Ben stalled.

  “You know who I mean. The time for games is done, things no longer are what they were, and we need to make immediate arrangements …”

  “I don’t know what you …”

  “Come now, Ben—do you take me for a fool?”

  “No … I—”

  “To your office then—now.” Ryker led the way, not bothering to look to see if Ben Clay followed. He knew that he would, for Ben was no fool either.

  *

  Jimmy called out to Ben, and Omsbury’s head turned with interest. He then thought it prudent to take up position behind the drapery partition between the gaming rooms and fiddle with his snuffbox so as to look casual.

  He patted himself on the shoulder for being as ever sharply intuitive. He had known that Jimmy, who was not a gambler, would not be here without a reason and was more than curious to find out what that reason was. Unhappily, he learned just enough to concern him, but at least now he had a drop on the upcoming situation.

  So then, Jimmy was leaving for Portsmouth, and apparently he and his friend had a plan. He didn’t like that. Further eavesdropping on Arthur’s disjointed eloquence told him that the Henshaws meant to enter a horse at Derby.

  Could they win? Jewelene was a knowing one. She had a way with prime blood and an eye for them as well. She wouldn’t risk the entrance fee unless her horse stood more than a good chance.

  Omsbury had, in fact, noticed a stallion going through his paces on a recent visit to Henshaw. Damn, but he didn’t like this. He wanted Jewelene under his thumb, not making money enough to bolster her independence. Something had to be done.

  A moment later he had taken up his hat and greatcoat and left the Silver Heart having dropped quite a bundle at the table. He made his way to the livery, where he took his horse, didn’t bother to tip the poor young livery boy, mounted his horse, and made his way home.

  A fury of thought had him nearly foaming at the mouth. He was so close to victory, to winning what he wanted. Some (if they knew) would say he wasn’t winning, because he was forcing her hand, but he damn well didn’t care how he got Jewelene for his own. He wanted her, and that was all that mattered.

  Afterwards, he would make her care for him. He was not without charm when he wished to use it … and he meant to use it on her once she was his.

  In the meantime, Sir James and his friend Arthur needed to be tripped up. Their plan must not succeed. He had never before arranged to physically harm another. His methods usually entailed the pen and the weapon of money. However, he was desperate, and he was not above stooping to any level to get to his goal.

  Arriving at his stables, he sh
outed out towards the small room above, near the hayloft, calling for his head groom, “Jenkins! Jenkins—get your sorry ass down here!”

  And when the man didn’t appear, he shouted out even more furiously, “Fiend seize your soul! Jenkins, I say!”

  A wiry little man with small, dark eyes and a shock of unruly grayish hair appeared at the top of the wooden steps. He was slipping into his brown wool knit sweater, holding onto his short wool coat and rubbing his eyes. “Aye, m’lord … aye … I’m ’ere, I am.”

  Omsbury waited for him to take the last of the steps and stand before him. The pale light of a wall torch glowed, giving an eerie appearance to the spotless stable. “I have a job for you and need you to get started immediately. Get my lazy seamen up and my sloop out as soon as possible. I want you docked in Portsmouth by dawn, and then, Jenkins, I have a special assignment for you … with a bonus if you get the job done right.”

  “Aye, m’lord. Trust me to do as ye wishes,” Jenkins said, rubbing his grizzled chin.

  “I trust you to do what will get you a pretty fee,” Omsbury said with total disdain.

  Jenkins said nothing to this, but his eyes were alert as he waited for his lordship to continue.

  “After you dock, I want you to keep a lookout for the yawl arriving from Yarmouth. It should dock anytime after eight o’clock. And then I want you to watch for two passengers, one who is known to you.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Sir James Henshaw …” Omsbury said quietly.

  Jenkins took a step backwards, a certain concern overtaking him. He frowned darkly as he regarded his lordship. “I’ll be needing a tidy sum if ye want me to do more than watch him.”

  “Then a tidy sum is what you will get.”

  *

  Jewelene put her horse away in the paddock, dropped off her saddle at the edge of their stables, and hurried to the kitchen’s back door. She had left a window open to climb through but didn’t bother. No one would be about. She found Caesar patiently awaiting her return on the kitchen’s plank floor. His tail thumped happily.