by Jane Feather
"You'll find her in her drawing room."
Sally almost ran up the stairs, without a word of farewell. Marcus shook his head dismissively. He didn't object to Jack's wife, but she was a pretty widgeon with no conversation. Judith seemed to like her, though. Which was interesting, since he'd noticed that his wife didn't suffer fools gladly.
"Sally… why, whatever's the matter?" Judith jumped up at her sister-in-law's precipitate entrance.
"Oh, I have to talk to you." Sally grasped Judith's hands. "I don't know where to turn." Her eyes took in the other two women in the room. "Isobel, Cornelia… I'm at my wit's end."
"Good heavens, Sally." Isobel Henley examined a plate of sweet biscuits and took a macaroon. "Is it one of the children?"
"I wish it were as simple as that." Sally sat down on a sofa, gazing tragically around the room. Her usually merry blue eyes glittered with tears. She opened her reticule and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy scrap of handkerchief.
"Have some tea." Practically, Judith filled a teacup and passed it to her sister-in-law. Sally drank and struggled to pull herself together. She put the cup back on the table and took a deep breath.
"I've been racking my brains for three days until I think my head is about to explode. But I can't think what to do." The scrap of lace tore under her restless fingers.
"So tell us." Cornelia Forsythe leaned forward, patting Sally's hand reassuringly. Her lorgnette swung into her teacup, splashing her already slightly spotted gown. "Oh, dear." She dabbed ineffectually at the spots. "I was perfectly clean when I left the house."
Judith swallowed a smile. Cornelia was a large, untidy woman who never seemed in control of her dress, her possessions, her hair, the time, or her relationships. She was, however, possessed of a quick wit and an agile brain.
"I don't see how, unless you can put me in the way of acquiring four thousand pounds by tomorrow morning."
"Four thousand?" Judith whistled in the manner she'd picked up from Sebastian. "Whatever for?"
"Jeremy," Sally said. Her younger brother was an impoverished scapegrace. "I had to lend him four thousand pounds or he'd have been imprisoned for debt in the Fleet and now I have to get my money back. But what else could I have done?"
"Your husband?" Cornelia suggested.
Sally looked at Judith. "Jack might have helped him, but you know what Marcus thinks of Jeremy."
Judith nodded. Marcus had no tolerance for the dissipated excesses of young men with breeding and no fortune. He was inclined to declare that a career in the army was the answer for all such young fools. Either that, or politics. Judith didn't disagree with him. The reckless and undisciplined pursuit of pleasure was as alien to her as the man in the moon. However, saying so wouldn't help Sally at the moment.
"I suppose Marcus's advice to Jack is to let Jeremy suffer the consequences," Judidi said.
Sally nodded. "And in truth, I can't really blame him. Jeremy's always going to be wanting more."
"So, how did you furnish him with four thousand pounds?" Isobel brought the conversation back to the point as she took another macaroon. She had an inveterate sweet tooth, but, much to Judith's amusement, even Isobel's lamentable fondness for ratafia couldn't sugar her tongue.
"I pawned the Devlin rubies," Sally said flatly.
Isobel dropped her macaroon to the carpet. "You did what?"
Judith closed her eyes for a minute, absorbing the full enormity of this.
Sally continued in a voice devoid of expression. "I didn't know what else to do. Jeremy was desperate. But Marcus has asked for them. Jack thinks they're being cleaned."
"Why has Marcus asked for them?" Judith asked.
Sally looked at her sister-in-law as if the answer were self-evident. "Because they're yours, Judith."
"Mine?"
"You're the Marchioness of Carrington. The Devlin jewels are rightfully yours. Marcus only loaned them to me… although no one expected him to marry, so I thought…" Her voice died.
A silence fell as her three companions contemplated the situation. "What a pickle," Cornelia said finally. "You should have had them copied."
"I did," Sally said. "But the copy won't fool Carrington."
"No," Judith agreed, thinking about her husband's sharpness of eye and intellect. "I suppose I could say I don't like rubies and I'm quite happy for you to keep them… But no, that won't work. Marcus is still going to want to see them."
She stood up and walked around the room, thinking. There was one way to help Sally. It was risky. If Marcus found out, what little accord they had would be destroyed. But she could do it, and surely, if you had the means to help a friend, then you were honor bound to do so. At least, by her code of honor.
"When must you redeem them, Sally?"
"Jack said he wanted to return them to Marcus tomorrow." Sally wrung her hands. "Judith, I feel so terrible… as if I stole something that belonged to you."
"Oh, nonsense!" Judith dismissed this with a brisk gesture. "I don't give a tinker's damn for rubies. Your brother needed help and you gave it to him." This she understood as an absolute imperative. "I only wish you'd said something earlier. It'll be noticeable if I win such a sum in one evening. I would much prefer to have won it over several occasions. It looks rather singular to be spending the entire evening in the card room playing only for high stakes."
"What are you saying? I know you're fond of gaming, but-"
"Oh, it's a little more than that," Judith said. "I'm actually very skilled at cards."
"I had noticed." Cornelia surveyed Judith through her lorgnette. "You and your brother."
"Our father taught us," Judith said. Even in this company, she wasn't prepared to expand on her background. "We were both apt pupils and I enjoy it."
"But I don't fully understand…" Sally said hesitantly.
"If I went to Mrs. Dolby's card party this evening, I could probably win such a sum," Judith explained succinctly. "And it would draw no attention in such a place."
"But you can't play on Pickering Street, Judith." Isobel was shocked. The widow Dolby's card parties were notorious for their enormously high stakes and loose company.
"Why not? Many women do."
"Yes, but they're generally considered fast."
"Sebastian will escort me. If I go in my brother's company, there should be no gossip."
"What about Carrington?"
"There's no reason why he should discover it," Judith said. "It will serve very well. There's bound to be a table for macao." She smiled at Sally. "Cheer up. You will redeem the rubies in the morning."
"But how can you be so confident?"
"Practice," Judith said a touch wryly. "I have had a great deal of practice."
They left soon after, Sally looking a little more cheerful. Judith's confidence was infectious, although it was difficult to trust in such a promise of salvation.
Judith stood frowning in the empty salon. Since her marriage, she'd played only socially, for moderate stakes. Serious gaming was something quite different. Was she out of practice? She closed her eyes, envisioning a macao table, seeing a hand of cards. The old, familiar prickle of excitement ran down her spine and she smiled to herself. No, she'd never lose the touch.
She'd have to have Sebastian's escort. He would probably have plans of his own for the evening and would need time to alter them. It didn't occur to her that her brother would fail her. She'd go to his lodgings right away… but, no. Marcus was waiting for her. Just what lay behind this brusque summons to his book room? For a minute, she toyed with the idea of ignoring the summons, then dismissed the urge. Matters were delicate enough between them as it was, without deliberately stirring things up.
Marcus opened the door himself at her brisk knock. "I was wondering how long your friends would keep you."
"They had the prior claim on my attention, sir," she said. "It would have been unpardonably rude to have asked them to leave prematurely… although you don't seem to share that opinion. You made
it very clear they shouldn't prolong their visit."
Marcus glanced at the dock, observing wryly "I can't have been very persuasive. I've been waiting for you for well over an hour."
Judith put her head on one side, surveying him through narrowed eyes. "And what else did you expect, Carrington?"
That surprised a reluctant laugh from him. "Nothing else, lynx." A wispy strand of copper hair was escaping from a loosened pin in the knot on top of her head. It was irresistible, and without conscious decision, he pulled the pin out. Then it seemed silly to stop there and his fingers moved through the silken mass, finding and removing pins, demolishing the careful coiffure.
Judith made no protest. Whenever he put his hands on her, it was always the same. She became powerless to do anything but respond. As the hair tumbled around her face, he ran his hands through it, tugging at tangled ringlets with a rapt expression. Then he stood back and surveyed his handiwork.
"What did you do that for?" Judith asked.
"I don't know," he said with a puzzled headshake. "I couldn't seem to help myself." Cupping her face, he kissed her, a long, slow joining of their mouths that as always absorbed them totally.
Slightly breathless, Judith drew back from him when he let his hands fall from her face. "You do kiss remarkably well, husband," she observed with a tiny laugh.
"And you have, of course, vast experience from which to draw your comparisons."
"Now, that, sir, is for me to know and you to find out."
"I'm not sure this is the time or the place for such a discovery. I shall postpone the exercise until later."
"So what lies behind this urgent summons?" Judith asked, changing the subject in the hope that it would allow her heated blood to cool and put the stiffness back in her knees.
"Ah." Leaning against the desk, crossing his long legs in their fawn pantaloons at the ankles, he reached behind him for the pile of bills. "I've been examining your quarterly bills and I think… I really think you need to explain some of them."
"Explain them?" She looked at him in genuine confusion, arousal quenched as thoroughly as if she'd been dipped in an icy stream.
"Yes." He held out the bills and she took them, staring down at the sheet on top bearing columns of John's neat figures. The total was extravagant, certainly, but not horrendous… at least not by the standards of London Society.
"So what do you want me to explain?" She leafed dirough the bills. "They all seem quite straightforward."
"Do you usually spend four hundred guineas on a gown?" he asked, taking the sheaf from her, riffling through them until he found the offending document. "Here."
"But that was my court dress," she said. "Magarethe made it."
"And this… and this…" He held out two more. "Fifty guineas for a pair of shoe buckles, Judith!"
Judith took a step back. "Let me understand what's happening, Marcus. Are you questioning my expenditures?"
He pursed his lips. "That would be an accurate interpretation of this interview."
"And you're accusing me of extravagance?" There was a faint buzzing in her ears as she grappled with the humiliation of this: to be chastised like a child who's overspent her pin money. No one, ever, had questioned her expenditure. Since she had first put up her hair, she had been managing her own finances as well as those of their small household. She had juggled bills, paid rent, ensured food of some kind appeared on the table; and in the time since her father's death, she had managed the growing fund that would underpin the plan for Gracemere's downfall.
"In a word, yes."
"Forgive me, but just how much would it be reasonable for me to spend in a quarter?" Her voice shook. "You neglected to give me a limit."
"My error," he agreed. "I'll settle these bills and then I'll instruct my bankers to make you a quarterly allowance. If you overspend, then I'll have to ask you to submit all bills to me for prior approval."
He stood up, tossing the bills on the desk as if to indicate the interview was over. "But I'm sure you'll remember how to put a rein on your spending, once you understand that marriage has not opened the gates to a limitless fund. I'm sorry if you didn't realize that earlier." He could hear the bile in his voice, could almost see the ugly twist to his mouth, and yet he couldn't help himself.
Afraid of what she would do or say if she stayed another minute in the same room with Marcus, Judith turned and left, closing the door with exaggerated care behind her. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. He was accusing her of taking advantage of her position to satisfy her own greed. What kind of person did he think she was? But she knew the answer: a conniving, unprincipled trickster who would stoop to anything to achieve her ambition.
But it wasn't true. Oh, on the surface, maybe. She wasn't dealing the cards of her marriage with total honesty. But she wasn't the despicable person he believed her to be.
And she wasn't going to submit to a meager allowance and a controlling hand on her purse strings. Her lips tightened with determination. What she could do for Sally, she could do for herself. She would simply return to the old days: Pay her own way at the tables. And Marcus Devlin and his quarterly allowance could go to the devil.
Half an hour later, footman in tow, she walked to her brother's lodgings on Albemarle Street. Sebastian was on his way out for a five o'clock ride in Hyde Park, but with customary good nature postponed the excursion and ushered his sister into his parlor.
"Sherry?"
"Please." She took the glass he handed her.
"So, what can I do for you, Ju?"
"Several things." She explained the matter of Sally and the four thousand pounds.
Sebastian frowned. "That's a devil of a haul in one night, Ju."
"I know, but what else is to be done? If Marcus ever discovered what she'd done, I can't think how he'd react. Jack might be a bit more understanding, but he'll follow Marcus's lead, he always does."
"He wields a lot of power, that husband of yours," Sebastian observed.
"Yes," Judith agreed shortly. "Jack's elder brother, Charlie's guardian… my husband," she added in an almost vicious undertone.
"What's happened?" Sebastian asked without preamble.
Judith told him, trying to keep her voice steady, but her anger surged anew as she recounted the mortifying interview. She paced Sebastian's parlor, the embroidered flounce of her walking dress swishing around her ankles. "It's intolerable," she finished with a sweep of her arm. "Marcus is intolerable and the situation is intolerable."
"What are you going to do about it?" Sebastian knew his sister well enough to know she would never submit meekly to her husband's edict.
"Provide for myself," she said. "At the tables. Just like before."
Sebastian whistled softly. "I suppose you couldn't just tell him that you didn't know who was in the taproom at Quatre Pras? Since that's what's causing the mischief."
Judith shook her head. "It wouldn't do any good. He's determined to believe the worst of me, and the truth's dubious enough, anyway." She looked helplessly at her brother. "Supposing I say: I didn't deliberately trap you into marriage, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up, for an adventuress in need of a good establishment in order to pursue her secret goal. And anyway, we're not really married, but I didn't want you to know that." She raised her eyebrows at her brother.
Sebastian pretended to consider this. "No, I'm afraid that wouldn't go over too well. At any rate, you know you can count on me. The deep play doesn't begin at Dolby's until the early hours. If you're going to Cavendish House, I'll escort you from there. Will that serve?"
"Perfectly. Marcus doesn't intend to put in an appearance at Cavendish House, and he'll not be surprised if I don't return home until near dawn. We always go our separate ways."
"You'd better dip into the 'Gracemere fund,' " Sebastian said. "You'll need decent stakes at the start, and clearly your husband isn't going to furnish them." He went into the next-door bedroom and returned with a pouch of rouleaux. "Eight hundred." He
dropped it into her hand and grinned. "If you don't turn that into four thousand in one evening, I'll know you've lost your touch."
She smiled, weighing the pouch on the palm of her hand. "Never fear. Now, there's another matter in which I need your help." She put down her sherry glass. "Since I'm declaring war, I might as well do it properly. I wish you to acquire a high-perch phaeton and pair for me. Marcus has expressed himself very vigorously on the subject of loose women who drive themselves in sporting vehicles, so my driving one should nicely confirm his flattering opinion of me."
Sebastian scratched his nose and refilled his glass. Judith had lost her temper, and once she'd taken the high road, as he knew from a lifetime's experience, there was little he could do to turn her from the path. She'd pursue it until the momentum died. "Is it wise to be so blatantly provoking?" he asked, without much hope of success.
"I don't much care," his sister responded. "He thinks I'm a designing, conniving baggage, with no morals and no principles. And so I shall be."
Sebastian sighed. "How much do you want to spend for the pair?"
"Not above four hundred… unless it would be a crime to pass them up, of course."
"Grantham's in debt up to his neck… I could probably acquire his match-bays for around four hundred."
"Wonderful. Pay for them out of the 'fund,' and I'll replace it as soon as I've earned it."
She reached up and kissed him. "Now I'll leave you to Hyde Park."
"Ju?"
"Yes?" She stopped as she reached the door.
"Gracemere's in town."
"Ahhh. Have you seen him?"
"No, but Wellby was talking of him in Whites this morning."
"Ahhh," said Judith again, as a prickle of anticipation crept up her spine. "Then soon we begin, Sebastian."
"Yes," he agreed. "Soon we begin."
Judith stood on the pavement for a minute, gazing sightlessly dow.n the narrow road. The footman waited patiently. A sudden gust of wind picked up a handful of fallen leaves from the gutter and sent them eddying around her. Absently she reached out and caught one. It was dry and crackly and crumbled to dust as her hand closed over it. Once the game with Gracemere was played out, there would be no need to continue the illegal charade of her marriage. Marcus would have his freedom from her. But not before she'd taught him a lesson.