by Archer, Kate
Naiveté? Is that what he thought of her? The last thing Lily Farnsworth would consider herself was naive to the ways of the world. She had not grown up in a sheltered hothouse. She had grown up with creditors at the doors and a footman failing spectacularly to pretend he was the butler in an effort to fend off those circling wolves. She still remembered the very early years when her mother’s face was pinched, her father was consumed with worry, and the dinners were scant on meat and filled with vegetables from their garden. She remembered a conversation overheard as her parents debated whether they could hold on to the estate and what they were to do if they could not.
Good Lord, even America had been spoken of. Her childhood had been one long night of uncertainty and fear.
Lily looked coldly at Lord Ashworth. “I see you remain confident you would end victorious, though I assure you that you would be wrong. Further, I see nothing amiss in a lady relieving a very mistaken gentleman of his pounds and pence.”
“I say,” Mr. Simmons said with enthusiasm, “this is rather famous. The young lady ventures to wager against the most notorious gentleman gambler in town.”
Lily glanced at Mr. Simmons. What did the fellow mean, the most notorious gambler in town?
“I make no claims at notoriety,” Lord Ashworth said. “The word conjures a flamboyance I do not aspire to. I merely seek to challenge anyone worthy of it.”
“You have very decided opinions of yourself, my lord,” Lily said in as curt a manner as she could muster.
Of all the words that had been exchanged between them, that particular salvo seemed to be the most affecting. There had been the slightest bloom of pink on the lord’s cheeks.
“To speak the truth is to speak a fact, not an opinion, Miss Farnsworth,” Lord Ashworth said abruptly.
“What’s the use in talking?” Mr. Simmons said. “What shall you bet? Ten pounds seems right for a drawing room. I will secure a pack of cards and then we shall see how the drama unfolds! Goodness, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in months.”
Mr. Simmons had hopped up from his seat and was away before Lily could stop him. She had no idea how she would have stopped him, had she the time, though she would have dearly liked to try.
“You are free to renege,” Lord Ashworth said. “In fact, I urge you to do so. I will tell Mr. Simmons it is I who refuse to play, and I’ll throw some flattering folderol into it for good measure.”
Lily fumed. Never was there such a highhanded fellow. How dare he speak to her as if she were some flighty empty-head who must be rescued from an ill-considered scheme.
Lord Ashworth glanced behind him. He turned back to her and said, “You ought to make your decision, Mr. Simmons returns in unbecoming haste.”
Lily smiled. “Oh, I have made my decision, my lord,” Lily said sweetly. “You are to leave this house poorer than when you came into it.”
Mr. Simmons had apparently alerted all and sundry to the unusual wager proposed between Miss Farnsworth and Lord Ashworth. Those who had not been informed had noticed the crowd convening around a table at the far end of the drawing room and soon made their way to the scene. Even Lily’s aunt had given up on the tea tray and joined the gathering.
Lily did her best to resist becoming unnerved by the attention, or to speculate if it would lead to talk on the morrow. Lady Blakeley appeared amused, but then it seemed to Lily that the lady was generally amused. Cassandra, on the other hand, looked exceedingly worried. Aunt Hemming seemed more perplexed than anything else. What struck Lily more, though, was Lord Ashworth. He was disdainful, if he was anything at all.
Mr. Simmons had removed the lowest cards from the pack. The lord had offered to deal, but Lily claimed the right. Everybody knew that the dealer began at a disadvantage and she had no intention of allowing anyone to suppose she was victorious as a result of having an advantage.
She was satisfied with her hand. It was not the most auspicious she had ever looked upon, but she was certain she knew how to play it. It had one particular advantage that would serve her well. She only discarded one. Lord Ashworth exchanged only one card as well, and looked at the next four. So, the lord thought himself skilled at memorizing which cards were where. He thought he held the advantage of memorizing them in order to make better guesses at what she held in her hand. Lily suppressed a smile. Nobody was more skilled at those strategies than herself.
The declarations would begin.
“Three,” Lord Ashworth said.
“How much?”
“Thirty,” Lord Ashworth answered.
“Good,” Lily said. Were she not playing cards, she would smile. As it was, she must hide her glee. The truth was his run was no good, though she was not obligated to declare it. She had a triplet of aces and she would keep that information to herself until the time was right.
The declarations went on, Lord Ashworth unaware that Lily had sunk the triplet of aces. It was a tactic often talked of but rarely actually used. Most players were too faint of heart to delay taking points that were right in front of them. She was already in a solid enough position regarding her declarations and she wished Lord Ashworth to remain in the dark regarding the extent of her hand until it was time to lay down those cards. She had a mind to take most of the tricks, especially the last.
Making their way through point, sequence, and triplets or fours, the declarations concluded and the play could now begin. As they laid down card after card, it slowly became apparent to Lord Ashworth that he might have underestimated his opponent. For Lily, herself, it was as if she entered a dreamlike state. The cards played arranged themselves in one area of her mind, the cards in her hand in another. The variations that Lord Ashworth might hold, based on his declarations and what had been laid down, in still another corner. The individual cards laid down by Lord Ashworth hinted at his strategy and state of mind, suggesting what other cards might remain in his hand and how he would play them.
He had underestimated her ability, though he did not yet know how much. Lily glanced down at her last three cards—they were her triplet of aces, and the lord did not know it.
It had been a daring gambit, one she had used before. Her opponents never seemed to consider the idea that a woman could keep her nerves steady enough to try a sink. Certainly, Lord Ashworth would never consider the idea. Now, it was about to pay off handsomely.
Lily did her best to ignore the whispers around her but could not help to overhear some of them.
“She plays like a sharp.”
“I never did see the like of it.”
As she laid down her second ace and took the trick, Lily watched Lord Ashworth’s expression with interest. This would be the moment he might guess that she’d sunk a triplet of aces.
The idea did clearly dawn on him and he looked up sharply at her. Lily smiled graciously. He would know now that her final card was likely an ace. She would win the last trick.
She slowly laid down her ace.
Lord Ashworth laid down the queen of hearts. He had saved a high card to take the last trick, and he had failed.
And so the play went on with new hands. Lily had varied her strategy so that he might not detect a pattern and had not sunk anything since the first play. The lord was equally dodging, she had to use all her concentration to divine his likely strategies. However arrogant Lord Ashworth might be, he was the most skilled player she had yet encountered. Skilled though he might be, he would not overcome her.
At the final play she’d sunk three kings, knowing full well the aces and the other king were already played. She handily won the last three tricks.
The scores told the story, she had won the game, and handily.
The crowd surrounding the table stamped feet and there were various “bravas” called out.
Lord Ashworth having had a moment to collect himself, said, “I congratulate you, Miss Farnsworth.”
“It was nothing, my lord,” Lily said. She was in the habit of expressing that very sentiment every time
she took an opponent’s money. It was so vague it might be construed that she thought herself only lucky, or that it had only taken the slightest of efforts to succeed.
“Hear that?” Mr. Simmons cried. “The lady trounces a renowned gambler and it was nothing!”
“I presume you will not be alarmed to wait until the morrow to settle the debt,” Lord Ashworth said. “Though I am happy to sign for it if you like.”
“I assume you may be trusted, Lord Ashworth,” Lily said graciously.
The party round the table dispersed after some few minutes, Lord Ashworth dispersing himself perhaps faster than most. Mrs. Hemming was lured away for a game of whist and left her niece with Cassandra.
“Well,” Cassandra said, sitting down next to Lily, “I suppose we can at least be grateful that you won.”
“I know I should not have done it,” Lily said, “but he really was provoking beyond anything.”
Cassandra patted her hand. “I learned for myself that it’s no use pretending you are anything other than who you are. And you, Lily Farnsworth, are quite the card player.”
“Yes, I know it,” Lily said, with no hint of false modesty.
“Does it have to do with your memory?” Cassandra asked. “It’s always been rather good. I remember in my own house, when something was misplaced, my father would say, If only Lily were here, she’d remember what became of it.”
“Indeed, I can see where I saw something last and it has come in very handy with cards. But for all that, I do not wish to be talked of.”
“I am afraid that is a rather empty wish,” Cassandra said. “A lady new to the town defeats the famed Lord Ashworth at a card table? It will be talked of everywhere. However, there is nothing disreputable in it and so you can expect only idle chatter. Simply hold your head up and face the talkers down.”
*
Lily and her aunt had finally taken leave of Lady Blakeley. Lily wondered if, by playing Lord Ashworth, she had caused her hostess any discomfort, but Lady Blakeley had whispered, “Well done, my dear, I do so like a girl with spirit,” as they had donned their cloaks.
Now, their carriage rattled through the dark and damp roads toward Cork Street.
“I’m not sure it was at all the thing, though,” Mrs. Hemming said.
Her aunt had not said she spoke of the card game, but Lily was certain that she did.
“Ashworth, goodness,” Mrs. Hemming went on. “He makes the most frightening bets at Lady Carradine’s. Frightening to me, anyway. Now that I think of it, you might be better served only making bets at her club. I fancy it’s more discreet, though I’d be hard-pressed to say exactly why. It just seems so… well, in any case, what a talent for piquet! I never saw the like of it. You seemed positively clairvoyant, my dear.”
“Cassandra says the wager will be talked of,” Lily said, wishing to get that piece of unpleasant business out of the way.
“Everything is talked of,” her aunt said with complacency. “After all, what is the ton to do but talk? None of us have any real employment. Oh, we fancy that embroidering a seat cushion or painting a screen is the most vital thing in the world. The gentlemen run around pretending at politics but accomplishing little. It’s all nonsense. Gossip is our real lifeblood.”
Though her aunt’s thoughts could sometimes be inexplicably winding, they also just as often hit upon some truth that nobody was willing to give voice to. In any case, it was encouraging that Mrs. Hemming, for one, was not overwrought by what she had viewed this night, nor what might be said about it on the morrow.
Lily was gratified that she’d won, though not particularly surprised by it. She’d taught that arrogant gentleman a lesson that she imagined must sting.
It was a shame he was so filled with arrogance, for there could not be a more handsome man in London. Those eyes! They were the color of dark emeralds. She had never seen anything like them.
Lily suppressed a smile. What a ninny she was to swoon over the first pair of fine eyes she encountered in town. Especially since those eyes were placed in the head of one who was so irritating. And, even if he were the most pleasant man alive, he was a gentleman of the pact. He’d sworn he would not marry, and so every lady of sense would be well advised to give him a wide berth.
In any case, Lily reminded herself that for all the diversions of the season to come, she was here for a serious purpose. She must get herself settled creditably, if not for herself, then for her sisters. There was no room in any of that for pondering a pair of fine eyes.
*
Hayes sat alone in the breakfast room of his house in Berkeley Square, glaring at the sideboard. He had consented to a cup of strong coffee but had not an appetite for anything more substantial. He was dimly aware that one of the footmen was staring at him fairly agog, as the boy was used to watching his master fill his plate with as much as it could hold.
Finally, he heard his butler clear his throat. “Is something amiss, my lord?” Cobb asked. “Might I fetch something else?”
“No, nothing,” Hayes said.
What an evening! What a blasted evening. It had begun with Hampton thinking it amusing to drag him in front of Miss Farnsworth’s notice. Now that Hampton was married, he seemed to find it a great game to tempt his friends who would avoid the state.
He would admit to Hampton presuming that Miss Farnsworth might tempt. At least, in looks. She was tall and slim, with a marvelous amount of dark hair. Then, there was that face, the chin with the slightest dimple, the lips so perfectly proportioned, and her eyes, those dark eyes…
Had she been an actress, he would have pursued her relentlessly.
However, looks alone did not make a lady. There was her temperament to consider, and that was where Miss Farnsworth fell far short of ideal.
She had none of the feminine graces! What lady would challenge him in such a manner? Her confidence was, well, it was irritating to say the least.
Hayes felt himself flush as he recalled the card game. It was his own fault that it had even occurred. Lady Hampton had wished to put a stop to it, but he found he could not resist putting the bold Miss Farnsworth in her place.
How was he to guess she would be so skilled? There had been something almost supernatural in her play. She seemed to always know what he held, and worse, what he would do. If he’d been in a gaming hell, he’d have looked for a strategically placed set of mirrors. He could not unravel how she’d been so good. She’d sunk a triplet of aces like a hardened card sharp! Worse, he’d fallen for it and lost some high cards for his trouble. He’d been all confidence that he’d take the last three tricks during that first game, never imagining she’d sunk her aces.
And then, so many people standing around to witness his defeat. He assumed it would be mere hours before the story was told in one drawing room after the next and likely embellished to boot.
After he’d left Lady Blakeley’s house, he’d gone to Lady Carradine’s club to gamble the night away. He knew perfectly well that he’d been drawn there to recover some of his dignity by ending the night as a winner, rather than loser. He had won, though not in a spectacular fashion. It had been a middling sort of evening, though he’d come out ahead.
While he had been in the frame of mind for cards, he’d not been in the right temperament to put up with Lady Carradine’s recently arrived relative. Mr. Shine was come from America, Hayes was to understand. Mr. Shine had sold off something or other, a farm perhaps, and was now relocated to London.
Why the man kept talking to him, and why he had the temerity to relay so much information and ask so many questions, Hayes could not fathom. He liked Lady Carradine, but if her cousin insisted on making himself a pest, Hayes would go elsewhere.
Lady Carradine really ought to know better. Nobody came to her house for the conversation, and if they did, nobody would be much interested in conversing with Mr. Shine. Perhaps the proprietress ought to confine her cousin to attending the musical evenings nobody but a few of the ladies ever attended.
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Hayes’s thoughts drifted out of Lady Carradine’s club and back to Miss Farnsworth and her miraculous amount of dark waves of hair. It was a shame she was not as a lady should be. Or perhaps it was a blessing. Who knows how far down a road he might travel if she’d made herself pleasant.
A footman came in and announced Lord Cabot.
“Cabot?” Hayes asked. “What does he do here so early?”
Cabot himself strode in and answered. “I decided I’d avail myself of your board,” he said, glancing at it. “I thought it might be amusing to attack a plate of sausage and eggs while you tell me how you possibly lost at cards to some chit of a girl named Famesworth.”
“Farnsworth,” Hayes said. “Good God, how has the story made the rounds this early?”
“It was rather late, actually,” Cabot said, piling his plate high. Though he’d only mentioned sausage and eggs, it seemed the lord would not look askance at absolutely everything else the house had on offer. When he’d filled one plate and looked about, Cobb handed him another, which was promptly stacked with rolls.
Sitting down with the two plates ranged in front of him, Lord Cabot said, “A fellow named Mr. Simmons arrived to Lady Galliton’s house while we were all settled into cards and told the story. I said he must be mistaken, but he claims he was on the scene at Lady Blakeley’s dinner.”
“So he was. I found him annoying.”
“He is, rather,” Lord Cabot said. “But, out with it—how did it happen?”
“I hardly know,” Hayes said.
“Luck,” Cabot said, shaking his head. “One never knows who she will favor. Except to know she usually turns her back on me at a table. I’ve only luck with my horses.”
Hayes would very much like to imagine it was luck that was on Miss Farnsworth’s side, he would very much like it if everybody else thought so too. He did not, however, believe it.
“I am afraid it was something more than luck,” he said.
“Well, even you might have a bad night I suppose. Simmons says she’s a pretty thing, I reckon you were distracted.”
“I do not get distracted while playing cards,” Hayes said.