by Archer, Kate
Lord Claymoore, on the other hand, spoke of his family seat, Granger Hall. Lily was to understand all of its glories, including drafty rooms, murder holes, and secret passageways. The family did not go in for modernization and they stuck to old habits as they had done for hundreds of years. She was to know that the family did not approve of excessive amounts of vegetables, though their table could be counted on to provide meat of every sort. If it was good enough for Henry Tudor’s table, it was good enough for them.
Lily hinted that while Granger Hall sounded rather marvelous, she had a weak chest and would find herself dead inside of a year in such drafty accommodations. The Lord had briefly toyed with the idea of modernizing a bedchamber or sitting room, and even providing the occasional lettuce, but Lily had put an end to those ruminations by gently coughing.
All in all, Lily thought it fortunate that these fellows were born to families of some consideration, for had they been left to make their own way in the world they would surely have starved by the roadside.
She had not at all looked forward to finding herself Lord Ashworth’s partner. Though over time, and with the help of her clumsy partners, her dread had faded to a remarkable degree. At least he would be counted on to leave her toes alone and she doubted he would lecture her on the charms of his estates or what was put on the table in those places.
Now, he led her to the floor. His hand appeared dry on her glove and exerted just the proper amount of pressure. She felt she was guided by a man who knew what he was about and it gave her a thrill after the tediousness that the evening had so far provided. His tall person moved with an elegance that Lord Claymoore and Mr. Hackeray could only aspire to.
As they waited their turn, Lord Ashworth said, “Miss Farnsworth, I dislike enmity with anybody and hope that we can be on friendly terms.”
Lily was silent for a moment. It was precisely the sort of thing a gentleman highly placed would say. While another might feel pressed to apologize for rude behavior, the lord simply wished her to know he found discord disagreeable.
“My lord,” she said carefully, “to be accused of trickery is not easy to dismiss.”
The lord had the good grace to flush. He said, “I regret the use of that word. I did not mean to imply cheating of any sort; I know that was not the case. I should have been more careful in my speech.”
Lily only nodded.
“What I meant was that there is some method you employ that I have never encountered. I was surprised by it.”
“Apparently so,” Lily said, wondering if he would ever get round to a proper apology.
“I was correct?” Lord Ashworth said. “There is a method?”
“Indeed,” Lily said.
“I wonder if you—”
“No,” Lily said firmly.
The lord was not able to proceed further with the inquiry, as it was their turn.
He led her through the changes with grace, which was a relief considering her other partners. Not worrying about her toes gave her time to think. The lord was convinced that she had developed some method in her play. She supposed she had, though it was not one that she could teach to another, even if she cared to, which she did not.
It had not escaped her that others did not have the same facility for remembering cards that she did. She had noted it with Lord Ashworth when last they played, and others in Surrey. In fact, she had always known her memory was better than most. Was she not the person everybody turned to when an item was lost? She could view in her mind where she’d last seen the item. If she had not seen it, she was as hopeless as everybody else in locating it, but if she had seen it and it had not been moved, she could recall it in a trice.
In fact, she had just received a letter from her sister Rose, asking after a particular spool of yellow thread. She would write back that it sat on a windowsill in the schoolroom, just behind a curtain. She had noted it there months ago when she’d chanced to pull the curtain back to look out onto the park. Now, she could see it as well as if she were in Farnsworth House looking at it.
The skill was a blessing when it came to cards, and one Lord Ashworth would have to carry on without. Let him believe she’d studied heavy tomes on gambling and chance and had developed some new strategy. She hadn’t, though she had tried. She had located an old book full of numbers and odds in her father’s library and had stolen it away to her bedchamber. There, the words and numbers fairly swam in front of her eyes and she had given it up. Lily Farnsworth was not a learned scholar, but she had a very good memory for what she saw.
The rest of the dance with Lord Ashworth had carried on in a more regular fashion, he apparently understanding she had no wish to talk further on the subject of cards. They had some desultory conversation about Lord and Lady Hampton, as they were a mutual acquaintance, and then she was collected by Lord Grayson.
That lord, unlike Lord Ashworth, was all pleasantries. In truth, he was all flattery. While she enjoyed it, Lily found it made her a bit wary, too. She almost began to wonder if he thought she was an heiress of some sort.
Still, he took her into supper and entertained with amusing stories and did not once mention any card games she may have been involved in. He was all geniality and Lily wished she could say the same for Lord Ashworth.
He was across the table and had taken in Miss Fitch, though Miss Blaise was on his other side and each time he turned to her, he looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. Miss Blaise did not seem to notice and spent a deal of time hitting his arm with her fan and telling him he was very bad.
*
The lords Ashworth and Grayson trotted through the quiet streets of Mayfair. It was just past one in the morning, Lady Catherine’s balls never going on too late from excessive enthusiasm.
“Well, my friend,” Grayson said cheerily, “we have done it. We have survived another of Lady Catherine’s dreadful soirees and you have dodged Miss Blaise for the third year running.”
“I wish the lady would cease hitting me with her fan,” Hayes said.
“She cannot!” Grayson cried with glee. “You are so very bad, she says.”
“Perhaps she will marry some country squire or other and trouble us no more,” Hayes said.
“She does not trouble me in the least,” Grayson said. “In fact, I had a remarkably fine evening, considering where we were. Miss Farnsworth is everything charming.”
Hayes did not answer his friend. In truth, Miss Farnsworth was charming now that the sting of his losses to her had begun to fade. Somehow, dancing with her had softened his view.
He’d had more than one thought of unpinning her hair, never more than when he’d led the lady through the steps. He’d found himself unhappy when Grayson came to collect her and wondered if he ought not have taken the dance before supper. After all, what cared he for the loss of sixty pounds? What cared he for anything said about it? It had all begun to seem a bit of nonsense after he’d touched her hand and found himself in such close proximity.
Miss Farnsworth was a beauty and she was clever. He had never imagined that a lady might develop a method or strategy at cards, but she’d admitted as much. Though, she would not reveal her secret and he supposed he’d no right to ask.
It had dawned on him that he’d taken the whole thing so seriously because of his peculiar situation. While most gentlemen played for amusement, he played to keep his family afloat. It was a far more serious pastime. She was not to know that, though. And certainly, it was not right to condemn her over her remarkable skill at the game.
His condemnation had slowly transformed itself into admiration, though he could not claim the lady’s own feelings had changed. He assumed she disliked him thoroughly and he knew he had earned it.
“Miss Farnsworth might be just the thing,” Grayson said. “I think myself half in love with her already and one always requires a pleasant girl to while away the season with.”
Hayes stared at his friend. “You do not mean to make Miss Farnsworth your latest flirtation?”
“Why ever not?” Grayson said. He reined his horse in from a trot.
Hayes reined in Horus.
“I turn here,” Grayson said, “I promised old Crackwilder I’d stop in for a port. He was an excellent lieutenant, despite his rather bookish nature. He saved my skin more than once. I’ve vowed never to lose touch with him and he swears he never retires before three.”
Grayson turned his horse and trotted down a side street. Hayes watched him disappear into the shadows and then turned his own horse home.
Until this moment, Grayson’s flirtations had been amusing. Every season, the man homed in on some girl recently arrived to town. Flattery and flirtation were his calling cards, though he never let the thing go too far. The young lady would be overcome with his attentions and the idea that she might find herself a duchess someday. The girl’s mama would be embarrassingly encouraging. Toward the end of the season there would be the inevitable cooling off. The lady would go home with a basket of disappointed hopes and a furious mother riding beside her, though most would say nothing of it to save themselves embarrassment.
Grayson always claimed he liked to be in love or to be challenged, but alas the love and the challenge never made it quite a full season. Therefore, he was scrupulous in his words. No lady he had trifled with could accuse him of declaring himself. No parent could demand that he honor a promise never given.
But Miss Farnsworth!
Hayes paused. Why not Miss Farnsworth? What was it to him if the lady was so foolish as to come under the sway of Grayson’s rather shallow charms?
After all, it was not as if his friend would actually marry the lady.
But what if, by some miracle, Grayson did marry the lady? What was that to him? Aside from encouraging the old dukes in their ridiculous pact, why should he concern himself over whether Miss Farnsworth would end disappointed or the next marchioness? He might now find he admired the lady, and there was no use denying her looks, but that was all.
“It is nothing to me,” Hayes said to the empty street. “I only think his friends ought to curtail Grayson’s flirtations. He runs too much risk of being caught at the altar or dueling an enraged brother.”
*
Lily and her aunt had finally departed Lady Catherine’s house. Lily gazed out on the dark streets, thinking of Lord Ashworth.
She was well aware that he’d appeared in so favorable a light that evening because the other gentlemen on hand had not. Well, she supposed Lord Grayson could not be condemned, he’d been all amiability. Though, Lord Grayson did not have… he was not… what was it?
She could not say and, really, there was no use attempting to puzzle it out. Lord Ashworth had made as good an apology as she would ever get and that was the end of it. She very much doubted he would ever again put his name to her card at any of the balls on her calendar. They were all to be much larger and he would have his choice of ladies to squire.
“That was a very pleasant evening,” Mrs. Hemming said. “Lady Catherine and I won handily at whist, as was to be expected. I cannot imagine how Lord and Lady Cavill have played cards these twenty years and yet remain so bad at it—it’s as if they’d never met one another. I suppose you had a tolerable time? Though I admit myself surprised that Lord Ashworth was so eager to dance with you.”
Lily smiled at the thought. “Dear Aunt,” she said, “the very last descriptive I would use for Lord Ashworth is eager.”
“I suppose not,” Mrs. Hemming said. “But then, Lord Grayson seemed terribly genial.”
“That he is,” Lily said. “I suspect he makes a career out of it.”
“You may be right,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I am sure I heard something about a girl with disappointed hopes last season. On the other hand, I find people often are responsible for disappointing themselves, so one wonders. Are you tired, my dear?”
“Not especially, Aunt. I presume you are not either. Perhaps I could read to you for an hour or so?”
“I was thinking we might stop in at Lady Carradine’s club. We are not far off.”
Chapter Eight
Lily opened her eyes. From the brightness behind the curtains, she guessed she had slept very late. She was not surprised by it. She and her aunt had not returned from Lady Carradine’s club until nearly dawn.
What an evening! It had all been so new to her.
They had arrived to a large stone house, whitewashed and sporting a large portico. Mrs. Hemming had shown her how the front door was left unlocked and how one was to let oneself in. There was a cloakroom and a man there to take their coats. Then, they proceeded down a long corridor with a drawing room on one side and a library on the other. Various servants milled about and Lily thought their eyes were more trained on her and Mrs. Hemming than on any task they had been sent to accomplish. They reached large double doors at the end of the corridor and a man seemed to appear from nowhere to let them in.
They entered a cavernous room, tastefully decorated. Its plastered walls were painted an elegant cream, its carpets thick under her feet. Lily suspected it had once been a ballroom, such was its size and dimensions, but now it contained tables of people playing at cards. In the center, was a larger table with a dealer.
Mrs. Hemming stared at the center table and said quietly, “That is new.”
Before Lily could inquire about it, Lady Carradine bustled over to greet them. “Dear Mrs. Hemming,” the lady said, “how good of you to come to my little club. And, you bring a guest!”
“This is my niece, Lady Carradine. Miss Lily Farnsworth. I thought she might be amused to come and look about. She is very good at piquet, by the by.”
A man who had been standing to Lily’s left sidled over to them. “Cousin, you must introduce me to these two lovely young ladies.”
Mrs. Hemming, never one to be conquered by flattery and having no illusion about her looks or her age, ignored the idea that she and her niece must be equal in years. Instead, she said, “Did you say cousin, sir?”
“Indeed,” the man said. “My dear cousin, Lady Carradine, and I have gone into business together and so you shall see me here often.”
“Mr. Shine,” Lady Carradine said, her lips rather tight, “may I present Mrs. Hemming and Miss Farnsworth.”
Mr. Shine bowed low.
Mrs. Hemming said, “May I ask, what is that large table? What are they doing?”
“Vingt-et-un,” Mr. Shine said smoothly.
Lily’s aunt seemed surprised by it. Lady Carradine said, “My cousin has convinced me that my patrons would find entertainment in the game.”
“Oh, not for me,” Mrs. Hemming said. “Those sorts of games rely too much from the heavens choosing to rain down luck upon one’s head.”
Mr. Shine seemed momentarily put out, but he recovered himself and said, “Did I hear rightly that somebody is skilled at piquet?”
“Oh, my niece is very good, Mr. Shine,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I must warn you about that. Though really, I cannot say why I should warn you, now that I think of it. I do not suppose anybody has ever warned me that they were very good at whist. I should think it rather bad form if they did.”
“I consider myself warned,” Mr. Shine said, appearing eager to end Mrs. Hemming’s debate with herself. “Now, Miss Farnsworth, perhaps we can get up a little game together to pass the time?”
Lily had looked hopefully at her aunt.
Lady Carradine had motioned to an older woman dressed in a somber attire. “Mrs. Melton would be happy to sit at the table with Miss Farnsworth.”
Lily assumed Mrs. Melton to be one of those ladies employed to maintain propriety by acting as companion to any lady choosing to play against a gentleman.
Mrs. Hemming said, “Mrs. Melton, very reliable woman. Well, Lily, if you wish it, I see no harm. I see Lady Edith over there without a whist partner, perhaps I will join her. As long as you do not mind it.”
Lily did not mind it at all.
Hours later, she had left with forty pounds. She’d not f
ound Mr. Shine a particularly skilled player—Lily had played against far better in Surrey. She had even suggested they quit after the first play, when he had only lost five pounds. Though she liked to gamble, she did not like to take advantage and he was not a very worthy opponent.
He did not see himself as unworthy, though. He seemed to think himself very skilled and only the victim of terrible luck.
Mrs. Melton watched him like a hawk, and not a very friendly or amused hawk. Aside from what Lily presumed was her general opinion of men, that they must be monitored at all times, she also did not seem to have much faith in this particular man’s skill at cards. She tsk-tsked at his every loss.
Mr. Shine was only pushed to quit when Mrs. Hemming came to collect Lily, otherwise he might have gone on all night, facing down Mrs. Melton and hoping to be granted a reversal from his terrible luck.
Lily stretched out and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. Lady Carradine’s club had been marvelous. She closed her eyes and saw the whole room before her, from the chandeliers with their sparkling crystals to the intricately engraved packs of cards, the backs a charming drawing of a garden gate with pink roses winding round it. Her aunt had promised they would return soon, and it might even be as early as this evening. They were to go to a dinner held by one of Mrs. Hemming’s longstanding friends and those dinners did not have a propensity to run late.
*
The lords Ashworth and Cabot had taken a table at Destin’s and waited for their coffee.
“How goes the regiment?” Hayes asked.
This was understood by Lord Cabot to be a reference to his current living situation. Since the old dukes had halved their incomes, he and Grayson had found it convenient to move into Dalton’s house. Ashworth had not and paid the bill on his own rented house with gambling. He’d gamely pitched in for his friends’ upkeep, but he had no intention of living with them. He’d said he’d rather starve than recreate his military career and its inherent lack of privacy. Further, he’d never shared a butler or a footman since he’d reached his majority and would not start now.