Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,68

now time to collect the info I was looking for from Patsy.

“How are Mary and Nigel this year?” I asked, picking at my scone. On the surface it seemed like an innocuous question, perhaps about their health, but Patsy and I both knew that such a vague question opened the floor for her to tell me anything and everything she knew about Nigel and Mary’s chances this year.

“Nigel’s been favoring his right knee,” Patsy said, taking a swig of her drink.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I lied. “And Mary?”

“Tells me she memorized an entire chapter for the acting portion.”

“No!” Damn that Mary. Sounded like she had the same strategy Jeremy and I had. More being better. “Didn’t happen to mention which chapter, did she?”

“She did not. They seem as sharp at whist as ever,” Patsy added, bobbing the celery stalk up and down in her glass. “Saw them playing Marianne and Elinor last night for fun.”

Whist was Migel’s strongest skill. I swear they played it every night in real life. Jeremy was a decent card player, but Luke usually beat him. Had the night we’d played whist with Ellie and Luke and won merely been a fluke? I bit my lip. We’d have to really make up points in acting and dancing and costume if Nigel and Mary beat us at whist.

“So, what’s the real story between you and Mr. Remington?” Patsy asked, sipping on her Bloody Mary.

“I told you, we’re old friends.”

“Just friends, eh?” Patsy asked in as skeptical a voice as I’d ever heard.

“Yes.” I blinked.

She sighed and gave me another slow wink. “That’s a shame, darling.”

That afternoon at precisely thirteen hundred, I met Jeremy at the back door off the parlor that led out to the crescent, where the tents for the competition were set up. The whist tent had been arranged with multiple tables of four. The judges would walk around and monitor the play.

I wore a light pink gown with a high waist and matching reticule and my white slippers. In addition to his black boots, Jeremy had on his tight, buff-colored breeches and a chocolate-brown overcoat with a matching cream waistcoat, a white shirt and cravat.

We settled into our assigned seat. I glanced about uneasily. Luckily, I hadn’t seen Harrison and Lacey yet today. I’d thought about it a lot last night and decided that my strategy would be to pretend that Harrison wasn’t my boyfriend while we were in England. Here he was only a man I was competing against. When we got back to the States, we could argue about who did what. For now, I was merely focused on winning.

Whist was tense. Jeremy and I solidly beat our lower-round competitors, a brother and sister team from Northumbria, a couple from Devon, and two actual sisters from the US.

I was beginning to feel confident until we entered the final round and were paired with Migel. Dang it. Why couldn’t Harrison and Lacey have been paired with Migel? Lacey and Harrison were on the far end of the tent, playing a completely different set of competitors. Given the number of people participating, we couldn’t all play each other. The scores would be based on points for the overall competition.

“Stay calm,” I whispered to Jeremy as we approached the table where Migel had already staked a claim.

“I am calm,” Jeremy whispered back.

“They’re good, but we’re decent. We’re not totally out of this.”

“Aye, aye,” Jeremy replied with a grin. “We’ve got this.” Once again, he made my anxiety level ease just by his presence. I slid into my chair across from him. He waited until I was seated to sit too. We exchanged pleasantries with Nigel and Mary, but were careful to keep everything very professional. No fraternizing with the enemy.

The play began, and after an hour we were tied neck and neck. We played two more rounds that went about the same. Finally, Jeremy shuffled the cards and Mary opened with a queen of clubs. I eyed Jeremy over my hand before playing a nine of clubs. Nigel tossed down the four of clubs and Jeremy threw the two on the pile. Next, Mary played the king. Damn it. Did they have the whole royal flush? I tossed down the three. Nigel threw in the five and Jeremy threw in the ten. Mary’s eyes narrowed. She tossed down the eight. I winged the six onto the pile and Nigel had the seven. Jeremy smiled. My gaze met his.

Oh my, God.

He had the ace!

We won.