but I believe I can get us back safely. We have passed some remarkable works of art. There was a rather lovely oil by a painter I do not know—I must do a bit of research tomorrow. And here is a type of Gainsborough you do not see very often. We will have no trouble.”
Cecilia had not noticed the paintings, but she had counted two mirrors since they’d made their wager. And, yes, except for the wager, she would have looked at herself in each one to make certain that she was still presentable. The thought horrified her. It was as though she were addicted to her appearance or, at least, to making sure she looked as perfect as possible at all times.
The footman opened the door to what must be the small game room and Cecilia was sure they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. For one thing this “small room” was the size of their dining room at home and, even worse, judging by the tension in the room something awful must be afoot. Something of which she would rather not be a part.
The table where the players were gathered sat in a circle of light that left the rest of the room in deep shadow, making for an appearance of impropriety even if it was of the mildest sort. Lord Destry’s red scarf was loosened, as was his shirt, and Cecilia could see, even from this distance, that he’d had quite a bit to drink. She could tell by the way he slouched in his chair, and he was far less active than he usually was. This is exactly what I feared.
“It’s just the shadows,” Beatrice whispered. “They would make even you look dangerous.”
Cecilia noted that Bitsy herself stayed back and watched with her, waiting for the right moment to announce their presence. All she wanted to do was sneak out without being noticed, a thought that would never occur to her sister.
The gamers included Lord Crenshaw, Lord Jess, the marquis, the Earl of Belmont, and Mrs. Kendrick. Not one of them looked their way. All attention was focused on the hand in play. Only Lord Crenshaw and Lord Jessup were holding cards.
“Yes,” Cecilia breathed back, tearing her eyes away from the marquis. Lord Jessup usually stood back from the rest or was the last to enter a room. But not now. With even more concentration than the rest of them, Jess waited and watched his opponent.
With the play of one card, the entire table reacted. Destry with a whoop of excitement, Mrs. Kendrick with a whispered phrase, and Lord Jess with a smile of such malicious satisfaction it justified the angry expression Lord Crenshaw could not hide.
The elation was such a change of mood that it made Cecilia jump, and she pressed her hand to her mouth for fear she would let out a scream.
Lord Belmont broke the silence. “You’ve lost, Crenshaw. Well played, both of you,” he declared. “As hard as it is to believe, Crenshaw, you now owe Jess two thousand pounds.” Lord Belmont was, as usual, the voice of calm.
“Two thousand pounds,” Beatrice hissed, her mouth next to her sister’s ear. “That’s a fortune.”
Lord Jessup settled on a neutral, if satisfied expression, and Crenshaw seemed to rethink a tirade of words, settling for only two. “You bastard.”
“There is a lady present,” Lord Jessup reminded him.
Mrs. Kendrick nodded. “A lady who was married to a sailor for fifteen years. Your language is excused, my lord.”
“How do she and Belmont do that?” Beatrice asked. “They are so good at easing difficult situations.”
“Shh,” Cecilia responded. This was hardly the place for such analysis. She wanted desperately to leave.
“If you prefer,” Lord Jessup said silkily, “I will take the land that you won from me the last time we played for high stakes.”
“That played-out coal mine?” Crenshaw leaned back in his chair, raising it off its front two legs.
“Lord Crenshaw is acting as though he has the upper hand,” Beatrice said.
“Yes. Why? He lost.”
Lord Jessup must have realized he’d made a tactical error, for his satisfied expression was replaced with a try for casual indifference.
It almost worked.
Nothing about this exchange was casual. It frightened Cecilia enough that she wanted to close her eyes and cover her ears.
“I know it’s worth less than two thousand but it does have sentimental value,” Lord Jessup countered.
“I’m not sure I even own those paltry acres anymore.”