Cass considered the earl’s assistance well paid with her warning. Lady Cat hid claws inside her velvet gloves.
Chapter 2
The thick stench of cigars and the smoking table lamp did not irritate Cassandra’s nose so much as the sharp odor of spirits as her brother poured another glass of port. She forced the frown from her face as she bent over Duncan’s shoulder to better examine his hand of cards. The numbers were a blur to her in this light, but she had learned the placement of the symbols at an early age. He was losing, and this hand would not turn the odds.
She scratched a warning against his coat, but he ignored her, as he was increasingly wont to do these days. He had some illusion that his recklessness served him better than her cheating. She shrugged and wandered to the curtain partitioning his alcove from the main room of the gambling hell.
She was no stranger to these rooms. Early on her father had conceived the notion that she was his good-luck charm. It had only been the card tables at home at first, but as the marquess’s luck away from home had dwindled, he had insisted on bringing her along to his more important games. In time, that had become every game he played.
Realizing that her father’s fortunes at the table determined the mood of the entire household, Cassandra had efficiently learned the ways to ensure a happy outcome.
She had not considered what she did cheating so much as love and filial duty. If her father won, her mother didn’t cry. After a while, she also realized that if her father won, the servants didn’t quit, she might have meat instead of cheese for dinner, and the bottle of port in the cabinet didn’t dwindle as fast, all excellent reasons to develop her talents.
Now that she was eighteen and more aware of society’s strictures, she knew what she was doing was wrong. The quick glance at another player’s hand, the warning signal indicating the wrong card to be played, the sudden smile to tip off a right card, all the innocuous strategies she had learned over the years would be considered cheating in the eyes of men like the Earl of Merrick. When her father had died last year, she had thought they’d ended. Duncan had disabused her of the notion.
Not wishing to entertain dismal thoughts of her brother’s selfish pursuits, Cassandra contemplated the room outside the alcove. Most of the men were familiar to her, though few were of the class of gentlemen. Occasionally a band of young swells would invade, or a lone gambler bent on destruction like her brother, but this particular den of iniquity had an unsavory reputation.
She generally moved with impunity through these hells, protected by her father’s rank and reputation and a certain camaraderie of acquaintance. Lately she had become less sure of herself. Gamblers were always inclined to testiness when losing or overt jocularity when winning, but their treatment of her had changed of late. Whereas before they might have tweaked her hair or cuffed her ear, now they tended to pull her onto their laps or give her sloppy kisses or worse. She laughed it off as she always had, but she no longer laughed inside. Had she given herself time to think of it, she would have been afraid.
Her attention caught on the appearance of a tall man at the door. The way he walked seemed familiar, although his beaver hat and long cloak disguised him from this distance. He wielded the walking stick in his hand more like a weapon than an ornament, and he wended his way through the smoky, stale fog with less than assurance. His stiff reaction to someone’s jostling brought sudden recognition, and Cassandra smiled. Here was entertainment for the evening, indeed.
Duncan scarcely noticed as she slipped through the curtains into the room beyond. The emerald velvet of the gown she wore tonight was less daring than her primrose ball gown, but in these surroundings it caused heads to turn. Any hand daring to reach for her met with her iciest stare.
Fortunately, none were daring this night. A prizefight outside the city had drawn the crowds away, leaving only the most inveterate card and dice players at the tables. Even so, Cassandra could hear the comments on the fight and its potential outcome from every corner of the room. These were diehard gamblers willing to bet on every activity in the country, including the date of their grandmother’s death if necessary.
She lifted a hand to one of Duncan’s friends calling to her for advice as to which way to place his bet. She rotated her wrist in a gesture of a wheel to indicate her preference for “Millstone” Wright. A hoot of disbelief rose from onlookers who favored his opponent, but a number of wagers were hastily laid on the basis of the lady’s suggestion.
The odds went up against Millstone’s opponent. Cassandra smiled and looked toward the fat man tending the ale keg. He made an approving gesture with thumb and forefinger. The wager Duncan had made earlier just went up another point in his favor. He had assured her Millstone was a certain loser.
Without any seeming effort on her part, she floated to a halt just behind the out-of-place gentleman in top hat and cloak. “Looking for someone, my lord?” she whispered suggestively.
Lord Merrick swung around and lift an eyebrow in disbelief. “Cassandra? What the d...” He stopped and rephrased. “What are you doing here?”
“I think the question is more of your presence than mine, my lord. As you can see, you’re the stranger here, not I.” She lifted another hand in greeting at a salute from the nearest table.
Apparently horrified at finding her rubbing shoulders with the rakes and scoundrels of this dismal gambling hell, where no lady was wont to go, Merrick stumbled over a reply. “I’m looking for the younger brother of a friend of mine. I had promised to look out for him this evening, but the young devil... lad slipped away. You wouldn’t happen to know Bertie’s youngest brother, Thomas, would you? I should think he was just about your age.”
He looked uncomfortable, Cassandra observed with amusement. He had finally remembered to remove his hat in her presence, and he kept darting scandalized glances at the men accosting her with overfamiliarity. He rigidly kept his own gaze from falling lower than her face, which made her very aware of her new, more mature figure. None of the men she was familiar with made her pleasantly aware that she was a woman, but this courtly gentleman did. She tried a provocative smile and was gratified to notice he colored but didn’t look away.
“I don’t know any young gentlemen my age, my lord. They can scarcely be expected to occupy places such as this, can they? But if he’s here, I daresay I know where to find him. Come with me.”
Delighted at being able to show off her superior knowledge, Cassandra led him to a corner not easily observed from the door. A round table of rickety construction held a foursome of players. Drink rings stained the cheap wood. The players took little notice of their moist mugs, although they were promptly refilled by a slatternly barmaid as soon as they were emptied.
“I don’t suppose the young blond fellow with his back to us would be the one you seek?”
Distracted from his observance of creamy round breasts barely disguised beneath a high-waisted bodice, Merrick had to force his gaze to where she pointed.
He didn’t have to look closely to identify the youngest Scheffing. All the males of the family were built like young bulls. It was a pity their dispositions weren’t more like the animals they resembled. Suspicion, stubbornness, and anger would serve them better in this city than their amiable and generous natures.
Merrick studied the large stack of markers before the pompous gambler facing them. Cassandra answered his question before he could phrase it.
“Norton fleeces every youngster who comes through that door. He takes pride in it. He thinks he is teaching them a valuable lesson,” she whispered.
“Since Thomas has only just received his quarterly allowance, it will be a rather expensive lesson. With five boys, his parents do not have much extra to spare.”
His tart words had scarcely left his mouth before Merrick realized Cassandra had slipped from his side. In horror, he watched as the gambler called Norton looked up with a paternal smile and gallantly gestured her toward an empty chair. The earl developed a sudden le
aden feeling in his stomach, but he worked his way around to stand behind her.
“Cassandra, I cannot approve of this,” he murmured, as she reached for the cards she was dealt. It was all he could do to prevent his own gaze from seeking her generous cleavage. Every man in here had to be watching.
“Fustian, Merrick. I’ve been playing with Norton since I was naught but a schoolgirl. He doesn’t mind at all, do you?” She sent a sunny smile in the portly man’s direction.
“Of course not, Lady Cassie. You are an astute student of Lady Luck. Have a seat, my lord. We’re all friends here.”
Merrick caught Thomas’ bleak gaze and shook his head. “I’m no hand at cards. I’ll just watch if you don’t mind.” He gave the lad a warning frown and then posed to wait for the final fiasco. It was a hard way for the boy to learn, but he couldn’t pull him out of the fire now. Merrick knew the rules of the game but little more. He would just watch and make certain nothing more was wagered than the few coins left upon the table.
Cassandra began an idle chatter about the prizefight as she nonchalantly held her cards. When she wished to place a wager, she held her palm up and wiggled her fingers at him. Bemused, Merrick obligingly placed a gold guinea there. She sent him a wary glance at the sum, but carelessly threw it in the pot as if it wouldn’t pay a half year’s wages for the lady’s maid she probably didn’t have.
Young Thomas seemed to sink even lower in his seat as Cassandra’s casual aplomb took over the table. She laughed. She teased. She scolded and folded her cards and held out her hand for another coin. All attention focused on her and away from the boy, whose entire quarterly allowance had dwindled to a single silver coin.
To his amazement, Merrick watched Thomas’ fortune begin to change as soon as Cassandra won the deal. The coins came slowly at first, disappearing one at a time from the other men at the table. None noticed his small change of fortune in the shadow of the more spectacular winnings of the amazed lady. She laughed with incredulity as the huge pot came her way, and generously offered to split it with everyone. The men at the table grumbled good-naturedly. One dropped out. Norton gave her a wary look, but comfortable behind his still-considerable winnings, he shook his head.
“Your brother should have your luck, my lady. I’m glad you don’t play often.”
A dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. “You’re just jealous because I’m prettier than you are tonight. Shall I let you have the cards back?”
Ruffled at the insinuation that she was manipulating the deck better than he, the older man made a negative grumble. “Nay, child, let the boy try his hand. He has a few coins yet to share.”
Merrick listened in amazement to the nuances of this exchange. He was nearing thirty years of age, had come into his title almost a score of years ago, and had considerable experience with the fashionable world. True, his tastes had never run to the seamier side of London. His responsibilities seldom left him time to indulge in the vices, but that wasn’t to say he hadn’t tried them. He knew perfectly well that somehow Cassandra was cheating. What he didn’t understand was the fact that the gambler knew it too and didn’t complain.
Of course, if he delved into it further, he’d have to question why and how a gently bred lady knew how to cheat, or what she was doing here in the first place. But these were questions better left to another time. She would scarcely appreciate being questioned on the matter in front of others.
Even with Thomas dealing, the coins in front of Cassandra continued to grow. She laughed with the guilelessness of a child, made gold coin houses with the stacks in front of her, and generously lent Thomas what he needed to make his wager against the rapidly climbing odds she and Norton were constructing. Another player dropped out, but under the sharp eye of the earl, Thomas rebelliously stayed in the game.
Deciding Cassandra had quite aptly proved her point, although his friend’s younger brother hadn’t seen it yet, Merrick brought an authoritative hand down on the shoulders of both youngsters when it became Cass’s turn to deal again. “I’m quite bored with this pastime, my lady, Thomas. Bid your friends farewell and let us find more amusement elsewhere.”
Norton looked relieved and hastily retrieved the deck from Cassandra’s grasping fingers. Cass gave Merrick a sharp look of annoyance and disgust, and Thomas appeared wary as he obediently rose.
Polite murmurs of farewell were made, and remembering Cassandra’s earlier pantomime of what happened when she added coins to her pocket, Merrick hastily scooped up her winnings in his handkerchief, knotting it securely. Her triumph hadn’t exactly made her happy, the earl noted as he caught a glimpse of shadowed blue eyes before she turned away from him, but a wild shout near the door kept him from pondering this discovery.
“Millstone won! A knockout in three rounds! Hand it over, my boys, I’m going to be a rich man!”
Merrick couldn’t see the bearer of these tidings, but he could see Cassandra’s creamy complexion pale another shade whiter. He fingered the bundle of coins in his hand thoughtfully but pretended he hadn’t observed her distraction when she pasted a lovely smile on her lips and took his arm.
“Well, my lord, I trust you wagered on the right man. Millstone has become quite a favorite, hasn’t he?” She gaily acknowledged the triumphant wave of several men holding wads of paper in their raised fists to show her their winnings. Mugs clanked throughout the room as the winners raised their elbows in tribute to the favorite.
One penguin-shaped old gent waddled up and bussed Cassandra neatly on the cheek and pressed a coin in her hand. “Here’s for yer tip, lass. Ye’re a good gel.” He gave Merrick a leery look. “Ye take care o’ the lass or ye’ll be hearin’ from the likes of Timothy O’Leary.”
Merrick hid his pained expression and hurried to usher the two youngsters through the riotous scene. Men jumped on tables and waved bottles while others cursed and flung empty mugs at the walls or the winners. A fistfight broke out in a far corner, and Merrick felt Cassandra step a little more quickly toward the door. He caught her shoulder and pushed her in front of him and gestured Thomas to protect her with his back. In a narrow phalanx they hastened through the growing tumult.
They hurried down the narrow back alley to the wider street, where the carriage waited. The riot inside the gambling hell hadn’t reached the square yet, but the thick silence was almost as unnerving. Merrick cursed at finding himself shepherd to two lambs in this wolf den, but grimly he told himself they had found their way here on their own and deserved a good fright.
Unfortunately, fear didn’t seem to be uppermost in their minds as they climbed into the landau. Cassandra again bounced joyfully on the cushioned seat and Thomas grinned unabashedly at her.
“I say, you were bang up to all the tricks back there. You must teach me how to play like that. Did you really know Millstone was going to win? Dash it all, if I’d only met you earlier, I wouldn’t be looking down the River Tick now.”
“Thomas, you’re a rag-mannered young slowtop and when you’re done rusticating the next quarter you won’t be so eager to repeat tonight’s performance.” Merrick threw himself down beside Cassandra in a decidedly dampening manner. Both youngsters gave him wary looks. “I’m taking you both home and washing my hands of the two of you. If your families can’t teach you common sense, I don’t intend to try.”
Chagrined, Thomas sank into silence. Cassandra coolly held out her palm. “My winnings, my lord.”
He studied the nearly translucent illumination of her face in the dim interior, but blue eyes behind gilded lashes gave no hint of thought or emotion. He drew the bundle from his pocket and placed it on her palm. “I don’t believe my young friend here realizes how you won it,” he admonished.
Merrick thought he detected a flinch but she responded with one of those brilliant smiles he had learned not to trust.
“I am certain you will explain it to him with time.” She turned her taunting gaze to Thomas. “How much did you lose to Norton tonight?”
To Merrick’s amazement, a thundercloud formed across the sun of Cassandra’s expression. She ripped open the handkerchief in her lap and spilled open the mountain of coins.
“Merrick, how much did I steal from him? Name a fair sum. I would not take candy from babes.”
Young Thomas looked astounded, then wounded, but Merrick named a sum that emptied nearly half the coins from her lap after she leaned over and poured them across the lad’s thighs. Merrick was hard pressed to keep a straight face at the boy’s reaction.
Instead, Merrick held out his gloved palm. “I believe you owe me a small sum, also, my lady.”
Cassandra gazed at his palm with contempt, then began to bundle what remained of her winnings into the linen again. “That’s my finder’s fee. I’ll have the handkerchief laundered and returned to you on the morrow.”
A grin forced the corners of his mouth upward as Wyatt read her defiance. “Very well, my lady, I’ll remember that. Do you have a schedule of fees for your other services?”
He should not have said that. It really was quite wicked of him to taunt her, but he could not resist responding in kind. It worked. The thundercloud disappeared, and she grinned at him with understanding before adopting a sultry expression and leaning provocatively closer.
“Of course, my lord. Shall you come in while I show them to you? Bring your young friend. I’m certain he would profit from further lessons this night.”
The jest had gone entirely too far. Ignoring the shock on Thomas’ face, Merrick caught the young chit by the nape and held her firmly at a proper distance. “Cassandra, you ever were in serious want of a sound thrashing. I’ll be round to see your brother in the morning.”
Dash of Enchantment Page 2
