A Gentleman for Judith (The Wednesday Club Book 1)

by Sahara Kelly

  “I’m very happy you’re enjoying yourselves,” said Maud. “Don’t forget to help yourself to refreshments.” She leaned over and rested her hand on Judith’s shoulder. “And mingle, girls. Don’t forget to mingle, too. There are others you might find interesting, but you won’t know if you stay here trying to throw those double sixes…”

  Judith chuckled. “Your point is well made, my Lady.” She looked at Lydia. “We’re almost done.”

  “Your turn I believe.”

  Judith’s hand rattled and she threw the dice onto the board.

  Lydia sighed and glanced at Maud. “See what I mean? Double six. Again.”

  “It’s definitely a sign,” laughed Maud. “There are lobster patties, you know.”

  “Ooh.” Judith’s eyebrows lifted. “Come on, Lydia. Let’s see if the gentlemen have left any. I admit to a partiality for those…”

  Maud stepped back as the two rose and dropped her a little curtsey before heading for the dining room. It was a simple courtesy, but it reinforced Maud’s opinion that she had selected some charming young people to attend this evening, Archie Longstreet notwithstanding.

  Her steps took her around the room, and she found a moment to stop here and there, exchange a brief word or pleasantry, and observe that the older ladies were comfortable and at ease. These were the women who would be carrying their thoughts out into Society in the morning. Thus they were of prime importance, and top of the list of people Maud wished to keep happy.

  It was a harsh and cold-blooded aspiration, but such were the ways of the Ton.

  She happily served Lady Celchester another glass of ratafia, made sure Mrs Turbly-Whitson had sufficient lemon tartlets near at hand, and assured both ladies that their “gels” were quietly conversing with other attendees under the watchful eye of Sir Laurence.

  “Such a dear man,” observed Lady Celchester. “And such a brilliant idea, Lady Maud. Where did you come up with it?”

  Maud smiled while carefully considering her words. “As you know, my Lady, my husband and I were deeply saddened when our only child was lost to us.” She waited a suitable moment or two, hating to even mention the tragedy, but knowing it would help her cause. “Since that time, both Laurence and I have found pleasure in the company of other young people. They’re no substitute for our own daughter of course, but their laughter helps fill the hole a little.”

  “Of course, my dear. Of course. Quite understandable.”

  Both ladies nodded sympathetically.

  “And as for it being Wednesday…well, there’s not much else to do on a Wednesday evening, is there?”

  Mrs Turbly-Wilson raised an eyebrow. “So you’ll be hosting this every week?”

  “Even when the Little Season begins?” added Lady Celchester.

  Both sets of eyes fastened eagerly on Maud’s face.

  She tilted her head in acquiescence. “I believe so, yes.”

  “Going to give Almack’s a run for their money, are you?” Shrewd eyes narrowed as Lady Celchester asked the question.

  Maud laughed lightly. “I doubt that will be so, my Lady. After all, Almack’s is the established centre of all the most superlative Ton activities, and those lucky enough to obtain vouchers will surely not wish to miss a single moment of the fun.” She clenched her teeth. “However…”

  The two ladies leaned forward at Maud’s dramatic pause.

  “There will always be others who have not experienced such good fortune. Who have either been denied vouchers or who are simply unable to obtain them for whatever reason.”

  “And you’ll welcome those poor unfortunates here?”

  “Why not? Look around you, ladies. I venture to guess that of our guests this evening, perhaps five will be admitted into those hallowed halls when the Little Season begins. What of the rest, I ask you? Are they not entitled to mingle with their peers? To perhaps meet the right person, or just find a backgammon partner with similar interests?”

  She waved her hand around the room. “Friendships are valuable in our world; every bit as much as social contacts and connections. I’d hate to think so many young men and women might be denied the chance to form such bonds merely because one particular event is refused them…”

  The two ladies watching her remained silent for a moment. Then Lady Celchester nodded. “I like it. I like the idea, and not just because my niece won’t get vouchers.” She sighed. “Sally Jersey already said no. It’s because of my brother-in-law, I think. He has some business dealings that others do not approve.”

  Mrs Turbly-Wilson shrugged. “I have hopes that dear Matilda will be admitted, of course. I cannot deny that. We are waiting on the Patronesses to make their decision. But even so, I applaud this notion, Maud. You’re opening many doors with your Wednesday Club. And I, for one, am happy to see them bring in a little fresh air.”

  “Thank you both, ladies.” Maud gave them a wide smile. “Your opinions matter so much, and you’ve set my heart to rest with your kind endorsements.”

  A whoosh of cool air disturbed Maud’s silk skirt, and she looked across the room to the hallway where Hobson had just opened the front door to admit new arrivals. “If you’ll excuse me, I see we have more guests, and I must make them welcome.”

  She made a graceful exit, wondering who would be brave enough to arrive so late.

  “Mr Matthew Davenport, my Lady,” bowed Hobson, his voice deep and impressive. “Accompanied by his friend Sir Ragnor Withersby, who requests your kind permission to attend with Mr Davenport, since he himself has not personally received an invitation.”

  Maud smiled politely at Matthew, Lydia’s brother. “Hello Matthew. How lovely to see you. Your sister has been enjoying a rousing game of backgammon. I believe you might find her in the dining room now…”

  She turned to the other man, whose name was vaguely familiar. “Sir Ragnor. Good evening. Since you have Matthew’s approval, you are most welcome to join us.”

  Looking up, for he was taller than most everyone there, she met a pair of blue-grey eyes edged in very long black lashes. The twinkle in them could well have been described as wicked, as could the grin that curved full and sensual lips. But when he took her hand and raised it to those lips, he was everything that was proper.

  “I can ask for no more than this, my Lady. Your kindness to a stranger is most pleasant indeed.”

  “Thank you, Lady Maud,” grinned Matthew. “C’mon, Rag. Let’s go find m’sister.”

  “Of course.” Sir Ragnor bowed to Maud and one dark eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “Ma’am.”

  Maud watched them as they walked in to the parlour and toward the dining room.

  “That one is going to be trouble,” she muttered.

  “Aren’t they all, my Lady?” Hobson stood beside her and sighed.

  Chapter Two

  R agnor Withersby was unaware of Lady Maud’s assessment, and even had he known, he wouldn’t have done more than laugh and credit her with unusual acuity.

  He rather enjoyed trouble, at least when it occurred quite naturally around him. Which it tended to do, more often than not, even though he tried so hard not to instigate any of it himself. This evening, however, would be one of quiet and decorous conversation, innocent interactions, and probably a sub-standard offering of food.

  Just the sort of evening that would normally bore him silly.

  But his original engagement with a lady who might prove to be a replacement for his previous mistress had been postponed, leaving him at loose ends. Then he’d run into Matthew, a fellow endowed with sunny good humour and endless patience, and finally agreed to his entreaties that they go to the Sydenham House affair together.

  “Will there be play?” he’d asked hopefully.

  Matthew chuckled. “Not of the sort you mean. No high stakes games at all, I’m sure. But…I should mention that Sir Laurence Sydenham is reckoned to be one of the finest piquet players in town.”

  Ragnor blinked. “I knew I recognised that name from
somewhere. He’s the one who beat Lord Sinclair, a few years ago, isn’t he? Some ridiculous bet?”

  Matthew nodded as they stood in the doorway looking around the large salon. “Sinclair was convinced he was the best player ever. Wagered his entire stable on it. Sydenham trounced him in one straight partie. So badly, that Sinclair vowed to never touch a card again.”

  “Ouch.” Ragnor shuddered. “I’m sorry I missed that game. What did Sydenham do with the horses?”

  “He kept two of the best for himself and Lady Maud, then gave the others to those he felt could benefit from them.”

  “Really.” Ragnor’s eyebrows rose. “A philanthropist as well as a piquet expert. A man of many talents, it would seem.”

  “Indeed. He’s also charming.” Matthew grinned. “At this very moment, he’s over there being charming to my sister and another girl. Would you like to meet him?”

  “Apparently I must, since you are leaving me little choice,” remarked Ragnor, as Matthew took off for the far side of the room.

  Sir Laurence did indeed appear to be charming his audience—their faces glowed with rapt attention to his words.

  He was tall, not overly muscular, but certainly a man who looked like he could hunt and shoot with the best of them. And probably did. His garb was, to Ragnor’s eye, masterfully fitted, and his hair, greying slightly at the temples, had been styled to suit the man rather than the fashion.

  A well set-up aristocrat, thought Ragnor.

  And then he noticed the two girls who were now laughing at something he said.

  One, clearly Matthew’s sister, was blonde. Her eyes were striking; a dark brown, beneath full brows of the same shade. Unusual colouring, but it matched her brother’s to a tee.

  The other…well, she was a stranger.

  He took his time to observe her as Matthew approached the group and they opened to allow him in, responding to his merry chatter.

  Brunette, registered Ragnor. Brown eyes, slender figure. Nothing at all to attract anyone’s attention. Except…there was something there. Her skin was alabaster, flawless, her mouth a luscious pout of richly pink lips.

  And when animated—as she was at this moment—she was beyond stunning.

  Ragnor pulled himself together. He’d no use for young misses and this one had to be a virgin. She clearly wouldn’t be mistress material. Even worse, she might well fall into the hunting for a husband category.

  Since he was not in the market for a wife—God forbid—he should be polite, acknowledge her acquaintance, and then move on.

  So why did his eyes continually return to her face?

  “Ragnor. Come and be introduced.” Matthew summoned him. “Sir Laurence, ladies, this is my good friend Sir Ragnor Withersby. I persuaded him to accompany me, knowing he’d enjoy meeting you all.”

  “Sir Laurence,” bowed Ragnor. “An honour sir. I understand we share an affection for a certain card game?” He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

  “Aha. Piquet player, are you?” Sir Laurence grinned back. “Sadly, m’wife hasn’t put those out this evening.”

  Ragnor glanced around. “I believe that is probably a wise decision. A true piquet player must have a few years’ experience before venturing into public play.”

  “Ahem.”

  The brunette cleared her throat. “I do beg your pardon, but I think you might be making a false assumption, Sir Ragnor.”

  Both Ragnor and Sir Laurence stared at her.

  “I play piquet.”

  “You never mentioned that,” said Sir Laurence in surprise. “We could have had a few games if you’d told me.”

  Ragnor couldn’t decide if his host was shocked at her disclosure or disappointed he’d missed the chance to indulge his passion. Probably a bit of both.

  “You seem quite young to have mastered such a complex game, Miss…?”

  “My apologies.” Sir Laurence dipped his head. “May I present Miss Lydia Davenport—who you probably already know—and Miss Judith Fairhurst.”

  The appropriate curtseys and bows were exchanged.

  “Do you really play, Judith?” Lydia glanced at her. “I hear it’s a challenging game to master.”

  “I learned when I was very young,” said Judith quietly. “I have not, however, had the opportunity to play in far too long. My late uncle was not interested in playing cards with a woman.”

  “His loss,” said Sir Laurence in a comforting tone. “I have learned never to underestimate a woman’s intelligence.”

  “That’s because you had a good teacher, my love.” Lady Maud arrived at that opportune moment. “Lydia, I’m so glad your brother chose to attend. Have you all tried the raspberry biscuits?”

  “We did,” said Judith. “Extraordinarily delicious. I had three.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “So, dear, I’m going to slip away for a piquet deck. Our latest guest here shares my delight in the game. You won’t mind, will you?” Sir Laurence beamed lovingly at his wife.

  Who remained immune. “Sadly yes. I am about to kidnap you and bring you over to two lovely ladies. Lady Mellingham and Georgina Belgrave are here tonight with their offspring. They are distantly related to the Sydenham line so you cannot escape this, my dear.”

  Sir Laurence rolled his eyes. “I am outmanoeuvred, Sir Ragnor. My apologies. Perhaps another time?”

  “I shall look forward to it, sir,” bowed Ragnor, as his host departed, led firmly away by his wife.

  There was a moment of silence as the four remaining people looked at each other.

  Then Judith lifted her chin. “If we could find a deck of cards, I’d be quite happy to offer you a game of piquet, sir.”

  He watched her, feeling that she’d had to pull her courage together to make the suggestion. But he was pleased she had. “A delightful notion, Miss Fairhurst. Perhaps just one hand? For fun?”

  The next thing he knew, he was sitting across from a young lady who was most efficiently shuffling cards. Her movements were skilled, her hands steady as soon as she’d touched the deck.

  He was, he admitted, intrigued.

  *~~*~~*

  The joy Judith felt at the sensation of smooth cardboard sliding through her fingers was only slightly mitigated by the cool greyish blue eyes surveying her as she shuffled the piquet deck.

  Oh how she’d missed this. The games she’d shared with her mother, the fun and laughter and groans as she’d learned the complexities and subtleties of piquet. She’d been informed in no uncertain terms that for a woman to play this game was rare; some might condemn her for it, others look askance.

  Judith hadn’t cared a single whit. She had an affinity for numbers, she discovered, and put it to good use in piquet, since her curriculum as a young girl tended toward reading, sewing and housekeeping, not matters of mathematics. That was considered a male attribute, and unsuitable for those of the weaker sex.

  A small sheet of paper and a pencil lay on the table, in case they needed to record their scores. Judith knew she wouldn’t need to, but a tiny imp of mischief encouraged to her to present herself in a manner that this man would probably expect. A timid girl, trying to ape her betters and impress with her skills—in other words, trying to impress him. Which was doubtless why he’d suggested only one hand, instead of the six that customarily comprised a partie, or full game.

  She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, of course, although she found him interesting. His eyes, framed by those long and lush eyelashes, gave nothing away, and yet she thought now and again they betrayed a flicker of interest.

  Oddly enough, it happened every time she revealed her comfort with the shuffle, letting the cards riffle through her fingers in a manner probably not found in too many young women.

  Drawing for the deal, he graciously acknowledged her high card. “You have the younger hand, Miss Fairhurst.”

  “Thank you, sir. So it would appear.”

  His attitude, one of patient and patronising attention, set her teeth on edge He clear
ly expected to win with ease. After all, she was a mere child to his way of thinking. She nodded back and dealt the cards in triplet, scarcely even considering the actions which—to her—were second nature.

  Placing the remainder, the talon, in the centre of the table, she sat back and matched his movements as they both reviewed their cards.

  She waited patiently for him to discard.

  He exchanged five cards, and she studied his discards, weighing her options and the possibilities. This was the part she loved most; trying to calculate what he had left, and what he might have picked up from the talon. She could deduce what he was not saving by his discards. She also knew what she had in her hand, and the chances of adding to her score by discarding the cards of least value in the hopes of picking up something that would help.

  She discarded three, picking up another three and inwardly cheering. She had been lucky.

  Sir Ragnor glanced at her. “I believe I shall declare a point of five…”

  She tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Not good.”

  “A trio of aces.”

  “Good.” She kept her voice calm, hoping the cards she held might serve well. It would depend on what else he revealed.

  “Three, and four.” He led with the king of spades.

  Judith glanced at her hand. “A point of six, sixième for sixteen, twenty-two…” she placed her ace of spades on the table along with her other cards, “for twenty-three, and twenty-four.” She concluded with her king of clubs.

  There was silence for a moment or two as he surveyed her declarations.

  One eyebrow quivered slightly. “A five…” he put the ace of clubs down, “and here’s a lady for you.” The queen of spades appeared.

  Unhesitatingly, she followed with a seven of spades.

  He countered with the ten, which she took with her jack. After that it was simply a matter of collecting the tricks.

  As Sir Ragnor sighed and claimed the final trick, Judith folded her hands in front of her. “I believe that puts my score at forty-one, sir?”

  He gazed at her. “It does. And as I’m sure you know, my measly score barely registers.”