Tempted By Fire

by Thea Devine

  "By doing exactly what they claim you were doing: playing the cards and playing to the crowd?"

  "Yet it is fine with them when my lord does it. No scandal attaches to him. The woman must be his downfall."

  "It was ever so, Diana."

  "The siren who leads him into every kind of hell."

  "The story is as old as the bible, Diana. Nothing has changed."

  "I am not ashamed," she said fiercely. "But perhaps my lord is."

  "It is as simple as this: Lady Southam does not frequent gambling dens,"

  "As opposed to all the other high-born ladies who do?" Jainee inquired sarcastically. "Or play cards for cutthroat stakes when their husbands are not around? What is the difference?"

  "The difference is, it is my money you would be gambling away."

  "But you are gambling it away anyway, and I most assuredly would win."

  "But you will most assuredly stay away, no matter how much visibility you believe it will give you."

  "Will you, my lord?" she asked craftily.

  "I don't have to, Diana," he reminded her disdainfully. "You do tend to forget who is in debt to whom here, and who ought to exhibit more gratitude for her position."

  "Oh, so we are back to that, my lord? It seems I have no position, if your friends are to stand in judgment."

  "You never back down."

  "No, my lord. I only get back up."

  And he saw the truth of that as they attended this social gathering and that and the response to her presence was almost uniformly the same.

  Moreover, the marriage crimped his plans as well. It was impossible to make excuses night after night in order for him to make his

  394

  rounds amongst his intimates, and that hampered the progress he had already made.

  He saw the season slipping away and with it, the easy access to those who were propelling the country into monstrous debt. And he saw the winter, when they were squirreled away in the country, as a stretch of time out of hand, where nothing would be accomplished.

  Or was it just that he would miss the excitement?

  The folly of his irrevocable gesture came home to roost: she would never be a lord's proper wife. Nor would he have the peace to fulfill his commission until she were somewhere safely out of the way for the rest of the season, and the search for her mythic father suspended.

  One night, after the theater, when he knew Coxe would be abroad at Lady Badlington's he left Jainee asleep in his bed in the satiety of their lovemaking, certain she would not be an impediment to his gaming this evening.

  But the minute the door closed, she sat bolt upright.

  "Dieu—it is ever so with men," she muttered, sitting with her arms crossed, waiting to hear the tell-tale clip of horse hooves before she rang for Marie.

  "I am going out," she announced when Marie appeared. "The tunic dress will suit me fine, the diadem, pearls, the blue gloves and silver bracelets. The velvet cape—hurry!"

  She had no idea where Southam was headed, but he might very well be on his way to Lady Badlington's. So be it. She needed to present herself at Lady Badlington's too—not as the lady in black, but as herself, the woman who was the equal of all the hypocrites who had turned their backs on her in all their fancy salons for the past two weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was merely a matter of mentioning her name, haughtily of course as if she had expected she would be instantly recognized.. since she was the talk of London: "I? Why, I am Lady Southam," was all the introduction she needed to gain entry to Lady Badlington's.

  Even so, she furtively glanced around before she walked through the portals because she was sure she had been followed. And then she handed her cape to a footman, and followed him into the reception hallway.

  Lady Badlington wafted forward to greet her. "You are?"

  "Permit me—I am Lady Southam, of course."

  "Ahhhh . . ." Such a speculative and long drawn out ahhh, as if she weren't quite sure, what with the lady's reputation, and then had reconsidered in light of the enormous sums which Southam had left deposited in her house.

  "You are welcome, of course," Lady Badlington said. "Tell me, what is your pleasure?"

  Her pleasure was to find Southam and roundly tell him what she thought of him sneaking out on her. But necessity overrode that need almost instantly when she contemplated for a moment how much money she had already pocketed as the mystery lady in black. Almost enough to buy back her debt to Southam, she thought. Almost enough to buy a new life.

  "The card table beckons me tonight, Lady Badlington. Faro or perhaps vingt-et-un. But did you say my lord was here tonight?"

  Lady Badlington's eyebrows rose a fraction. "I had supposed

  that was why you had come."

  396

  Jainee smiled nastily. "But no, my lady. As his time is his own, so is mine. I never like to see talent wasted, do you?"

  Lady Badlington left her then and she wandered into the main room and exchanged some silver for a stack of counters before she sat in on a game.

  It was child's play, and the reckless desperate ones were easy to spot. And the ones who had maligned her, they were all here: Ottershaw, Chevrington, Annesley, Dunstan Carradine.

  Annesley strolled over, a snide look on his face. "Dear Lady Southam. What nerve you have, showing your face in public."

  She hated him right then, virulently and violently, because he was everything an aristocrat was supposed to be—and he was less, and he didn't care who knew it. "And what nerve have you, Mr. Annesley? Would you challenge me on my terrain?"

  He was taken aback by her direct attack. She amazed him all the time. He had expected that she would retire into Southam's house until the end of the season after the first set-down, and what had she done but flaunt herself all over London on Southam's arm and win Lady Jane Griswold's approbation into the bargain. She was not an easy piece, but he was never a man to refuse such a challenge.

  He bowed stiffly. "Your servant, Lady Southam."

  •"Your choice of venue, Mr. Annesley."

  And now everyone was watching them, and Jainee wondered just where Southam had got to, if indeed he had come this evening.

  "Piquet would suit me," Annesley said cautiously.

  "Lady Badlington should be able to provide us a table. Set the stakes, Mr. Annesley."

  He hated her, he absolutely hated her; everyone was all ears, listening to her imperious commands. Across the room, neither had already moved out of the line of fire.

  But the stake could be limitless, he thought, what with Southam's backing—and why shouldn't he bankrupt the bastard after the way he had treated him? Dunstan would understand perfectly, if the expression on his face were anything to go by. He

  397

  could swear Nicholas' uncle hated the bitch, but that seething contempt in his eyes vanished in an instant, and he came forward to join them, playing the part of the voice of reason.

  "My dear Jainee—surely you don't mean to . . ."

  "Of course, uncle. I would never have suggested it if I did not mean to , . ."

  "But Nicholas-"

  "My lord has nothing to do with this," Jainee said sharply. "This is between myself and Mr. Annesley, for the gaming room is my salon, and here there is no distinction in station."

  No one misunderstood what she meant, or what challenge she had issued to Annesley. He looked, in fact, excessively uncomfortable in spite of the fact he was certain he would come away a winner.

  "A table has been made ready." This was Chevrington, sent expressly by Lady Badlington to announce she had prepared a space for them to play.

  "Mr. Annesley . . . ?"

  He had to lead the way, which meant he could not look at Jainee's face or read what was in her eyes. But she was a damned cold-blooded bitch if she could agree to his terms and coolly allow him to turn his back on her.

  God, wait till Southam heard she was here, he thought as they entered a small and secluded alcov
e in the back of the house, away from the main card room.

  "This will do nicely," Annesley said, as he pulled away a chair for Jainee and then seated himself. Ottershaw and Carradine pulled up chairs around him, and he felt as if he had girded for battle.

  But he hated the fact she looked so amused, so calm, so certain as she removed the requisite cards from the deck and shuffled the remaining thirty-two.

  "Your cut, Mr. Annesley."

  He cut.

  "You may have the deal," she added, setting the deck in front of him.

  "As you wish, Lady Southam. Let the game begin."

  398

  * * *

  There was a point at which Annesley began to be glad that they were playing in relative isolation. He did not like the pile of counters on her side of the table, markers for the points he had lost which enumerated silver and honor.

  Ottershaw had gotten disgusted and left, and sometime later, Dunstan had disappeared as well. So there was no one to witness his outrageous downfall but the capricious and smug Lady Southam, who gathered her counters and waited for him to determine the end of the game.

  Or maybe Dunstan had gone to find Nicholas. He hoped Dunstan had gone to find Nicholas; it was just the thing a man's friend should do in this situation, especially when the bitch was enjoying her revenge.

  Assuming she even knew . . . ?

  It was her smile more than anything, that slight curve of the mouth that never changed and kept him completely off-balance. That smile said that she knew exactly what she was doing and that he didn't.

  He hated that smile. Every time he took the trick from her, he felt like smashing the cards right into her face. That smile said that his win had been pure luck and that she would win capot next time, and he had better beware.

  "All that they have said about you is true," he muttered, as she dealt the cards, laid out the stack and considered her first discard. She laid in three cards and replenished with three from the stack.

  He discarded five and removed five more and they began the order of declarations.

  "I begin," Jainee said. "Point of five."

  "How much?"

  "I make it eleven."

  "Good."

  "Tierce."

  "Equal."

  "Jack."

  "Good."

  399

  "Trio."

  "Equal."

  "Ten."

  "Jack."

  She scored her points, the last of which she had lost to his superior card, and led with her first suit.

  "How perfect, Diana—queen of hearts."

  "My lord?" she said equably, not even looking at him.

  "I believe it is time to leave."

  "Never say so, my lord; we have yet to commence the game. Mr. Annesley?"

  He looked at Nicholas and he played a card: she took a trick, announced the point, and led the next.

  The play went fast and furiously after that; she routed him with nine tricks to his three in the first deal of the six they had agreed upon.

  She took the deal and they began again; she never took notice of Southam lounging in the doorway, coolly waiting for the outcome of the duel.

  Annesley was perspiring, but it was his custom never to reveal a weakness. Only a friend who knew him well could see that Diana, queen of clubs, was beating him thoroughly at his own game.

  Nothing about her had changed since the first time he had seen her presiding over the tables. She still wore that faint amused smile; she still focused on the game to the exclusion of everything else. She was still a player with a rapier mind who could spontaneously turn the advantage.

  She still was dangerous.

  "Pic, repic and capot, Mr. Annesley," she said at last in triumph as she counted her points. "I believe my point is proved.''

  "You will accept my vowels," he said stiffly.

  "With pleasure."

  He reached into the drawer of the table and pulled out a draft and a pen and a bottle of ink which were kept there just for that purpose, and wrote out the amount, signed it and handed it to her.

  400

  Thank you, Mr. Annesley."

  "Your servant, Lady Southam," he muttered, bowing to her and Southam and tactically withdrawing.

  She handed him the draft. "I have covered your losses, my lord. I do believe we might make an excellent team in this manner—if you feel you must keep losing so disastrously all the time. I must say, my lord, that your friends all took great pains to apprise me of that fact."

  She pushed in her chair and a thought struck her. "Or perhaps I might finally repay my debt—that would be most refreshing to me. Are you coming, my lord? I believe I would like to try the faro table next."

  "You have already tried my patience past the boiling point, Diana," he said roughly, grasping her arm and pulling her back. "It is time to leave and to stop making a spectacle of yourself."

  "I?" she asked, horrified. "How so, my lord, when I distinctly saw Miss Callaway and Lady Codrington engrossed in loo in the first salon. Can they be more respectable than Lady Southam?"

  "They were never hostesses in a Brighton gambling den, my lady, and I think their reputations will not suffer on account of it."

  "What a pity: I play so much better than they."

  "And so you have shown them this evening, and what do you suppose Annesley will do with that?"

  "He will not boast that he lost to me."

  "No, rather he will smear your name all around town that you are exactly as the gossip portrayed you," he said angrily.

  "And you are not, despite the fact you visit this house regularly and drop monstrous sums in the laps of men with half your intelligence. So we return to the original point, do we not? And yet, I was not that man's inferior across the table, and it did not matter where I came from or what I had done four months in the past. All that mattered is that I controlled the cards."

  "All that matters is that you want to control everything."

  "Is it not just, my lord? I am much more sensible than everyone else."

  401

  "You are reckless, troublesome and dangerous in your innocence, Diana. And if I had thought about it—"

  "But you didn't, and neither did I. I never dreamed that I would be so stifled and constrained in my actions. It never occurred to me that women of impeccable reputations could gamble with impunity, but a woman with talent and intelligence and year's experience behind the tables could not. I bow to your point, my lord. You have taken on a woman who is less than docile, and I have bargained myself into a life of confinement and suppression. If you had thought about it, my Lord, you never would have offered to protect Lady Waynflete."

  Perhaps I chose to protect you.

  The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, thundering through his mind, his heart. But it didn't matter—he had chosen, and the choice had bound her to him: the reason didn't matter. "I need to protect you now," he said finally. "It is too much: the talk, the snubs, and now this. I want you away from here."

  She felt a coldness envelop her heart, her hands. "Away?" she murmured reluctantly. "Where?"

  He guided her out of the alcove, toward the lights and the people so that she could not protest his decision in so public a place. "To Southam, of course, and I will join you next month."

  She balked and he pressured her forward. "I will not go."

  "Of course you will go, Diana. The memory of the ton is notoriously short: some new sensation will overtake it within a week. But meantime you will be out of the line of fire, and by next season, your escapades will have diminished into anecdotes and you will have been labeled an Original."

  "I am sure that is satisfactory to you, my lord, but I do not wish to leave London."

  "You do not wish to leave the gaming table either, but that is of no moment." He signalled to the butler as they came into the reception room.

  All eyes turned toward them.

  "I am more at home here than ever I would be at Southam."

 
"But it is not necessary to show that to every manjack in the whole of the city."

  402

  "And it is not necessary to hide me away as if I had some disfigurement," she snapped, catching the edges of her cap as it was laid across her shoulders.

  "This is worse: it is a distortion of your past and a stain on your reputation."

  "Your reputation, you mean," she shot back. "And thus does the disdainful Lord Southam bow once again to the great god of appearances."

  "I genuflect to the god of disappearances—get into that carriage."

  "Umph," she said roundly, as he pushed her in.

  "Nor do you know when it is best to be quiet," he added stringently.

  "Never!" she hissed.

  "I expected so other answer. And so—we are going to Southam."

  ******************

  Annesley, sulking in a corner, had avoided company for almost the whole time that Nicholas and that lady strumpet were in the house. He had not yet thought of a way to minimize his losses at her hands, and he would be hard put to make good the debt. But that ignominy paled beside his fulminating desire to pay her back in her own coin.

  "What do you think?" he said to Chevrington who had come by to inquire whether he wished to join a table at vingt-et-un. "I just had the most unholy thought."

  "My dear Annesley ... do tell."

  "She was an absolute bitch at the cards."

  "So rumor said."

  "Well — think, man: has there not been another woman of equal skill and success patronizing this house of late?”

  "No," Chevrington breathed. "Do you think?"

  "Why think?" Annesley said nastily. "Who not just— say? We’ll top scandal with scandal. Surely it's possible. Did not Lady Badlington say the woman in black played like she had read all the chapters in the devil's books? I tell you, it's as likely as any-

  403

  thing else. And even if it aint so, I mean to get the bitch back for tossing me tail over top tonight. Cold-bloodedly she did it, Chewy—and I will never forgive it. Out to prove something, the little drab from the gutter. Well, I'm going to prove something to her: she can't rout a man at cards and expect to get away with it."