Jack of Clubs

by Barbara Metzger

  “Yes, she is fair and pretty, and yes, very young, when she lifts the veil she wears but—”

  Jack was gone, straightening his neckcloth as he ran toward the room behind the black door.

  A fashionably dressed young woman and her maid were the only occupants of the room, since it was past business hours. The lady’s face was indeed covered, but Jack recognized the quality of her clothes and the elegance of her posture as she sat on the wooden bench. He skidded to a halt in front of the lady, then knelt at her feet, taking her hands in his.

  “Lottie? Is it really you?”

  The maid shrieked and the young woman pulled her hands away and then slapped him.

  Jack rose and stepped back. “My pardon. I take it you are not my sister?”

  “But you are as much a rake as I heard.” The lady pulled back her veil.

  She was no one Jack recognized, but he knew few women in their teens. “You cannot be here seeking a position. If you are seeking thrills, go elsewhere. Well-bred misses are not welcome in The Red and the Black. I do not want irate fathers or husbands thundering through my rooms, demanding my blood or my gambling license.”

  The young lady blushed at his scorn, but she did not leave. “I have come for an introduction to my cousin. Nothing more.”

  “And your cousin is…?” Where Jack’s blood had been coursing, now it sank to his toes. He knew the answer before his unwelcome visitor opened her rosebud mouth.

  “Miss Allison Silver. I am Lady Margery Montague. My father is Earl Montjoy and my grandfather is—”

  “The Marquess of Montford,” Jack finished for her, then groaned. “He’ll try to shut my place down if he knows you are here, and he has the power and influence to do it, too.”

  “He’ll lock me in my room for a month if he finds out, but he need not know. My maid is loyal and will never tell, and my driver is her beau.”

  Jack looked at the maid dubiously, but she stood and curtsied. He had no choice but to trust her and her mistress, for the two minutes more he would permit them to remain. Lord, what if any early gamesters saw them leave and recognized the carriage or her gown? Montford would have his guts for garters.

  “Your cousin is not here.”

  “I know that. Everyone knows you moved her and the little girl to your brother’s home. But I promised Grandfather I would not call at Carde House. You must know that I do keep my promises.”

  “How very honorable of you,” he said, thinking that the chit reasoned like Harriet. Were all girls as devious? Heaven help Alex if the next babe was a daughter. “I do not believe it was the actual house your grandfather objected to. And I do think he would consider your coming to a gambling club a great deal worse.”

  Lady Margery tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Miss Silver is my cousin. I have a right to meet her. Besides, I admire her greatly. Goodness knows I would not be able to support myself if my family lost its fortune.”

  Lady Margery wore a pink gown with frills at the hem. She had on a light pelisse that was all the style, but not warm enough for the weather. The silly goose could not last a day on her own, much less make a career the way Allie had done. Jack doubted the debutante could dress herself, or heat water for tea. He felt ancient next to her naiveté.

  She was going on: “And I also admire her bravery. Everyone at Montford House heard about how she spoke up to the marquess. No one else has ever had the courage to shout at him.” She shuddered delicately. “I never have, at any rate.”

  “She is indeed a fine woman, your cousin,” Jack agreed. “But I do not think it is to the advantage of either of you to become acquainted. Your grandfather could make Miss Silver’s life more difficult if he chose.”

  “He is making my life difficult enough,” Lady Margery snapped back, showing her age and her temper and her spoiled nature. “The old crosspatch will not let me marry the man I love.”

  Ah, Jack thought. This was not about Allie at all. “What about your father? Surely Lord Montjoy is the one who has to approve your future husband.”

  “Not in my family. Grandfather makes all the decisions, because he holds all the bank accounts. Besides, my father is in the country where he always is, tending the estate. Not that Grandfather appreciates the work Papa does for him.”

  According to the word in town, Montjoy stayed in the shires rather than share a home with his martinet father.

  Lady Margery went on: “But I am old enough to be presented now, so the marquess sent for me and Mama to come to London.”

  “I thought coming to London was every girls’ dream.”

  “For the dancing and shopping, perhaps, the balls and the Venetian breakfasts. But Grandfather wishes me to make an advantageous match.” She spoke as if he wanted her to eat insects.

  “I believe all parents and grandparents wish the same thing for their children.”

  “But Grandfather only wants what is advantageous to him. A member of Parliament or some duke’s son, some fusty old man like him.”

  Jack shrugged. That was the way marriages were arranged in the upper echelons of English society. “And you wish to wed…?”

  “Harold, from home.”

  “Ah, Harold from home. He is not your groom, is he, or the stable boy?”

  “Of course not. I know what is due my name. He is the son of a baron whose land marches with ours. I have known him since the cradle, and have intended to wed him since I was ten.”

  “Did Harold know that?”

  Color flooded her cheeks, making her look even younger. “He has known since last year when he turned nineteen. I told him.” She lowered her brows at Jack’s snort. “But he agreed.”

  “Yet he does not ask for your hand like a man?”

  “He would have, if Grandfather would grant him an interview. Instead he called Harold an insolent dog.”

  A stripling nobody seeking the hand of a marquess’s granddaughter? That sounded like a presumptuous puppy to Jack. “Let me ask you this: would you be happy living in the country with your baron’s son?”

  “I like the balls here well enough, but Harold promises we can come to town in the spring. But yes, I enjoy country pursuits. We do have assemblies and dinner parties, you know, so it is not as if we are entirely isolated. Besides, I would miss my mama and papa if I had to move far away or stay in London all the time.”

  She was too young to marry anyone, Jack thought. It was none of his affair, of course, but he said, “You defied your grandfather by coming here. Why do you and Harold not elope to Gretna Green?”

  “Harold refuses. He says that would be dishonorable of him, destroying my reputation.”

  So the peageese had one brain between the two of them. “Harold sounds very, ah, noble. But what are you going to do, then?”

  “I intend to ruin myself.”

  Jack jumped back and looked at the maid, then at the door, ready to run. “Not with me, you are not.”

  “Don’t be silly. I am saving myself for Harold.”

  “Thank God. That is, of course you are. True love and all that.”

  Lady Margery ignored him. “But if I meet my cousin and befriend her, Grandfather will consider me fallen. I will be beneath his notice, like Allison’s mother was. He won’t be able to marry me off to one of his dreary old friends so he’ll have no choice but to let me go home and marry Harold.”

  “No, I will not help you ruin yourself. It would be bad for my business. Besides, your cousin is respectably established now. There is no gossip and no scandal, so you are wasting your time. Your grandfather might not like your knowing his outcast relation, but he cannot claim you are disgraced by meeting her.”

  “I would still like to meet her. Perhaps Cousin Allison will show me how to be brave enough to stand up to Grandfather.”

  Jack was not sure about Lady Margery’s motives, but he was pondering the potentials. Allie and her cousin. Allie and Montford’s acknowledged granddaughter. Allie and a member of the ton. The association could make a real
lady out of the governess.

  That was Allie’s rightful place in society, and Jack owed it to her to help her find it. Even if it tightened the noose around his own neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “We are going to the Egyptian Rooms at the museum tomorrow afternoon.”

  Lady Margery made a face reminiscent of Harriet’s when Miss Silver declared bedtime. Jack added, “It promises to be highly educational for my ward, and your cousin is interested in antiquities.”

  “We have some Roman ruins near our house. They are well and good for showing to guests, I suppose, but going to look at mummies? Those are dead people! Viewing them is worse than stepping on a grave. And there are supposed to be curses on those who dug them up.”

  “All of which is why Harriet is thrilled to be going.”

  “Gracious, has your ward no tender sensibilities?”

  Jack laughed. “Nary a one, I am pleased to say. You’ll see, if you meet us. Among the dead Egyptians. Did you know the kings buried their wives and their slaves in the pyramids with them? Alive, some say.”

  Lady Margery’s cheeks drained of color, and Jack was sorry he’d teased the girl, who seemed to have a surfeit of those fragile feelings, unlike Allie or Harriet, thank goodness. Montford’s granddaughter was blond and blue-eyed and rounded in society’s current ideal—and almost as much a child as Harriet in Jack’s jaded eyes. She was a lady, however, so he begged her pardon. “Besides, weren’t you the one who just spoke of learning to be brave? Put some starch in your spine, soldier.”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “I beg your pardon, I am used to lecturing raw recruits. What I meant to say was take a lesson from Macbeth and bring your courage to the sticking point.”

  She looked just as confounded.

  “That is, conquer your fears. If you cannot face a dead pharaoh, you will never stand up to Montford. Then you will never wed your parfit gentil knight.”

  “I told you, Harold is the son of a baron, not a knight.”

  Jack apologized again, his lips twitching.

  Lady Margery squared her shoulders and said, “But you are right. I shall do it. What time will you arrive? And will you tell my cousin of my intention to meet her?”

  “Gads, yes. You might think that Montford is hard to deal with when crossed. You have not met our Allie yet.”

  Lady Margery pulled her pelisse closer. “Perhaps I should reconsider if Miss Silver is another like my grandfather. I see no reason to suffer through the gruesome display if my cousin is not agreeable.”

  “Nonsense. Miss Silver is nothing like the marquess. She is perfect, and you will be proud to call her cousin.”

  Something in Jack’s voice—or his calling Cousin Allison “our Allie” and “perfect”—must have struck a chord in Lady Margery’s calculating mind. She smiled up at him and said, “You know, she is as much Montford’s granddaughter as I am, and you are an earl’s son.”

  “I am well aware of everyone’s ancestry, miss.”

  “Yes, but even my grandfather would have to admit that yours would be an ideal marr—”

  “Shall we say three o’clock?”

  *

  Allie said otherwise. “No, I see no reason to meet the young lady.” She untied her bonnet, prepared to stay behind when Jack and Harriet went to the museum.

  “What, you are not even a little curious?”

  “To see the sarcophagi? Yes, but I can go another day. To meet my cousin? You already told me she is a silly, spoiled little minx. I believe those were your exact words. Oh, and conniving too, I think you said. I taught enough young ladies like that to last me a lifetime.” Allie started to remove her precious new York tan gloves, being careful of the soft leather.

  Jack refrained from taking her hands in his to help, just barely. He took a step back, away from temptation, and said, “Yes, but she is a friendly minx who wishes to know her relative.”

  “Those so-called relatives have blithely ignored my existence for my entire life. I can happily ignore them now.”

  “Surely you are too fair-minded to blame Lady Margery for her elders’ antipathy. She is nothing but a girl. Perhaps she is trying to mend the rift.”

  “Without Lord Montford’s approval, I’d swear. I cannot condone disobedience. That would be a poor example for Harriet.”

  “You think Harriet obeys now?”

  “When it suits her. And when certain persons do not dare her to defy him by praising the trick riding at the circus, yet forbidding an eight-year-old to try standing on her pony’s back.”

  “The surgeon said her arm is not broken.”

  Allie went back to tugging off her second glove as if he had not spoken. “As you said, Lady Margery is young. She does not understand what trouble a powerful, wealthy, and determined man like Lord Montford can cause. He can disown her and withhold her dowry, as he did my mother. Will my cousin’s beau be so eager to wed her then? Or the marquess can send her away from her loved ones altogether, to some distant relative or tropical estate. A woman, especially a young woman, has no control over her future; the head of her household does.”

  “The girl is very aware of who holds the reins, but she wants to throw over the traces.”

  “Then she is a selfish miss, besides. Montford cannot disinherit his heir, of course, but he can keep funds from Lady Margery’s parents, or force them from their home. Would my cousin be happy knowing her parents were suffering because of her schoolgirl stubbornness?”

  “So should she forget about her childhood sweetheart and meekly accept her grandfather’s choice of husband for her? Montford is looking for a London politician or a diplomat, while Lady Margery prefers the country.”

  Allie hesitated, knowing a gently bred female was raised to be a pawn in the dynastic chess game. She also knew young girls—and old maids—had dreams of their own. “But what of you?”

  “As a prospective bridegroom? Montford would rather give the girl to Old Nick himself rather than me. Unless you were asking whether I preferred the country to the city. I much prefer town. Ruralizing is fine for hunt parties and picnics, but not much else that I can see.”

  “As you very well know, I was speaking about Montford’s ability to shut down your club for interfering with his plans. You told me yourself how much influence he has in the government. The magistrates are in his pocket, and half the courts. He can bring trumped up charges against The Red and the Black, and against me. He can ensure that I never find another position.”

  “No, he cannot do that. You shall have a place here as long as Harriet needs you. I need you.”

  “So you say. But if you lose your income? Or decide to send Harriet away to school? What then? Or perhaps her uncle might yet return to claim her or her grandmother in Bath could recover enough to wish Harriet’s company. I would still need to work.”

  “You are borrowing trouble. The grandmother is too old and the uncle too dissolute to want a poppet underfoot. And recall, my family is not entirely without money or muscle. Alex can and will protect his own.”

  Allie lowered her voice and twisted the gloves in her hand, showing her anxiety by ignoring the damage she was doing. “But I am not the Earl of Carde’s to protect. I am not his family or his employee.”

  “What, are you thinking I would leave you to the lions? Or that I cannot take care of my responsibilities? I told you I would not let anyone harm you, and I will not, not even Montford.” He took the gloves from her before she destroyed them entirely. “I thought you were coming to trust me. You can, you know. Now be as brave as I urged your cousin to be.”

  “What, is she afraid to meet me?”

  “No, she is afraid of dead Egyptians. If that silly twit can rise above her fears, you can spend an hour with her. Montford will never know a meeting was planned, so he cannot blame you, me, or Lady Margery. That is, if he hears of our encounter at the museum at all. I cannot imagine he will, for few of his cronies frequent such places, and town is thin of
company at this time of year anyway. Unless Hapworth from the London Lookout is having us followed, no one will publish our names in the gazettes.”

  He handed back her gloves, then watched as Allie pulled them on and straightened the fingers, smoothed the wrists. A man could endure only so much temptation, though. He brushed her hands aside and retied the ribbons on her bonnet himself, letting his hand rest on the side of her cheek for only a minute longer than necessary. That minute was necessary to him. He lowered his head toward her lips, telling himself that one more little kiss could not make him more of a cad.

  As she had the other times, Allie met him halfway. She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and licked her lips.

  “Aren’t you ready yet?” Harriet called from the door. “We’ll be late!”

  *

  Harriet was excited to be meeting Lady Margery and made her best curtsey without waiting for a proper introduction. The young woman was not her kin, she understood, but the lady might come to be vaguely related by marriage, if Harriet’s hopes and prayers and wishes came true. For a child who had known nothing but aged grandparents, a father far distant, and uncaring instructors, the bigger the family the better.

  “My grandfather was a viscount,” she boasted to Lady Margery, skipping ahead of the older girl and her maid through the door that led to the exhibits.

  Lady Margery did not want to go forward at all, but she would not be bested by an unmannered orphan with jam on her face. No, those were freckles, the poor thing. “My father is an earl.”

  “Well, my father was mentioned in the despatches. He was a brave hero.”

  Lady Margery’s father was not brave at all, staying in Nottingham rather than facing his own sire. She sighed, remembering Harold and her hoped for marriage.

  “That’s all right,” Harriet said, afraid she had hurt Lady Margery’s feelings before she could enlist the young woman’s help in making those wishes come true. “My uncle is a murderer.”

  Lady Margery clutched her vinaigrette and looked around for rescue. The captain had arrived in a large party, and was now speaking with Harold near the entrance to the museum. Lady Margery clutched the little container harder when she saw the captain’s companions.