Snowy Night With a Stranger

by Jane Feather

  Now he had one last game to play, and he glanced around the room to see who was still playing. There was only one couple left. Georgiana was facing her fiancé at a card table at the far side of the salon. Her expression was utterly neutral, her voice as she declared her cards without expression, her movement as she discarded and exchanged swift and purposeful. Her opponent was red-faced and clearly in a bad humor. He slammed his cards on the table, he cursed at his declarations, and he had frequent recourse to his wine glass.

  Ned wandered casually over to them. He took up a position behind Georgiana, leaning casually against the wall, arms folded, watching the play. And as he watched, his astonishment grew. She was cheating. With the same sleight of hand she’d exhibited with the ballot papers the previous evening, she was sliding cards she didn’t want onto her lap and replacing them with extricated cards from her sleeve. She certainly knew how to play the game; only someone really skilled at the play would actually succeed in cheating so cleverly. But why was she intent on making her betrothed so angry? Because that was certainly the consequence of her actions.

  When Godfrey Belton failed to cross the Rubicon he shoved back his chair with such force it nearly fell over. He stood up. “Well, madam, you think you’re very clever, I’m sure,” he declared. “You had the luck of the cards, that was all.”

  “I’m sure I did, Godfrey,” she said with a demure smile, gathering up the cards. “Will you pay me now or later?”

  There was a nasty moment when Ned thought Belton would explode with fury, but Lord Selby came over, rubbing his hands cheerfully. “All in good spirits, Belton, all in good humor,” he declared. “Give the girl her due, now, there’s a good fellow. She and Allenton are the only ones left standing, and judging by his play so far, she’ll have her work cut out for her.”

  The comment didn’t seem to appease Godfrey Belton, but Selby’s intervention had brought him to his senses. He dug into his pocket and hurled a handful of change onto the card table, muttered something inaudible and walked off.

  Georgiana appeared untroubled. She gathered up the coins and dropped them into her reticule, where they clinked satisfactorily against those already there. “Poor Godfrey,” she said. “He does so hate to lose.” She turned her bright eyes onto Ned. “And we shall see whether you also hate it, Lord Allenton.” She gestured to the chair vacated by Belton. “Do you care to take your seat?” Her hands moved swiftly over the cards, gathering them together, shuffling, rearranging.

  Ned was unsure whether he was more disturbed or amused and intrigued by what he’d seen, but he took his seat with a slight nod of acceptance. He gestured that she should make the first cut. She showed him the jack of clubs. He cut and drew the ten of diamonds.

  “Will you deal?” he asked, knowing that like any experienced player she would take the option. It would give her an initial disadvantage but avoid the bigger one of having to make the final deal of the partie.

  “I’ll deal,” she confirmed and swiftly dealt the twelve-card hands.

  Ned glanced around and saw that Selby had left and they had no audience for the moment. “I would be grateful if you would deal only the cards in this pack,” he said quietly. “I don’t like the ones you have in your sleeve.”

  He had the satisfaction of seeing her color rise. She looked up, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Damn,” she said. “You saw?”

  He nodded. “Why? Did you want to make him angry?”

  “No, but it couldn’t be helped. I wanted his money,” she said simply.

  “Would you mind not taking mine in that way?” he asked with a pleasant smile.

  “There’s little point if you’re looking out for it,” she said.

  “Why do you want his money?” Ned asked, examining his hand.

  Georgiana said nothing immediately. She examined her cards, wondering why she had this urge to confide in this stranger. He was nothing to her. And yet there was something about him that filled her with a sense of possibility. A sense she hadn’t had since she’d arrived in this palatial hell eighteen months ago. All prospect of a future she could make for herself had vanished the minute she’d understood what her guardian intended.

  She was facing a life of no expectations, a life of fear under the thumb of Godfrey Belton, a life where sometimes it seemed that death would be preferable. But Georgiana Carey was not inclined to accept a future forced upon her. And she was fighting this one with everything she had. Her brain told her that she must not confide her secret to anyone, but something other than her brain was telling her that as far as this stranger was concerned, she should.

  “Money’s always useful,” she said. “My guardian guards my fortune with exceptional zeal.”

  Ned looked at her quickly. Her face was drawn and angry although she didn’t raise her eyes from her hand of cards. “I see. Or at least I think I do,” he said. “It’s not an unusual situation though.”

  She looked up at him then, her eyes bright with anger and what he would have sworn was a sheen of unshed tears. “Did I say it was?”

  “No,” he agreed. “You didn’t. Shall we play?” He knew absolutely that if she shed as much as one tear it would be disastrous for her. He held up his cards, showing them to her quickly. “Carte blanche.”

  She grimaced. The declaration gave him an advantage, one she couldn’t match. They played intently for an hour. Ned was fairly certain she wasn’t cheating but sometimes he wasn’t so sure. He was half inclined to let her win, and if he hadn’t had his doubts about the validity of some of her declarations, he probably would have done so, but the competitive edge that had made his fortune for him in India was too close to the surface. She was a good player, but he was a better one.

  He made the final deal, which should have put him at a disadvantage, and Georgiana realized properly for the first time the viscount’s skill as a gamester. He never made a mistake, making his plays with precise judgment that she couldn’t help but admire despite her growing annoyance at her own shortcomings. She muttered something most unladylike under her breath as she discarded a card and realized instantly that it was a guard she should have kept. For a moment she wondered if she was facing the humiliation of failing to make a hundred points in the partie, and thus failing to cross the Rubicon, but when the game was over, and the points counted, she had at least managed to avert that fate. But there was no question who had the winner’s laurels.

  Georgiana gathered up the cards. “Congratulations, my lord, you are a superb player.”

  He regarded her with a half smile. “But you, of course, were handicapped.”

  “I don’t always cheat,” she said softly, flushing. “Only when it’s necessary. I wasn’t prepared to lose to Godfrey.”

  “It might have been politic,” he responded with a frown. “He has a nasty temper.” He bowed. “Thank you for the game, ma’am.”

  “Allenton, it’s for you to choose Georgiana’s forfeit,” Selby announced. “What’s it to be?”

  Georgiana looked toward Allenton. The viscount was standing before the fire, regarding her with an air of amusement, head slightly tilted as he considered the question. The object of the forfeits was to entertain their fellow guests. Selby had been choosing the silliest activities for the previous losers, balancing full glasses on their heads, or walking blindfolded around the room. Fairly innocuous party games. Godfrey would have demanded much more vicious penalties.

  “Maybe the lady would give us a card trick?” he suggested. “I’m sure she has plenty up her sleeve.”

  Georgiana bit her lip. He was teasing her and she was unsure whether to laugh or throw something at him. “I don’t know any card tricks,” she objected.

  “Oh, come now, I’m certain that you do,” he said. “Maybe a trick with that glass bowl over there.” He gestured to the bowl she had used the previous evening to collect the votes for Lord of Misrule.

  The damnable man had seen that too. Georgiana stared at him. His teasing was sailing close to th
e wind, and yet she was sure he would not betray her.

  Ned laughed. “Never mind, I withdraw the forfeit. You are excused, Lady Georgiana.” He bowed again.

  There were cries of “Shame,” but Jacobs’s arrival to announce luncheon swiftly silenced them and the party surged toward the dining room, leaving only Ned and Georgiana in the salon.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t thank me too soon,” he said carelessly. “I’m probably going to ask for something in exchange.”

  Now what the devil did he mean by that? Georgiana followed him as he strode from the room, but instead of following the crowd to the dining room she turned aside and went upstairs to her own chamber. Viscount Allenton was having a strangely unsettling effect on her and she needed time to compose herself.

  Chapter Five

  The party dispersed after a luncheon heavy on wine, venison pasties and plum puddings, and Ned made his way to the library intent on finding a book to while away the tedium of the long afternoon ahead. Georgiana had not appeared at the table, but this seemed to draw no remark either from her guardian or her fiancé, so he guessed they were accustomed to her absences from this meal. He hadn’t faced luncheon with much enthusiasm either, it coming so soon after the lavish breakfast, and he’d eaten sparingly, conscious of the vast Christmas dinner to come. He was used to the laden tables of British society in India, where overindulgence was the norm. But at least some physical activity preceded and generally followed the mountains of food and oceans of drink that were consumed under the soft wafting breezes from the punkah fans.

  He sighed, wishing he were back in his office in Madras, managing the brokerage, juggling figures, organizing his empire. It would run smoothly enough without him—he had trained his subordinates well—but his brain itched for some exercise almost as desperately as his body.

  He entered the library and paused. “I trust I’m not interrupting.”

  “Not at all, dear fellow, not at all.” Roger Selby, pipe in hand, waved a welcoming arm from a deep chair beside the fire. “Come in, have a glass of port, excellent for the digestion.” He raised the cut-glass decanter at his elbow and filled a second glass. “Take a pew, dear boy.”

  “Thank you.” Ned took the glass and sat down in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. He sipped and looked for some innocuous topic of conversation but his host had his own chosen topic.

  “Fortuitous your fetching up on my doorstep, actually, Allenton,” Selby said, puffing meditatively on his pipe. “There’s a rather awkward matter of business we need to settle…much easier to discuss with a glass in hand beside the fire. We can have a nice friendly discussion.”

  Ned felt his hackles rise but he wasn’t quite sure why. But he was sure that Selby had something unpleasant up his sleeve. “Please continue,” he said neutrally, taking another sip of his wine.

  “Well, fact of the matter is, Allenton, your brother owed me money. And I was wondering when you would see your way to repaying it.”

  “Ah.” Ned felt himself relax. When it came to money he was quite at his ease. “Perhaps you should explain the circumstances. I wasn’t aware that you and my brother were on such terms.”

  “Oh, it was a business transaction, sir—a nice piece of land I sold him—but there was some unpleasantness. Shame your brother wasn’t the man he was when you last saw him.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Very short memory he had. He disputed the transaction, although I had the bill of sale. Said the land wasn’t worth the money, but we had an agreement, signed and sealed.”

  My cousin is not an honest broker. Ned was now convinced that Georgiana had never spoken a truer word. “Where is this piece of land?” he inquired, his expression calm and pleasant.

  “Just up by Cochrane Pike.” Selby puffed on his pipe, sending up a curl of smoke.

  “That’s not farming land, up there in the hills.”

  “Good grazing for sheep,” Selby said. He was watching Ned closely, eyes hooded.

  “We don’t have sheep at Allenton—never have had,” Ned said, wondering if Rob had decided to branch out for some scatterbrained reason. He had always been full of impulses and bright ideas that frittered away money and never achieved anything.

  “Your brother was right keen on the idea when we talked of it, said he’d like some grazing land. I told him I had some and we sealed the bargain there and then.”

  Selby refilled his glass from the decanter, gestured toward his guest, then saw that Ned had barely touched his. He tapped his pipe against the hearth. “Your brother reneged on the agreement. He told me he’d changed his mind when he saw the land. But a deal’s a deal in these parts, although perhaps you’ve forgotten our ways,” he added with a sly smile.

  “Do you have the bill of sale?” Ned inquired, keeping his tone pleasant.

  “Aye, that I do.” Selby pushed himself out of his chair and went to the desk. “As it happens I was just looking at it a few minutes ago.”

  He brought the document to Ned, who took it with a nod of thanks.

  Ned ran his eye over the single page. It was not a legal document, looked rather as if it had been drawn up in a tavern. Robert’s signature was shaky, the lines wavering over the page. He looked up. “Was my brother drunk when he signed this?”

  “What difference does that make?” Selby’s tone took on just the slightest edge of belligerence. “He signed it, and promised to pay two thousand guineas. And I’m asking you, my lord, when you intend to make good on your brother’s debt? You’ll find yourself unpopular in these parts if you don’t honor the obligation. But I daresay you’ve been gone so long you’ve forgotten how we do things.” Again that sly comment, and the sudden narrowing of the eyes.

  “As it happens,” Ned said, “I haven’t forgotten anything, Selby. Are you telling me my brother bought this land off you sight unseen? With no provision for renegotiation once he’d seen it?” Not even Rob would have been that foolish.

  “Are you doubting my word, sir?” Selby sat up higher in his chair.

  Indeed I am. But Ned only said calmly, “Not in the least. But before I assume the debt I claim the right to look at the land myself. I’d like to see what I’m buying…and also I’d like to take this document to my own lawyer for verification.”

  He folded the sheet and slipped it into his inside pocket. “Once those formalities are completed I shall be delighted to settle the debt.” He smiled as he rose to his feet. “I thank you for the port. And for the timely reminder about how business matters are conducted in these parts.” He offered a nodding bow and walked out without giving his host the opportunity for objection.

  No wonder Selby had been so hospitable. He’d seen in his neighbor’s unexpected arrival the opportunity to pursue a matter that he had presumably given up on when Rob died. He’d clearly thought that the obligations of a guest would put Ned at a disadvantage, and that his long absence in the Indian heat had dulled his native wit. Once a reiver always a reiver, Ned reflected. Even though the plundering was conducted in a rather less violent fashion than in the past, the end result was the same. Ill-gotten gains one way or another.

  He went upstairs, deciding he had no desire for the company of his fellow guests. They were an uncouth group, and not for the first time he wondered where Selby had recruited them. For the second time he’d failed in his primary purpose in visiting the library, but a stroll around the house would probably be better for him than a book by the fire, and he remembered Belton had said something the previous evening about a Long Gallery. It might be worth a visit.

  He sauntered down a corridor running to the right of the galleried landing and came upon the gallery behind open double doors at the end. Long windows along one wall overlooked the parkland, the remaining walls bore ancestral portraits of the usual kind. A few sofas were scattered around on the parquet floor.

  Ned took a step into the room and then stopped, moving back into the doorway again.

  “I
tell you, woman, you’ll learn to keep a still tongue in your head…what business did you have telling that arrogant son of a bitch about Great Ryle?” Godfrey Belton’s voice rose on each syllable.

  “It’s no secret, Godfrey,” Georgiana protested.

  Ned stepped back into the room. The voices were coming from a curtained embrasure at the far end of the room. The curtains were open and he could see Georgiana’s back, which was turned to him as she faced Belton. He trod softly towards them, keeping himself against the windows so that he was out of their line of sight.

  “It’s my business. And I won’t have you blabbing my business to anyone. You’re too friendly by half with Allenton, I’ve seen the way you make eyes at him, don’t think that I haven’t. And by God, girl, you’ll learn that I don’t tolerate my woman looking at anyone else.”

  His voice was a furious bellow and Ned heard Georgiana’s swift intake of breath and a bitten-back cry. He moved quickly toward them as she said, “Let go of me, Godfrey. You’re hurting my arm.”

  “Oh, I’ll do more than that,” her betrothed declared, “if I ever catch you looking at another man—” Whatever else he’d been about to say or do was lost in a howl of pain.

  Ned, no longer interested in trying to hide his approach, had a full view of the scene. Georgiana moved with the speed and decision of a striking cobra. Her knee went up into Godfrey’s groin and her right hand chopped into the back of his neck as he bent over in agony, gasping and spluttering.

  “Don’t you ever hurt me again, Godfrey,” she stated. “Because you’d better believe that I will hurt you more.” She turned in disgust from the collapsed and groaning figure of her fiancé and saw Ned, standing several feet away, out of Godfrey’s line of sight.