One eyebrow rose skeptically. "What are you suggesting?"
"You are a gambler. You should not be opposed to engaging with me in a game of chance. Chemin de fer, perhaps?"
He gave her a patronizing smile. "And for what stakes shall we play, chérie?"
"Matthew's vowels, of course. And if you win, you shall have a night with me."
"Merely one night?"
Lauren reached up to run a slender finger along his lower lip. "A week, then. I am worth it, I think."
"Agreed, mademoiselle, if I will at last be allowed to view the lovely face behind the mask."
Jason would kill her, Lauren thought as she returned a provocative smile. But it seemed the only way to save Matthew from jail. She didn't have great faith in her ability to defeat Felix at cards, but she thought she could manage to make the play challenging enough to give him a scare. And that might lead him to make a very big mistake.
Easing herself from Felix's embrace, Lauren turned and led the way to the crowded gaming rooms. She wanted to be very certain there were other people nearby when she exposed Felix Duval as a cheat.
As luck would have it, Desiree Chaudier was working the chemin de fer table. The beautiful brunette scowled the moment she saw Lauren. "I see the Amazon has returned,"
Desiree said nastily, calling attention to Lauren's height.
Lauren ignored the slur and flashed a cool smile at the five men already seated at the table. "M'sieurs, you will kindly allow us to join you, non?"
At once, all five gentlemen rose and made a great show of inviting the husky-voiced Marguerite to participate. Desiree took immediate exception. "You cannot! Madame Gescard will forbid it."
"Tonight I am a guest," Lauren replied as she allowed a balding overweight gamester named Smithson to seat her. "And my great friend M'sieur Duval wishes to play with me."
Other than cause a scene, Desiree had no choice but to back down. She acceded with poor grace, while the players made room, less enthusiastically, for Felix Duval.
He wound up sitting two seats to Lauren's left, which pleased her. She had chosen chemin de fer because it offered numerous opportunities for a cardsharp to execute a sleight of hand. The dealer changed frequently, and the initial two cards each player received were turned facedown, making them easy targets for marking or substitution. In order to catch Felix at cheating, however, she had to be close enough to see him.
The decks were shuffled and cut, then placed in the dealing box called a shoe. Lauren bid low when the deal was auctioned, for she wanted to see what Felix would do. The Creole seemed to be waiting also, since he allowed the deal to go to the bald gentleman.
"The bank is three hundred dollars," Smithson announced, before beginning the first hand.
The bets were conservative at the start, with Smithson winning the first three coups, then losing on a natural eight. When the deal passed to the left, Lauren increased the betting in order to drive up the stakes. Her first two cards totaled five, but when she drew another, it was a queen, which put her over the required count of nine.
"A pity, chérie," Felix remarked with mild sarcasm.
Accepting her loss with a shrug, Lauren flashed him a challenging smile. "But can you do better, m'sieur?"
"Watch and you shall see."
Lauren did watch, carefully, as Felix bancoed by matching the entire bank with his wager. She could see no indication, though, that his play was anything but aboveboard, for he made no extraordinary moves, and he hadn't had time to mark any of the cards. His impassive face revealed no emotion as he added the value of his cards and elected to stand.
An eight to the dealer's seven, Lauren saw with disappointment when the card was revealed. As long as Felix won so handily, he would never be desperate enough to try anything underhanded.
To Lauren's dismay, he continued to win—at least until the deal had gone once around the table and again belonged to her. Then Duval's luck took a downturn, while Lauren's improved. Twice she had a natural—a count of nine—in the first two cards, and since she was holding the bank, she won all bets. Felix's confidence remained strong, however, even when he began losing steadily.
The deal went around the table once more, with Lauren again winning several hands. When it was Felix's to deal, she watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye. If he were to make a move, she thought, it would probably be while he controlled the cards.
She was right, although she almost missed his deft sleight of hand; Duval slipped a card from the shoe and let it fall to the floor so smoothly and quickly that Lauren knew he must have practiced the motion regularly. She resisted the urge to cry foul, though, knowing a charge of cheating would only stick if he were caught redhanded.
Her impatience was growing thin by the time Duval won several more coups, for he still hadn't reached for the fallen card. Lauren took a deep breath and gambled. "Banco," she declared, hoping that the bank of five hundred dollars would be too large for Felix to risk losing.
All smaller bets had to be withdrawn, and Smithson, who had also been losing, decided to fold. As he left the table, Lauren counted her points. The total came to four, so she had no choice but to draw. She could feel her palms sweating as she asked for another card.
A four. She was still in. She glanced at Felix, realizing as she met his penetrating dark gaze that her own calm expression was no more revealing than his own. Smiling slightly then, she tried to look as if she were repressing excitement over a winning hand.
Elation coursed through her when she saw Felix draw a lace- edged handkerchief from his pocket. When he dropped it as if by accident, then bent to pick it up, Lauren knew the fallen card would be concealed in its folds. She opened her mouth to denounce him, just as a tall, tawny-haired man dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches moved into her range of vision.
"M'sieur Stuart!" Desiree crooned, while Lauren nearly jumped.
"How careless of someone," Jason drawled as he bent casually to pick up the card he had purposely stepped on. "The two of spades was lying beside your chair, Duval." He flicked the card on the table, then smiled dismissively at the other gamesters, managing to defuse the potentially explosive incident with his unconcern.
Felix kept his face carefully blank as he added the spade to the discards. Lauren would have seen a muscle in his jaw tighten had she been watching, but she was staring at Jason in dismay. She had been startled by his sudden appearance, then angry when he had foiled her carefully prepared trap, yet she could only bemoan her ill luck in silence.
When he greeted Desiree with a liberal dose of masculine charm, Lauren nearly ground her teeth in frustration. He turned to her then with a polite bow, his gaze locking with hers. "Mademoiselle Marguerite, is it not? I had the great pleasure of hearing you sing some weeks ago."
She was taken aback by the smoldering anger in his blue eyes. Realizing she would be lucky to get home with her skin intact, Lauren managed to murmur a reply. She was too disquieted, though, to protest when Jason asked to join the game and seated himself at the table. She didn't even smile when she discovered she had won the bank of five hundred dollars with her hand of eight. With the two of spades, Felix's total would have been nine.
The play turned deadly serious after that, probably, Lauren decided, because Felix seemed determined to win at any cost. He didn't have much luck against Jason's phenomenal skill, however, nor did anyone else. One by one the other gamesters dropped out, making it a contest between the two men. By the time three hours had passed, Felix had lost more than five thousand dollars, and Jason's winnings were nearly double that.
"You are very lucky, m'sieur," Felix said at last, barely keeping his tone civil.
Jason raked in the proceeds from the last coup, then looked up to fix his gaze steadily on the Creole. "Some hold the belief that a man makes his own luck. I would have thought you agreed. Or did the two of spades just happen to fall off the table by itself earlier this evening?"
Felix's face darkened in anger.
"Is that an accusation?" he demanded in a dangerous voice.
Lauren stirred uneasily in her chair. The other players had drifted away, so only she and Desiree were left to observe the brewing confrontation.
"I see no need to make any accusations," Jason replied evenly. "Madame Gescard will hear of the incident, I don't doubt, and take the proper precautions. But perhaps you ought see that no stray cards end up in your vicinity in the future. It could be rather embarrassing for you."
"This issue should be settled on the field of honor!" Felix exclaimed, his voice taut with fury.
"Please, Felix," Lauren said quickly as the Creole leapt to his feet. "There is no need to get upset."
Unconcerned by Duval's outburst, Jason leaned back in his seat, a ghost of a smile wreathing his mouth. "I would be happy to oblige, of course—"
"Non!" Desiree interjected. "One of you could be killed."
"—but a duel," Jason continued, "would not be particularly good for a gambler's reputation. You would find it hard to avoid the stigma of cheating afterward, even if you were to win. Which, I must warn you, is unlikely." When Felix remained standing there, clenching his fists and glaring, Jason raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Duval, you're not a stupid man, sit down. You're making a scene, in addition to disturbing these lovely ladies. Besides, I have a proposition for you that will allow you to cut your losses."
Felix continued to glare, but he resumed his seat. "What proposition?" he demanded. Lauren let out her breath, not realizing that she had been holding it.
"I believe you're holding a note of hand belonging to a friend of mine," Jason said, pushing a stack of bills across the table to Duval. "Here's five thousand for the note, plus another thousand for your trouble."
Felix's brows drew together in a frown. His suspicious gaze sliced to Lauren, before returning to Jason. "This MacGregor seems to have a great number of friends."
"I wouldn't know," Jason lied. "MacGregor happens to be in my employ, so I have a vested interest in keeping him out of jail."
The Creole hesitated a long moment, before he smiled philosophically and reached into his coat pocket for the note. "Forgive me, chérie," he said to Lauren, "for backing out of our wager. But you see how it is. You will be achieving your goal, at any rate." Picking up the money, Felix stuffed it into his pocket as he rose to leave. "A pity," he murmured, looking down at Lauren. "I don't think I have ever regretted winning such a large sum."
Lauren had no reply to that, so she merely smiled and offered her fingers for Felix to kiss. When he had gone, she stole a glance at Jason. He was watching her, with a look in his eye that warned of the reckoning still to come.
Holding her gaze, Jason slowly stood up. "Shall we go, mademoiselle?"
She knew better than to protest as he came around the table to assist her from her chair, but she had a momentary reprieve when Desiree stepped between them. The beautiful brunette touched Jason's sleeve, looking up at him with a pout. "Will you not stay, M'sieur Jason? I have been very lonely without you.
Jason flashed her a regretful smile. "Thank you, my sweet, but I mean to escort Mademoiselle Marguerite home."
As they walked away, Lauren could hear Desiree grumbling to herself about Amazons.
They were required to wait for Jason's carriage to be brought around, and Lauren found herself growing more nervous in the ensuing silence. She considered asking the majordomo, Kendricks, for help, but decided Jason's temper was uncertain enough that he might carry her bodily out of the casino if she refused to accompany him.
Jason's grip on her arm was painful as he escorted her to the phaeton which drew up before the casino. After assisting Lauren up, he tossed a coin to the black youth holding the two horses, then took his own seat and set the pair in motion.
Not until they were well out of town did he speak. "Putting yourself," Jason said, not taking his eyes off the road, "at the mercy of a man like Duval is one of the stupidest things I've ever seen you do."
His voice was quietly grim, like velvet over steel, and his simmering anger made Lauren uneasy, but she resisted the urge to squirm and turned her head away to gaze at the passing shadows of hackberry and sweetgum trees that lined the road. The sultry night was rather dark, with only a thin sliver of moon lighting the way. "How did you know where to find me?" she asked rather lamely.
"Matthew suspected you might do something quixotic and had the good sense to come to me. Which is precisely what you should have done. I'm far better equipped to handle Duval than you will ever be. I have greater skill at cards, and can afford to lose more, besides having the ability to defend myself. You had no business taking on Duval by yourself."
Lauren stiffened at his tone. She had little defense against Jason's logic, yet she objected to being chided as if she were accountable to him. "I don't need you to tell me how to behave," she replied sullenly.
"It's obvious someone needs to."
"You aren't my guardian, Jason."
"That's debatable, but I won't dispute it at the moment." He shot her an angry glance before turning his attention back to the horses. "I can admire your loyalty to Matthew, Lauren, but this damned determination of yours to remain independent has reached the point of obsession."
Sitting rigidly beside him, Lauren didn't deign to reply.
"What were you planning to give Duval if you lost? No, don't answer that. I can guess all too well."
"I didn't plan to lose," she snapped, her own anger rising. "I meant to expose his cheating before that."
"Sweet Christ," Jason breathed. "And just what do you think his response would have been if you had taken away his livelihood? There isn't a chance in hell I could have protected you if he decided to have his revenge later."
"I didn't ask you to protect me."
Jason took a deep breath and counted to ten before he replied. "As a gentleman, I'm obligated to assist a lady in distress, even one who's fool enough to bring trouble on herself."
"That wasn't chivalry! You just wanted to make sure I remained in your debt."
Jason turned a blazing blue glare on her. "I do not under any circumstances expect or want you to feel indebted to me. For any reason whatsoever."
"No? Then why did you suggest our bargain if not to make me feel obligated to you?"
"Damn it, Lauren, I want you to learn the shipping business precisely so you won't feel obligated to me. So we can meet, if not on equal, then at least equivalent ground. And so you'll be prepared for the responsibility when I turn the Carlin Line over to you in a few months."
His hypocrisy, after his declared intention of winning both her and the Carlin Line, galled her. "You want the Carlin ships, don't deny it!"
Jason clenched his teeth. "I won't."
"And you said it was 'all or nothing.' I can't believe you've given up so easily."
"I haven't." Abruptly pulling the horses to a halt, Jason secured the reins as he turned to face her. "I'd like to be indispensable to you, but not because you need me to organize your affairs. I wanted this past month to be an opportunity for us to get to know each other—"
Realizing at last that she had given him an opening for the very subject she wished to avoid, Lauren held up a hand. "No, please! I don't want to discuss it."
"Ignoring an issue won't make it go away, Lauren. You can't run from it forever."
As if to prove his point, he reached out to grip her arms. His grasp wasn't painful, but it engendered panic in Lauren. "You promised you wouldn't speak to me of that!" she exclaimed, trying to pull away.
"Just answer one question. What is it you have against marriage anyway? Are you afraid of something? Of me?"
"No . . . yes . . . I don't know!" she cried, pressing her hands to her ears.
Seeing her genuine distress, Jason forbore to capitalize on his advantage. Suddenly releasing her, he gathered the reins and urged the horses on. Neither of them spoke another word to break the tense silence.
When they arrived at Bellefleur, Lauren jumped
from the carriage before it had stopped, and ran up to her room where she remained, refusing to talk to anyone, even Lila. She spent a miserable few hours, pacing the floor and regretting the entire evening. Jason was right, she knew; she should have let him handle Duval. She had been infinitely relieved when he had won back Matthew's note, but she hadn't sounded a bit grateful. Instead she had reacted like the petulant child he had accused her of being, arguing and flinging accusations at him. And what was worse, she had given him the opportunity to renew his proposal at a time when she was least prepared to deal with it. The only good thing that had come of the evening was that they had prevented Matthew from going to jail.
Too involved in self-castigation and self-pity, Lauren was unable to sleep when the rest of the household retired for the night. Even Ulysses had deserted her, for the cat had been gone for hours and hadn't returned. It was well past midnight when she heard his plaintive yowl through the open French windows. Lauren called to him, but when Ulysses didn't come, she stepped outside, where only a faint breeze stirred the sultry night air, carrying the heavy scents of Cape jasmine and magnolia blossoms. Searching the darkness, she could see no sign of him, and so she silently made her way along the gallery.
She saw the great feline when she rounded the corner of the house. He was sitting in a soft pool of light that streamed from one of the rooms. Lauren softly called again, but to her dismay, the cat stretched, then bounded inside.
Lauren hesitated for a long moment. There was only one occupied bedroom at the back of the house, and that had been given to Jason. She shrank from the thought of having to face him. But he might be asleep, she reflected. Or he might not be there at all. He might have returned to the gaming house in search of more congenial company. Half hoping he would be gone, Lauren followed the elusive cat.
When she reached the door to Jason's room, she stopped abruptly. Jason was there, Lauren saw at once. He was stretched out on the large four-poster bed, wearing nothing but his breeches, the light from a single candle illuminating his long, muscular body. He had obviously not yet attempted to sleep, for the covers hadn't been turned down and the mosquito net was still open.
Desire and Deception Page 28
