In Bed With the Devil

by Lorraine Heath

  No, he chastised himself. He was simply replacing the pair that had been destroyed when they’d been attacked, replaced the one that now rested in a drawer in the bureau in his bedchamber. The one that he’d held and studied that morning after returning to his residence, thinking about how close she’d come to having her life ended with the slash of a blade.

  Pain shot through his head. He had to stop thinking about that encounter in the alley. Why was it that it troubled him so? She was nothing to him except a means to an end.

  “She didn’t see me,” Jim insisted, lounging in his chair by the fire as though nothing were amiss.

  “All the running around she did earlier in the week? She did it to befuddle you, to make certain you were following her.”

  “If she spied someone following her, it was not me. She saw someone else.”

  Jim sounded so certain of himself. Not that Luke could blame him. He’d always been the best, the very best. So good in fact, that he’d managed to carry out his duties at Scotland Yard during the evening while pursuing Catherine during the day. He’d merely claimed to be following up with some witnesses to a burglary.

  “Why would someone be following her?” Luke asked.

  “Maybe it’s the bloke she wants killed.”

  The thought of her being in danger caused Luke to break out in a sweat. “Did you see someone following her?”

  “I wasn’t looking for anyone else. I was concentrating on her and making certain she didn’t spy me.”

  “We need to determine if it was you she saw.”

  “Now, that’s a jolly good idea. Let’s ask her shall we? And then she’ll know you’re having her followed. Do you think she’s going to take kindly to that news?”

  “I’m not as daft as all that. We need to come up with an innocent opportunity for your path to cross with hers.” He walked over to the window, moved the drapery aside slightly, and peered out.

  “Once she’s seen me, she’s more likely to notice me and become suspicious.”

  “If she does, we’ll simply say I was worried about her safety, that you’re following her is a new development.”

  “So how do you propose we innocently cross paths?”

  How indeed without arousing suspicions?

  “We just need a small ruse,” Luke said quietly. “Something simple, easy to bring about.” He considered his options, the players at his disposal. Finally he faced Jim. “Get word to Bill. We’re going to play some cards tonight in Dodger’s back room.”

  “I’m all for a bit of gaming, but how does that achieve your end?”

  “We’ll have Frannie bring Catherine into the room—quite innocently. Catherine’s reaction to seeing you should tell us everything.”

  “What excuse will Frannie use to bring her into a room where gents are playing cards? It will be apparent that it’s staged.”

  Luke waved off his concerns. “Perhaps Frannie will want to show me something that she’s learned. We’ll leave the reason to her. I have no doubt she can lure Catherine into the room without raising suspicions.”

  Feagan’s children were all skilled at delivering lies so easily that they resembled truths. That talent had allowed him to convince the old gent that Luke was his grandson. What he required of Frannie tonight wasn’t nearly as complicated, but in some ways, Luke feared more was to be gained or lost.

  “Do you know that Luke has never kissed me?”

  Catherine looked up from her feeble attempt to write. While Frannie was writing out a menu that Claybourne could deliver to his cook for the dinner party that the three of them would have at his residence tomorrow night, Catherine was using her time to test her ability to write, scribbling nothing of importance. With her wounded hand, she was having difficult properly holding a writing instrument. How was she going to help Winnie address the invitations to their ball? Although that concern slipped to the back of her mind with Frannie’s announcement.

  She felt her cheeks warm and wondered if Frannie had some sort of inkling that Claybourne had kissed her. Did her lips now carry a brand as visible as that upon his thumb?

  Catherine swallowed. “Because he respects you.”

  “I suppose. It has just always seemed to me that if a man is attracted to you that he shouldn’t be able to resist, that you should have to scold him and make him behave.”

  “But a gentleman doesn’t kiss a lady until they’re betrothed, so perhaps since you haven’t accepted his offer of marriage—you haven’t, have you?”

  “No. He hasn’t asked again, thank goodness. I’m not ready to say yes.” She set her elbow on the desk, her chin in her hand. “I felt so badly that night. He’d taken me out in his coach. It was filled with flowers. Terribly romantic.”

  “Indeed.” Something else about Claybourne that she’d never expected. “How fortunate you are to hold his affections.”

  “Fortunate?” Frannie straightened. “I work all evening and then I have to take lessons, while Luke is off playing. His affections have added to my burdens.”

  Her attitude surprised Catherine. She’d never consider Claybourne’s affections as a burden. For an unkind moment she wasn’t certain Frannie deserved him. But it was not her place to judge, to decide whom he should love and who should love him.

  “I thought he was here,” Catherine said. She’d never questioned what he was doing while she was showing Frannie various things.

  “He is, but he’s in a room farther in the back, playing cards with Jack and the others.”

  “The others?”

  “Friends. Old acquaintances. Lads we grew up with. If I didn’t have to take my lessons, then I could play with them. I’d much rather be playing than taking lessons.”

  “Is it so difficult to design a menu?”

  “So many different dishes need to be served. How can one person eat them all?”

  “They’re very small portions. I know you’re nervous, but it’s really not as bad as all that.”

  “Still, it doesn’t seem fair that we have to work while they play. And it’s also not fair that you have to teach me etiquette, while I’m teaching you nothing.”

  She was teaching more than she knew, teaching Catherine about Claybourne. Did he kiss Catherine because he had absolutely no respect for her? Or could it be as Frannie surmised—he was unable to resist because he was attracted to her? No, it had to be the former. He never left any doubt that Frannie held his heart. His reasons for kissing Catherine were either to unsettle or tease her or distract her. They were not the result of passion, although they’d certainly felt as though they were.

  “You don’t have to teach me anything,” Catherine said. “My arrangement is with Claybourne, and I’m quite satisfied with it.”

  “But wouldn’t it be fun to play a little trick on Luke?”

  Catherine hardly thought him the type to enjoy having pranks played on him. Yet she was intrigued by the notion. “What sort of trick?”

  Frannie opened a drawer, took out a deck of cards, and placed it on the desk between them. And then she smiled, rather cockily—the first truly confident smile Catherine had received from her—as though she were finally in her element. Catherine realized it transformed her, and for the first time, she thought she could see what it was about the woman that appealed to Claybourne.

  “How about I teach you how to beat a man at his own game?”

  Luke glanced at his watch, the watch he’d inherited from the old gent, then stuffed it back into his waistcoat pocket. It was coming close to the time for him to take Catherine home. Why hadn’t Frannie brought her in here?

  “Are you going to pass?” Jack asked.

  Luke looked at his cards, looked at the door. “They should have been in here by now.”

  “Based on Lady Catherine’s stubbornness, I expect Frannie is finding it more difficult than she imagined it would be to lure her in here.”

  Luke glared at Jack. “What do you know of Catherine’s stubbornness?”

  “I�
�ve met the woman. ’Tis enough.”

  “I thought she was most pleasant,” Bill said.

  On the journey here, Jim had explained to Bill exactly who Catherine was and Luke’s arrangement with her.

  “Boring is what she is,” Jim said.

  “She’s not boring. How many times must I tell you that? I swear to God, I’m not convinced you’re following the correct woman,” Luke said.

  “She shops.” Jim cast a quick look at his friends. “She shops. She visits. Where is the excitement in that, I ask you? The only thing she does of any note is meeting you at night.”

  “And getting her hand sliced to ribbons,” Bill said quietly.

  A result about which Luke continued to feel guilty. Once they’d settled into the coach earlier, she’d thanked him for the gloves. Told him they weren’t necessary. Had made him feel rather silly for taking such pleasure in purchasing them for her.

  “It’ll heal,” Luke said brusquely.

  “It’s going to leave a nasty scar,” Bill said.

  Add that burden to his guilt.

  “She shouldn’t have gotten out of the coach to begin with,” Luke said.

  “She doesn’t strike me as a woman who obeys,” Jack murmured.

  “You think you know her so well. You know nothing at all about her.”

  Jack leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and his hard-edged glare on Luke. “Enlighten me.”

  What could he say? That she was bold, courageous, kind, caring…that her scent still lingered in his bedchamber. He wasn’t certain he’d be able to sleep with it there. He would wake up searching for her. How was it that she was managing to work her way into every facet of his life?

  Before he could form a comprehensible answer, the door opened. Thank goodness! Luke had situated himself so he was facing the door, giving him a clear view of her face, her features, and her expression as she took stock of her surroundings. All four gentlemen came to their feet.

  “Gentlemen,” Frannie said, sweetly. “Lady Catherine gave me permission to take a small respite from my studies, and I thought we would stop by and say hello.”

  That was it? That was the best she’d been able to come up with? The elaborate ruse?

  Then Catherine smiled beautifully. “Dr. Graves, I didn’t know you were here. It’s so lovely to see you again.”

  She extended her hand, and he took it gently, placing a kiss on her fingertips. Luke didn’t understand his reaction. His body stiffened and he wanted to smash his fist into Bill’s face, wanted to pull Catherine away from the man who was now turning her bandaged hand over and looking at her covered palm.

  “How is it doing?” he asked.

  “It’s a bit sore, and I’m having a devil of a time writing, but other than that, I can’t complain.”

  She turned her attention to Jack, who was standing to Luke’s left. “Mr. Dodger.”

  “Lady Catherine.”

  “I don’t mean to be pious, but I thought gambling was outlawed.”

  He gave her his devil-may-care grin. “Not in private clubs. And this, my lady, is a very private club. Exclusive, in fact.”

  “Are you winning?”

  “I always win.”

  “I would have thought that honor would fall to Claybourne.”

  Luke’s heart gave a little stutter. “Why would you think that?”

  “Perhaps I simply have faith in your ability to succeed.”

  Was she mocking him? Would it be worse if she weren’t? If she truly did have faith in him? Had anyone of the aristocracy—other than the old gent—ever even considered that Luke was worthy of having faith placed in him?

  He cleared his throat, studied her more closely. “I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Swindler.”

  Jim was standing to Luke’s right, out of his field of vision, but he knew the man well enough to know that he’d not give anything away with his expressions.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She did nothing but present a welcoming smile.

  “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

  Her brow furrowed. There! Luke thought. She’s recognized him!

  “I daresay, it’s a rather unfortunate name you have, though, isn’t it?”

  Or perhaps not.

  Jim chuckled. “When I was young and in search of a name, it seemed appropriate. As I’ve grown older, I recognize the foolishness of my youth.”

  “You’re another one of Feagan’s children.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “I am.”

  “I shan’t hold your choice of name against you. I expect if we were all honest, we’d discover we’ve all been foolish at one time or another.”

  “You’re very kind.”

  What the bloody hell was she doing? She was charming them. Charming them all. As though they were equals, as though they had something in common. All three of his mates were looking at her like besotted fools.

  Her gaze darted around the table. “What have you here? What game are you playing?”

  “Brag,” Luke said.

  “Oh?” She looked at him with interest, a smile upon those red lips—lips he knew the feel and taste of—and arched a brow. “How is it played? The one with the best card brags on his exploits?”

  He scowled, growled, and was fairly losing patience. “One wagers on the outcome. The gent with the best set of cards wins—or bluffs the others into believing he has the best set of cards.”

  “And what if a lady has the best set of cards?”

  The little chit! With the set of her chin, the challenge in her eyes, she was daring him to let her play.

  “Then the lady would win. But I’ve never known that to happen. Frannie has tried on many occasions, but she’s never met with success.”

  “So it’s a gentleman’s game?”

  “Quite.”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “May I try?”

  “Have you any idea how to play?”

  “I have an inkling. After all, I have a brother, and he’s a rather notorious rake.”

  “So you’ve played before.”

  “I’ve watched.” She gave him an impish smile. “I was teasing earlier. I know what brag is. So may I play?”

  “By all means. Jack, give her your chair.”

  “I’m not sitting this one out,” Jack said, grinning. He did offer his chair to Catherine, before securing another for himself and bringing it to the table.

  “Did you want to play, Frannie?” Luke asked.

  “No, as you so kindly pointed out, I have no skill when it comes to cards.”

  Damnation! Had he hurt her feelings?

  “I meant no offense,” he said.

  “None was taken. I will, however, front Lady Catherine two hundred pounds.”

  Luke narrowed his eyes. Something was afoot. “What were you studying tonight?”

  “How to determine the menu for dinner. Rather boring actually.” Frannie pulled up a chair and sat between Jack and Catherine, slightly behind Catherine. “But I shall gladly watch. Perhaps I’ll learn something.”

  “You’re going to learn how to lose two hundred pounds, right fast,” Jim said.

  Frannie did little more than offer him a mischievous smile.

  Luke gathered up the cards and began to shuffle. “I’ll deal. Minimum bet is five pounds, maximum is twenty-five.”

  He watched as Jack slid the chips over to Catherine. “Each of these is worth five. And the first thing we do is ante up.” He tossed a chip into the center of the table. Catherine followed suit. Everyone else tossed in his ante.

  “The game is five-card brag,” Luke said. “The rules are these: Never show your cards to anyone—not even to Frannie. Never say anything about your hand. And never fold out of turn.”

  “Oh, I shan’t fold at all. I’ll have no chance of winning if I fold.” She leaned toward the table, peered around, and whispered. “My brother always gave up so easily. The other gents took his money. I don’t think he understood the strategy.”


  Luke met Jack’s gaze and knew he was thinking the same thing: it was going to be like pilfering the pockets of an old man. Far, far too easy.

  She picked up her cards and studied them. Her brow furrowed. She scowled. Then she set them in her lap.

  “You must keep them on the table,” Luke told her.

  Laughing, she set the cards on the table. “Oh, you think I’m cheating?”

  “No, but it’s the rules.”

  She nodded. “Very well. I bet first?”

  Luke nodded.

  Gnawing her lip, she looked at each set of cards—even though she could only see the back of them. “I’ll wager five.” She tossed her chip into the center.

  “Ten,” Jack said.

  “Oh, Jack,” Frannie scolded, slapping his arm. “Don’t take all her money the first round.”

  “Come on, Frannie, it’s always more fun when there’s more at risk.”

  “I’m probably going to regret this,” Bill said, “but I fold.”

  “I’ll match the bet,” Jim said, and tossed in his ten chips.

  “Shouldn’t it be fifteen?” Catherine asked.

  “No, you only match the last bet made.” Luke matched the ten. “Now you match the ten.”

  “Or I can wager more?”

  “You can, but—”

  “I’ll wager twenty.”

  “Twenty-five,” Jack said.

  Catherine looked at him and smiled. “You must have a jolly good hand.”

  Jack grinned. Luke knew that grin. The blighter had nothing.

  Jim shook his head, tossed down his cards. “Fold.”

  Luke bet his twenty-five. Catherine bet hers.

  Jack studied Luke. Studied Catherine. “I fold.”

  Catherine looked so incredibly pleased.

  Luke matched the bet. Catherine placed fifty pounds worth of chips in the center. “See you.”

  Luke sighed deeply. “Catherine, the maximum is twenty-five, and the only way to win at this game is not to let people know what you’re thinking.”

  “And you know what I’m thinking?”

  “I do.”

  “Then I shall lose.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I should not have placed the wager.”

  “You shouldn’t have placed any of them. At least take the last one back and fold.”