by Maren Smith
"What divorce?” Basil asked, wide-eyed. He turned to Varden. “Is she serious?"
"No,” Varden snapped.
"That was another little game we had to play,” Mallory said, casting Varden the sweetest smile she could muster. “And one which we'll probably be playing again tonight, just as soon as we get home."
The other gamblers were eyeing Varden with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. Thomas was outright laughing. “Poor James! He's going to be sorry he left."
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Chapter Fifteen
Struggling for calm, Varden put his pipe back in his mouth and clamped his teeth on the stem. He wasn't going to lose his temper. At least not in public. He would wait until he got home, then he was going to blister her backside! And he'd enjoy it! He actually chuckled, a low, ominous sound as he envisioned the moment when he could pull her across his thighs and her bare bottom finally began to dance under the firm application of his palm.
The young barmaid approached the table. “Another round?"
"Brandy, please,” Edmond asked. “Lady Mallory, would you care for a sherry?"
"A cola with a lemon twist would be perfect,” she said. “But since I know they don't have that here, I'll just have whatever Varden's having."
"The usual,” Varden said around his pipe. He glared at his wife. “Make mine a double."
"Me, too.” She cast him another sunny smile in return, then turned her attention back to her cards. She chewed on her bottom lip, glancing up only once when the others began to push their money into the center of the table. She picked carefully through her stolen coins until she found ones that matched what the others had selected.
When the barmaid brought the new round of drinks, she again brushed the swell of her breasts against Varden's arm as she set his cup on the table. Varden pretended to ignore it.
Mallory didn't. “Honey, if you keep rubbing on my husband, I will snatch you bald."
The girl pouted, but retreated from the table without argument.
Varden flushed. He wasn't pleased to be the woman-child's object of infatuation, and he really didn't want the observation broadcasted across the tavern—especially not to her quick-to-brawl tavern-keeping father. “Can you possibly try to embarrass me any more tonight?"
"Oh yes, I can.” She picked up her drink and toasted him with a smiling salute. “Here's to swimming with bow-legged women."
Thomas choked on his drink. Basil spewed his. Edward and Morgan just laughed.
Varden glared. His eyes narrowed, almost daring her to drink as she brought the glass to her lips. His conscience got the better of him and he tried to stop her. “Wait, you don't want to drink that—"
She drained the glass in two swallows.
"—quickly,” Varden finished lamely.
Halfway to her stomach, the drink decided to became an unfriendly one. Her face turned red. Mallory sucked in a deep, ragged breath and then began coughing. She grabbed her stomach and covered her mouth, hunching her shoulders as she tried not to throw up.
Edmond leapt across the table to whack her helpfully between the shoulder blades.
Varden sat back in his chair and smiled. This was better than any revenge he could have thought up. Loving every coughing, wheezing minute of her torment, he took a handkerchief from the cuff of his sleeve and put it in her hand.
"She doesn't drink,” he explained to the others, who were trying very hard not to laugh at her expense. “She especially doesn't drink whiskey."
Mallory glared at him between hoarse gasps, then raised her hand to signal the barmaid. Still coughing and wheezing, she said, “I'll have ... another ... of those ... please."
Varden's smile vanished abruptly. “No, you will not!"
His black scowl had the right effect on the barmaid, but absolutely none at all on his wife.
"Bite me,” she rasped. She tossed the barmaid a coin. “Get my drink."
The coin must have been a good one, because it immediately disappeared down the front of the girl's bodice and she hurried back to the bar to carry out the order.
Clearing his throat and looking from Varden to Mallory, Thomas turned over the top card on the remaining stack. “Let's begin, shall we."
Holding her cards to her nose and coughing surreptitiously into them, Mallory spread them into a fan. With a look of intense concentration on her face, she crossed her legs and began to gently kick his shin under the table. Varden shifted, scowled at her, then shifted again, but her foot seemed to follow his leg no matter where he moved it.
"I guess I will be the first to start,” Edmond suggested. Plucking four more coins off his stack, he tossed them into the middle of the table. Everyone went in, rapidly adding money to the growing pile until Mallory was the only one left out. She was still studying her cards.
"Lady Mallory?” Morgan asked.
"I'm thinking,” she said.
"There's nothing to think about,” Varden snapped. “Either you ante or you quit the game and go home where—believe you me—I will deal with you later."
She looked down at her money. Again, she glanced at the pile, then carefully picked through her coins again, seeming to use the coins that he'd tossed in as a reference. He studied her suspiciously. “You don't know how to read the money, do you?"
She looked at him sideways, almost guiltily. Her cheeks flushed a little. “Don't worry about me, I'll do just fine. I know what a groat is, I just don't see one here."
"You're not dicing with soldiers,” Varden said and immediately held up his hand to stop Morgan, who had opened his mouth. “Don't ask."
Basil patted her hand. “Don't fret, my dear. My sister has the same problem. Never had to touch the stuff in all her young life. I swear, the way she shops you'd think stores just gave their wares away—she has no concept of expense. Thankfully, her husband has a sound financial mind and plenty of boot to keep her blissfully ignorant."
He showed her which coins to use and Mallory pushed her money towards the pot. “There, I'm in."
Thomas tapped a coin. “You're a crown short, luv."
"Oh.” She quickly added the right coin to the pile. “Sorry."
"Not at all."
Mallory smiled at Varden. “And now I know what a crown is, too."
Finally, Varden sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Are you paying attention at all? The player to the left of the dealer goes first. That's you."
She glanced at her cards in surprise. “Oh, okay. Um, what are we playing?"
Morgan and Edward began to laugh again. Basil just shook his head.
"You placed your wager without knowing the game?” Varden asked. He congratulated himself on not having lost his patience yet. His sense of humor, yes. But not his patience.
Mallory looked around the table, then back at her cards. “Yes, I did."
The other players erupted into laughter. All but Varden, who cracked only the barest of smiles. “Can you even read the cards?"
"I think so.” She chewed on her lower lip again.
Varden leaned back in his chair amid his friend's renewed laughter. “Do you remember that pompous Lord Perceval Winthrop the Third? He used to boast of beating his servants and family because he said it kept them in line. I'm beginning to see his point."
Mallory shrugged. “If you think you can handle another divorce, go ahead."
"We both know how the first one ended."
"That's the second time she's said that,” Thomas said, shocked. “Are you getting divorced?"
"No,” Varden snapped.
"Depends,” Mallory said at the same time.
"Didn't Winthrop's wife throw him down a flight of stairs?” Edward asked.
"That was the rumor,” Morgan said. “Though if she did, there's no proof, and two servants even claimed to have seen Winthrop slip and fall on his own. Said he was drunk at the time."
"A just end to him, I think,” Mallory said.
"Maw, Lady Mallory,” Basil said,
still laughing. He sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes with the lacy hem of his sleeve. “We are playing Maw. And, I must say, this is better than the theatre."
"Maw?” She studied her cards again. “What is that?"
"If you don't know how to play, then lay your cards on the table and go home,” Varden said.
His wife turned in her chair to glare at him, her jaw stubbornly set. She selected a card to lay on the table.
"Well done, Lady Mallory,” Thomas congratulated her. “You made the first trick."
"Did I really?” Grinning with excitement, Mallory studied the pair of cards. “What's a trick?"
Basil began laughing again and nearly fell out of his chair.
Mallory accidentally won the first hand.
"Very well played,” Thomas said again.
Still holding two cards and not at all sure what she had done, Mallory glanced at the others who had already passed their cards back to Thomas. “Is it over?"
Smiling ruefully, Morgan shook his finger under her nose. “I apologize, Lady Mallory, for thinking that I could take advantage of your naiveté. I can see I am going to have to watch my hand a little more closely."
"I won?” Mallory asked, even more incredulous.
Unamused, Varden drummed his fingers on the table. “Collect your winnings so we can play again."
His wife passed the cards back to Thomas and racked her money to her. “This game is kind of fun."
"Deal again,” Varden growled, and Thomas passed the deck to the right to Morgan, who shuffled and then dealt out the next five cards.
"Maw is all the rage in London,” Basil said. “How long have you been playing?"
"I've never even heard of the game before.” Mallory studied her cards. “I'm just making this up as I go."
"You made three perfect tricks without even knowing what you were doing?” Varden slapped his cards face down on the table and glared at her. “I had to play my trump on the very first card!"
"Is that bad?” she asked.
As the others laughed again, Varden scowled blackly, threw in the first wager, and chewed the end of his pipe. “Let's play."
"It's a points game,” Edward told her. “The object is to play three tricks, or at least to prevent anyone else from doing so. The first to make three tricks, wins the wager. If there is no winner, then we increase the wager until somebody does win. Do you understand?"
"Yes,” she said, still wondering what a trick was.
"All right then, here's the trump.” Morgan turned the top card over and they began to throw in their bets.
She won again.
"This is embarrassing,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I'm losing to someone who doesn't know the silly rules of the game!"
"Are you calling it a night?” Basil asked, shuffling the cards.
"Be serious! I have to recoup my losses.” He tapped the table with one finger. “Pass the cards, Basil, my man. And make them good ones."
It was a matter of male pride that Varden remained in the game, though the amount of coins in front of him was dwindling as quickly as the sum of Mallory's was growing. He was half-tempted to quit when Mallory, unknowingly, nipped that idea in the bud.
"If you need to, Varden, you can use the castle as collateral. I'll have to make a few changes on how it's run, of course. But at least it will stay in the family."
Varden won the next hand. “I don't think we need worry about mortgaging Cadhla quite yet."
Basil passed around his pipe tobacco during the next game and, to everyone's shock, Mallory took Morgan's pipe from his hand. “I've never smoked a pipe before. How do you light it?"
Varden lay his cards face down on the table. “If you put that in your mouth, I will take you across my knee right here and now."
"No you won't,” Mallory said, unconcerned. She turned the pipe over in her hands and sniffed at the tobacco. She wrinkled her nose, then turned her head and sneezed.
"Try me,” Varden dared.
"I'll divorce you so fast it will make your head spin.” She put the pipe stem in her mouth, despite the awful smell. She turned to her right. “Would you light this for me please, Thomas?"
"Thomas,” Varden cut in smoothly. “Do you like having your head attached to your shoulders, and would you like for it to remain there?"
"Ah,” Thomas said, glancing from one to another.
"That's okay, never mind,” Mallory said. Glaring at Varden, she stood up, went to a nearby table, and politely repeated her request to the elderly merchant who had just seated himself there.
Overcoming his surprise, the man smiled and lit the pipe. She thanked him pleasantly and sauntered back to Varden, triumph in her eyes.
Arms folded across his chest, Varden eased back in his chair to watch as his wife inhaled the first pungent draw. Her eyes watered. She turned three shades of green before the coughing kicked in.
Without a word, she handed the pipe back to Morgan.
Varden smiled at his companions. “Well, gentlemen, I think this just about ends our little night of debauchery. I'm sure she will remember this experience for quite a while. I know I will."
"Ugh,” Mallory added, clutching her stomach.
Gathering up their separate winnings and his handkerchief, he signaled to the soldiers that he was ready to go and took Mallory's arm. Through gritted teeth he said, “Come, my dear. We are going home."
"Ugh,” she repeated. “Those things are nothing like cigarettes! How can you stand to smoke them?"
Varden hauled her out the tavern door while the other gamblers threw back their heads and laughed.
"He is going to paddle her backside when they get home,” Edmond chortled.
Morgan laughed. “Two pounds says he doesn't wait that long!"
"Done,” said both Edward and Thomas at the same time.
Outside, Varden picked Mallory up by the waist and all but tossed her into the Michadle carriage. After tying his horse to the back, he climbed in only to discover that she wasn't in the carriage anymore. Instead, she had jumped back out and climbed halfway up the ladder to the driving box. She clutched a wooden rung in one hand and the driver's hand in her other, vainly kicking to free her tangled skirts which she hadn't yet realized she was standing on.
"I won't be any trouble at all,” she was saying to the dubious driver. “I'll sit quiet as a mouse; you'll hardly know I'm here. And if we get set upon by outlaws, I'll ride shotgun for you. I'm a pretty good shot if the gun is loaded. Just ask my brother-in-law."
Much to the relief of the driver, Varden plucked her off the ladder and tossed her back into the carriage, swearing under his breath. He immediately climbed in after her and slammed the door, shutting her inside with him before she could scramble away again.
As the carriage rocked into motion, he glared at her. “What is a cigarette and when did you smoke one?"
Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she thrust her chin out stubbornly. “I'm not talking to you any more. All you do is yell."
Varden laughed grimly. “You object to my heavy handed tactics and yet you are doing everything in your power to provoke one."
"That's your answer to everything I do! You're a savage, boorish brute!"
"A brute who has aged twenty years in the last six months!” he shouted. “One whose wife drinks and smokes, gambles in bars, and whores with his brother in his own bed!” He broke off sharply when her palm cracked hard against his cheek.
They both stopped stunned.
Mallory recovered first. “You wronged me, not the other way around! You're pig-headed and stubborn, and so wrapped in your own hurt you can't even see what really happened. Your brother tried to attack me, and I sprained my wrist punching him. When you came out onto the balcony, I thought you were coming to save me.” Her voice cracked. “I actually thought you were my knight in shining armor, right up until you looked at me. Like I was scum at the bottom of the moat.” She swallowed, her chin quivering although she was fighting
hard not to cry. “I needed you and you walked away from me. So don't you tell me what I did was wrong, because what you did was much worse!"
Though he tried, there wasn't much Varden remembered after Grete had burst into his study in near hysterics. He had seen the blood on his bed and on Godfrey. After that, the only thing that mattered was the connection between the two. Varden hadn't even paused to wonder how Godfrey had come to be bleeding. He hadn't cared. Godfrey had been in his bed again; nothing else had been important.
"You're right,” he finally admitted. He reached across to take both her hands in his. He looked at her wrists; one was swollen and slightly darker than the other. Tomorrow it would likely be bruised. He let go of her again. “I judged the situation by your past. I shouldn't have done that, Claire. I'm sorry."
Their minute truce didn't last the length of his apology.
"Claire!” She shrieked, furious and incredulous all at once. She struck him in the chest, shoving him away. “You bastard!"
She threw herself on the opposite seat, moving as far from him as was possible inside the carriage. Not wanting him to see how easily he could make her cry, she steadfastly watched the country go by outside the draped carriage windows.
"I never knew how phenomenally bad I was with women until I met you,” Varden snarled, throwing himself back in his seat. “What an education you have been."
Without warning, Mallory jerked open the carriage door and jumped out. Though the carriage wasn't going any faster than the horses could walk, she landed first on her feet and then dropped to her knees to the accompanying snap of a crinoline hoop. With mud on her skirts, hands and even a few splattered drops on her face, she struggled back to her feet and started walking.
"Oh, for the love of—” Varden rapped on the top of the carriage again, but the driver had seen Mallory and was already reining the horses to a halt.
Varden didn't even try to convince her to get back into the carriage. She walked with quick and angry steps, despite the drizzling rain, dragging the hem of her gown through the muddy road and ruining the only pair of Claire's slippers that she had bothered to wear since Devin's birth. As he watched, she suddenly yanked her skirts up to her knees, shocking the driver, the escorts, and all of Mother Nature as she took the muddy slippers off, turned sharply, and flung them into the woods.
