She didn’t even have to think before answering. “More than anything.” Charley leaned in closer and lowered her voice as well. “I’m not giving up so easily.” She studied the oldest of Jules’ two sisters for a moment and wondered why Bethany had given up on the man she cared for. At the girl’s watery smile, Charley determined that after all of this was over, she would find out who this man was and what could be done to help true love along. Perhaps the two of them simply needed an evening alone with a little whiskey…
She grimaced at herself, dumbfounded that she was even contemplating matchmaking. Apparently, she’d become a champion now for true love.
But first, she needed to focus all her efforts on freeing Jules.
Because Jules must be free if he would ever truly be happy and his happiness was more important than her own.
“Will you help me?”
Bethany dipped her chin and then her eyes widened when Charley slid the third missive she’d written out into her hands. For an instant, the other girl almost looked as though she was going to say something, but then understanding dawned and she turned so that her back faced the most vigilant chaperone and opened it quietly in her lap.
“My father will be here shortly, and I will be happy to put all of this behind me,” Charley conversed almost brightly as though she had the younger girl’s full attention. “Although I’m not looking look forward to a month or more on a ship, again, with nowhere to go and no one new to meet.”
“Did you become ill?” Bethany somehow managed to carry on the conversation as she read the contents of Charley’s request.
“The first few days. And when the winds kicked up. But I got used to it. It would be torture if it had persisted.”
Bethany folded the note and tucked it into her sleeve. She patted Charley’s hand again and nodded. “Again, I am so disappointed that you won’t be at the ball tonight. I would wish to have your opinion as to which of the titled young gentlemen might make the best husband for my sister.”
“Perhaps she will have need of a chaperone,” Charley suggested. “She worries your brother.” It was easiest to stick with the truth as much as possible.
Bethany’s expression was all agreement. “I’ll speak with my mother about it.” And then she moved toward the door. In what seemed to be a last-second impulse, she rushed forward and hugged Charley tightly. “I hope this works. I’ll be rooting for you,” she whispered before stepping back.
“You can tell me all about it tomorrow.” Charley bid her farewell and closed the door feeling almost like the lightning from the day before was charging through her.
It was a combination of fear and excitement. The fear was good. Her father had impressed upon her that the worst thing a person could do when approaching a difficult task was to be overconfident. Because overconfidence led one to underprepare.
Determination bolted through her. Tonight, she’d need all the preparation she could muster. With a small smile, Charley sat at the table and picked up the cards again.
Chapter 28
THE CARD ROOM
Jules slid the cue through his fingers, unable to take any satisfaction as his ball rolled precisely as he’d intended, hitting the green one and sending it into the right-side pocket.
Doing nothing, he decided, was perhaps one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
But when Charley had asked him to trust her, she’d had a certain look in her eyes. In that moment, he’d been reminded of her father when he’d offered to ante up a significant measure of his wealth in return for Jules’ promise. The odds of seeing two royal flushes in one night of poker, let alone a single hand, were impossible. The man had known exactly what he was doing. He’d made Jules believe that he couldn’t lose while holding the only hand that could beat him.
“What the hell is she up to?” he groused to Chase and Mantis as he stepped around the table. “There has to be something I can do.”
“She told you what to do.” Stone leaned against the back of the settee across the room. “Don’t you trust her?”
“Of course, I trust her.” By now, all of them knew everything. In fact, judging by their smirks and knowing looks between one another, they no doubt were in on Charley’s scheme.
“It would be a hell of a lot easier to trust her if I knew what she had planned.” He glared toward each of them.
They were all dressed formally tonight for what was to be the last night of the house party, as well as the pinnacle. His mother went all out whenever hosting a ball and this evening was no exception. All manner of gentlefolk from the surrounding shire would have been invited in addition to the house party guests, promising nothing less than a crush. Servants had been rushing from the ballroom to the kitchens since sunup in preparation for the anticipated event.
Jules rolled his shoulders in a vain attempt to relieve the tension building in them. He’d done as she’d asked. He’d told Brightly he’d abide by the contract. The sick feeling he had was not from the night before. It was caused by the knowledge that he might very well have sealed his own destiny.
Lord Brightly had wanted to announce the engagement before the supper dance but Jules said he could hardly do that without speaking to Felicity herself. In a compromise, Jules was to lead Felicity out in the first dance. Her father also reserved Jules the supper dance for his daughter. Reserving two sets with her was essentially tantamount to an official engagement.
What if Charley’s plan failed? Jules tugged at his cravat and popped each joint on his left hand one by one. What if she’d changed her mind and was using this as a way to escape her own promise?
A bead of sweat trickled uncomfortably down his back.
She’d told him she wanted to marry him.
She’d asked him to trust her.
This time, when he thrust the cue, the ball jumped up and went flying across the room and had Greys not just come strolling through the door and caught it, the ball would have struck the door soundly.
“Your mother asked that I remind you that your presence is required for the reception line.” Greys strolled across the room and placed the ball on the felt. “And not to forget that you are leading Lady Felicity in the first dance.” Something in the manner Greys moved alerted Jules that dancing with Felicity was his part to play in Charley’s plan.
She’d told him that he could not win, that only she could. What the hell had she meant by that?
Jules straightened his jacket and nodded. If he was going to ‘lose’ tonight—for Charley—then he was going to do so convincingly.
“And once you’ve finished dancing with your fiancée.” Mantis smirked. “Join us in the card room, won’t you?”
Hairs on the back of Jules’ neck stood up upon hearing these words.
He raised his brows but didn’t bother asking any questions. Taking one last moment, he removed the flask Charley had given him from his pocket and threw back the last drops of her whiskey. The flavor reminded him of her.
It was sweet, strong, and unapologetically American.
“My mother asked that Mrs. Crabtree chaperone Tabetha this evening.” Bethany arrived at Charley’s chamber wearing a buttery muslin gown with an ivory lace overlay, her dark hair pinned up in braided pinwheels. “My sister fails to comprehend that not all men can be trusted.”
“How pretty you look!” Charley couldn’t help but exclaim despite her nervousness. The ball would be close to getting underway and she had little time to change into her own gown. With Mrs. Crabtree sitting in her chamber so vigilantly, Charley could hardly dress to attend a ball to which she had been banned.
Groaning a little as she rose from her chair, Mrs. Crabtree frowned. “She didn’t mention anything to me.”
Bethany raised one lofty brow. “My mother hardly has time to deliver all of her instructions personally.” She very much resembled the countess in that moment, and Charley had to cover her mouth to keep from smiling at the thought. “She asked that you wait inside the ballroom until Tabby i
s announced. Honestly, my sister is far too flirtatious for her own good.”
“But what of Miss Jackson?” Mrs. Crabtree lowered her voice as though by doing so, Charley wouldn’t hear her skepticism.
“Miss Jackson, you have no intention of making any trouble, do you?” A dimple appeared in Bethany’s left cheek—the only indication that she was biting back her smile.
Charley widened her eyes innocently and adamantly shook her head. “I was actually thinking of retiring early. If my father arrives tomorrow, he’ll want to leave straightaway for London.”
The woman gave her a hard look before smoothing her skirts. “Very well. But I will need to change first. Advise her ladyship that I’ll be there shortly and will attach myself to Lady Tabetha the instant she steps into the ballroom.”
Charley almost felt sorry for the younger girl. If anyone could rein the lovely blonde in, it would be Mrs. Crabtree.
As the older woman bent down to retrieve her belongings, Bethany grinned over at Charley. It was encouraging to know that she had additional support, but it was also unnerving. Others beside herself must accomplish essential tasks in order for Charley to ultimately succeed.
Twenty minutes later, Charley studied her appearance in the mirror. The face looking back at her was even more pale than usual. A thousand doubts had the contents of her stomach flipflopping back and forth.
“You will be the most beautiful lady there,” Daisy announced confidently as she stuck one more pin into the coiffure she’d created. She’d magically confined most of Charley’s curls into an intricate knot.
“No need to be beautiful. I simply need to look good enough that I’m not turned away at the door.” But she couldn’t help but concede that the gown, another provided by her grandmother, was lovely indeed. Almost the exact shade of Jules’ eyes, the lovely sapphire silk had long puffy sleeves and a heart-shaped bodice. It fit her perfectly and unlike many of her older gowns, the material gathered low at her waist. Of course, it was the height of fashion and when she twirled around, the material swished outward, making her feel like a princess. Charley wore a pendant given to her by her father long ago and satin slippers with a thin leather sole. How would she have felt dressed like this under different circumstances?
Pretty? Alluring?
She allowed herself all of ten seconds to fantasize that Jules would announce their engagement tonight—that he would lead her onto the dance floor. She included in that fantasy that she’d taken several more dance lessons and that she could float across the parquet floor effortlessly.
When a sharp knock sounded at the door, she blinked the imagined scene away and focused her attention on the task that lie ahead of her.
Lord Greystone stood on the other side, looking stern and also very unapproachable.
Perfect. The more formidable her escort, the better.
Feeling something like what a soldier must feel as he heads into battle, Charley smiled tightly and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Normally, she might have made some attempt at conversation, but her mind had gone blank. If she failed, she’d lose Jules forever.
“Relax, Miss Jackson. We will not be turned away.” The aristocratic gentleman who’d agreed to gain her entrance did not point out that as long as she was with him, they would not be questioned. He outranked every other person here tonight, as far as she knew.
She took in a deep breath and released the vicelike grip she had on his arm.
“The card game will commence shortly after the first dance. If you find yourself separated from me, look for Stone to take you over.”
All Charley could think to do was nod, which she did.
The next minute, Lord Greystone had led the two of them through a back door of sorts and then out from behind a curtain. A small orchestra played at the far end of the room and in the center of the shining dance floor, an elegant couple danced alone, causing her knees to nearly give out beneath her.
Because the couple appeared to be gazing into one another’s eyes, and they danced as though they had been made for one another.
Jules and Felicity.
The Marquess’ hand covered her hand at the moment she contemplated fleeing. “He’s doing his part, just as you asked.”
Of course.
Of course.
She exhaled and allowed Lord Greystone to lead her around the edge of the room. Thankfully, all eyes watched the couple on the floor, which not only allowed her to slip through the guests unobserved but gave her the opportunity to drink in the sight of him.
He was dressed more formally than she’d ever seen him, his shirt and cravat a pristine white, his waistcoat, coat, and long-tailed jacket, black as midnight.
And almost as though he felt her presence, he glanced up and his eyes flared and softened. She swallowed around the large lump that formed in her throat and ignored her feelings of jealousy. Especially when he leaned down and whispered something in Felicity’s ear before spinning her around.
With Jules’ back to her now, the other girl peered around his shoulder and with sly grin, winked at Charley.
Was there no one in all of Westerley Crossing who was not aware of Charley’s plan? She exhaled loudly as Stone Spencer approached and took hold of her other elbow.
Lord Greystone casually disappeared into the crowd.
“What’s happening?”
“Brightly needs a little more encouragement to enter the game. He won’t turn Greys down.”
A small cry escaped before she could smother it.
“Shh…” Mr. Spencer squeezed her arm. “You aren’t going soft on us now, are you?”
His voice was matter-of-fact, almost as if this was the sort of thing they did every day.
“No.”
“Good girl.” And then he indicated some gentlemen across the floor—Lord Greystone and Lord Brightly, making their way toward the back of the room. “Shall we, Miss Jackson?”
The music was drawing to a close. Jules bowed to Felicity, and a murmur rose around her as familiar faces finally realized that she was in attendance.
Charley forced a tight smile. “Indeed, Mr. Spencer. Lead the way.”
Unwilling to be stopped and most definitely not wanting to explain herself to anyone, Charley kept her gaze on the back of Mr. Spencer’s wide shoulders as he led her away from the mostly female guests, through a long corridor and into a dark plush room with red velvet on the walls. The conversation humming around the decidedly masculine abode sounded deep and rumbling.
The Card Room.
A few gentlemen who she knew were Lady Westerley’s guests exclaimed when they caught sight of her, but Mr. Spencer kept right on pulling her along. He didn’t stop until they’d reached the far corner where Lord Greystone was seated along with Lord Brightley, another man who Charley couldn’t remember, along with Lords Chaswick and Manningham-Tissinton.
Peter Spencer leaned in the corner.
“What’s the meaning of bringing that gel in here, Spencer?” the old one Charley couldn’t remember asked with a sneer, a disgusting-looking cigar hanging between his lips.
“You’ll forgive me, Your Grace.” Mr. Spencer made a quick bow.
Oh, yes. She’d forgotten that aside from the Duke of Blackheart, there had been another one. The Duke of Wrentail? Or was it Wrenhill? Charley only remembered that this particular gentleman hadn’t spent much time with the other guests over the past two weeks. “Miss Jackson isn’t interested in dancing this evening, but has, ahem, a considerable purse with which to wager.”
“Would be nice to play with someone willing to wager more than vowels. What do you say, Wagtail?” Chaswick turned with a lecherous smile. “I, for one, could use some weight in my pockets.”
“Brightly?” The duke raised bushy eyebrows questioningly across the table.
The earl scowled deeply. He had to know precisely who she was and the threat she posed to his daughter.
Charley removed the drawstring tie from around her wri
st and when Mr. Spencer held out a hand to her, she dropped the full weight into his flattened palm. He then made something of a fuss of loosening the strings and peering inside before shrugging. “What do you say, gentlemen? Who are we to deny the lady a little entertainment?”
“Do you play much?” Lord Brightly’s eyes matched his name as they shifted from her face to the velvet pouch she’d brought along and then back again.
“With my father on occasion. And with a few of his employees.”
“You’re that American chit.” The duke was looking her up and down now as well. And then he laughed. Charley didn’t have to think hard to guess what he was thinking: How good can a woman be at poker? An American at that? Charley relaxed her mouth into a vapid expression. The biggest mistake a person could ever make while playing cards was to underestimate one’s opponents.
These men had been wagering over cards for longer than she’d been alive. She needed to remain alert while appearing seemingly relaxed. For added measure, she pursed her lips into a pout.
“Can’t hurt, can it?” Lord Brightly finally added, indicating the only empty chair left at the table. “Eh, Greystone?”
The look Lord Greystone sent her way ought to have turned her to ice. “As long as she isn’t chatty.” She could almost believe that he would send her packing if she so much as giggled.
Mr. Spencer pulled out a chair and with another glance around the table, Charley dropped into it slowly.
“Shall we, gentlemen?”
Chapter 29
PIN MONEY
For the first few hands, Charley played conservatively, watching the other participants, trying to get a read on their expressions, on their motions. Because not only would she have to win one particular hand against Lord Brightly, she needed to manipulate the game so that the others dropped out. And although Lords Greystones and Chaswick might make some attempt to assist her, she’d rather they did not. It would be too obvious.
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