by Archer, Kate
Lily and Lord Ashworth were alone. Of course, there were many other tables set up and filled with card players. They were not alone as they had been in Lady Carradine’s attic. But at least none were left at their own table.
Lord Ashworth took the cards and began removing the lower. “Piquet?” he asked.
Lily smiled. “If you wish it,” she said. “Though I would not like to play for high stakes.”
“But we have all along been playing for paltry stakes,” Lord Ashworth said.
Good Lord, they had played for fifty pounds at Lady Montague’s card party. Did he wish to play for some even more enormous sum? That would present a quandary. She could not afford to lose such an extravagant amount. And yet, she did not wish to go back to their relations after his previous defeats. What was she to do?
“I am afraid not, my lord,” she said. “You are aware of my financial situation. I dare not attempt it.”
Lord Ashworth waved his hand, as if to dismiss what she’d said. “You speak of money. Perhaps we could play for more important stakes? Name anything you like.”
Lily considered it. There were questions she would like answered regarding his feelings, though she did not dare ask them. There was also the question of what had happened to his arm, and that she thought she could dare ask.
“If I win, you will tell me what really happened to your arm,” she said.
“Done,” Lord Ashworth said.
Two young gentlemen had drifted toward their table, intrigued to see Miss Farnsworth and Lord Ashworth once again at play.
“And you?” Lily asked. “If you were to prevail, and I am very sorry to say that I do not think you will, what would you claim as your prize?”
Lord Ashworth smiled. “I admit, my chances are slim, and yet I will try it. I will make a desperate pledge for the hand of Miss Farnsworth.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lily felt she had gone white as a sheet. She was almost afraid she had misheard, until one of the young gentlemen repeated the idea and made off toward the ballroom with the news. The other stood behind Lord Ashworth, rapt.
“You see,” Lord Ashworth said, “I have finally come to admit your skill to be superior to my own. Therefore, it will be you who chooses who will win and who will lose. If you lose, I will be made the happiest of men. If I lose, I will know your mind and not burden you with repeating the sentiment.”
Lord Ashworth began to deal.
Lily sat stock still. He wished to marry! Yes, he did, he’d said it. And not privately either. Everybody was to know he wished for the hand of Miss Farnsworth. A desperate pledge for her hand. All she had to do was lose to him.
She picked up her cards as the room became more and more crowded. Her heart sank as she looked at them. It was a good hand. Too good! She must rid herself of all these face cards!
She discarded them and picked up from the stock. Excellent. They were dreadful. They were so dreadful that she waited for Lord Ashworth to discard, and then she said happily, “Oh dear, carte blanche.”
Lord Ashworth’s hands tightened ever so gently on his cards. As she had noted when last they played, his lips pressed ever so slightly together—a sure sign he was happy with his hand. He knew she would work to lose the game. He knew her mind.
So they went on, Lily making every mistake she knew how to avoid. She sunk nothing and was rather gleeful over the fact that she’d nothing valuable enough to sink.
She played one bad hand after the next. She must get Lord Ashworth to one hundred points as soon as possible.
Lily did her best to ignore the talk swirling around their table. She could not help hearing some of it, though.
“I do not see why everybody has claimed she is so good,” one young gentleman said.
His friend nudged him in the ribs and said, “The wager is will she have him, you numbskull. If she loses, she will have him. What do you think she means to do?”
Lord Ashworth laid down a final trick. “To one hundred, Miss Farnsworth. Do you admit defeat?”
“Oh, yes,” Lily said, laughing. “And you had better call me Lily.”
Lord Ashworth reached across the table and took her hand. “I will ride for Surrey on the morrow to see your father. In the meantime, I believe I have the right to escort my fiancée to the gardens for air?”
The night air was fresh and cool after the heat of the crowded card room. The paper flowers waved gently in the breeze, their colors showing in the moonlight. Lord Ashworth led her through the garden paths.
Lily was deliriously happy, though she said not a thing. What did one say at such a moment?
“I fear you must have been shocked at my declaration,” Lord Ashworth said. “I have not represented myself in a particularly favorable light. I certainly have not gone about a courting in the usual way.”
“We have not gone about much in the usual way,” Lily said, glad he’d broken the silence. She had more to say, things she wished to know, she only did not know how to begin.
“I did think,” she said slowly, “that you avoided me this past week.”
“I did not,” Lord Ashworth said. “I was truly indisposed, just not with a fever.”
“Your arm?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happened.”
The lord seemed to hesitate, as if he were not certain he would tell her. Then he said, “Mr. Shine thought to blackmail me. To blackmail us. He threatened to put it about that we had been alone for a period of time in an empty house. I met him in Hyde Park the night of Lady Blakeley’s half mask.”
“But you attended the mask,” Lily said. “And told us to stay away, so I thought—”
“I made an early appearance and then slipped away. I did not wish to cause talk by not appearing and I did not want you and your aunt to be out on the town. I could not be everywhere at once and I could not be sure if Mr. Shine worked with any associates that might attempt a kidnaping as a further means of funds. The men I employ are experienced, but I would not have risked it.”
“And then he shot you in the park?”
Lord Ashworth nodded. “And I shot him too, but I think only a graze.”
“Though yours was more than a graze.”
“Yes, well, he took me by surprise. He shot when my back was turned.”
“You might have been killed!” Lily said. “It would have been my fault. I was so foolish to get us into that situation to begin. Why I did not hold my tongue when I realized the cards were marked, I will never know.”
Lord Ashworth’s hand had been slowly traveling from Lily’s hand to around her waist. Lily had been very accommodating in pretending not to notice.
He pulled her close and lifted her chin. “Come, my little piquet genius, no regrets now.”
He softly touched her lips with his own. It was a gentle kiss and over too soon. Lily surprised him by kissing him back not quite so gentle, though it appeared to be a not unwelcome surprise. She thought it well that he was to know how to steal a kiss or two, as she hoped that he stole them often.
A sudden thought broke into her happiness. “Your estates,” she cried. “My dowry is not… Oh! Miss Blaise!”
Lord Ashworth kissed her again to put a stop to her words. He pulled away and whispered, “Do cease being a ninny about money and, good God, never mention Miss Blaise again. We will find a way forward and I will provide for your sisters, too. My holdings are on their way to profit and I will see that they stay that way.”
Lily felt relief flood through her. There was no need to consider Miss Blaise or any other heiress.
“You shall have everything you wish for,” Lord Ashworth said. “I have always vowed my wife shall not be pinched. Now, tell me—what would you prefer as a wedding present?
Lily had not grown up swimming in fripperies and did not much care. She had what she wanted. Though, the smallest idea presented itself to her.
“I wonder,” she said, “if you would ever have a need to employ a young man.
A very young man with no particular skills.”
“Would this be a young man once seen lurking on Lady Jersey’s steps?” Lord Ashworth asked.
“Indeed, Sam,” Lily said, surprised. “How can you know him?”
“Because I was in my carriage listening to that rather remarkable exchange. I am certain I fell in love with you when you demanded water, a roll, a tuppence, and a bath for that scamp. I employed him that very day, and his mother too—you could not really expect that Riddick would continue to pay him a tuppence forevermore?”
“I did hope he would…”
“He certainly would not have. Now you must tell me when you fell violently in love with me,” Lord Ashworth said, playing with a curl at her neck.
“So you are violently in love with me?”
“Terribly.”
“Violently, well… I suppose there were the two times I fell into your arms and then the interesting trip to your carriage.”
“Hah, had I known, I might have carried you round Berkeley Square days ago.”
“Riddick would have been appalled,” Lily said, laughing.
“And what care we? In any case, my darling,” he said, “I thought we might take a wedding trip to the Continent. I imagine there are no end of players who would challenge us. Then, we can return at our leisure and scandalize a hundred Riddicks if we like.”
Lily felt a lightness about her that she had not yet known in her life of worry. She erupted in peals of laughter. “Do we dare it? We may become notorious.”
“Of course we dare it. No lady has the steady nerves of my Lily,” Lord Ashworth said, “Further, after we have built up our fortune, I propose we keep ten thousand in a bank between us. We might bet one another for years to come.”
“Are you certain you could ever prevail?” Lily asked playfully.
“Perhaps,” he said. “If I can ever figure out your secret.”
“Oh, it is no secret really,” Lily said. “I see details where others do not, and I remember them.”
“I shudder to think what you have seen in me,” Lord Ashworth said.
“Perhaps different things at different moments,” Lily said. “Though all seems remarkably clear and settled now.”
“I will work to remain the man you see now, then. You will never have to question me again.”
Lily touched his cheek and said, “Do not become too staid, though. Even when I disliked you, I found you rather dashing.”
“Then I’d best sweep you off your feet and take you in,” Lord Ashworth said, “just as I carried you to my carriage.”
“But your arm,” Lily said.
“My arms will always be able to carry you.”
And so Lord Ashworth swept her up, as he had on the fateful night he’d rescued them both from the clutches of Mr. Shine. They weaved through the garden and the hedges and crossed over the bridge and into Hampton Court once more. Though, far different than when they had left it.
There may have been some who stared at Lord Ashworth carrying Miss Farnsworth down the corridor. Only some, though, as news of their latest bet had run through the ball like a housefire.
Miss Farnsworth had finally been defeated by Lord Ashworth. Unlike Lord Ashworth’s earlier experiences, she seemed to take the loss with all good humor.
*
While it was true that Mrs. Hemming had encouraged Lily to think better of Lord Ashworth, she was rather staggered to hear that her niece had engaged herself to the man.
Lord Ashworth’s wound did open again, and his butler and valet could not imagine what had gone on at a ball to cause it. He’d only ordered it bound up and rode for Surrey hours later. He’d gone on Horus, which was the height of carelessness. However, being young and strong, the wound healed up in less than a fortnight, despite his egregious lack of care.
Permission to wed was easily granted once Mr. Farnsworth was assured of Ashworth’s circumstances, as well as Lily’s own intentions by a letter from her that he’d carried with him. Not only would Ashworth make his daughter a duchess someday, but on further acquaintance it was discovered he was a man who understood the business of an estate. There was nothing else more important to Mr. Farnsworth, save his family. The estate had been the driving force of his life and it pleased him to discuss various strategies with another likeminded gentleman.
The contract was easily done, though there had been some wrangling over the inclusion of dowries for Mr. Farnsworth’s two youngest daughters. He did not like to discuss the idea that those dowries did not yet exist. Lord Ashworth pressed hard on the subject, pointing out that if the girls were to come to him and Lily when they were of age, they must be suitably situated. He eventually won the debate, as Mr. Farnsworth had always been a man of good sense.
Letters went out to both the duke and the duchess. Hayes knew his father would be delighted, as he could crow about it to his friends. He’d written his mother’s letter more carefully and in stronger language. It was his mother who might take issue with the idea that Lily Farnsworth was neither titled nor an heiress. He wished to convey the finality of his decision.
The duchess had not answered his letter. On the one hand, that might be viewed positive—she had not written against it. On the other, he could not be certain she was not silently fuming. No matter, whether she was for or against, it would be done. The duchess was sure to come round eventually. Or, if she did not, she could hold her peace.
A fortnight later, Lord Dalton raged in his library. Lord Cabot came into the room and found a letter thrown at him. “They’ll never give it up now,” Dalton said. “We’re as good as defeated. Resign yourself to poverty, my friend. There has been another traitor in our midst.”
Lord Cabot picked up the letter and smoothed it out.
Dalton, Cabot and Grayson—
I address you all together as you are living under the same roof and I am too busy to write you separately. I have married Miss Farnsworth under special license this fine morning in Surrey. Burke acted as my best man, as of course none of you could be trusted to do it. It was a small affair as that was what we both preferred. As well, I had no wish of you discovering it before the deed was done. I have not forgotten that Lockwood was once jailed in that house.
I am fairly certain Dalton is gone through the roof just now and you other two are in a sulk. Especially you, Grayson—though, really, your compliments never had the slightest chance with my wife. I will see you when I return from my wedding trip. One hopes you might have regained your equanimity by then.
Though you will not wish to hear my advice, I give it anyway. You will all marry, whether there is a pact between your fathers or not. When you meet the lady you are destined for, no amount of struggle will free you from the net. You ought to resign yourselves to it. It is a very pleasant defeat.
Ashworth
“It is a jest, certainly,” Lord Cabot said. “Ashworth positively dislikes the lady.”
Lord Dalton’s fingers wrapped themselves around a marble paperweight. “Do you really think Ashworth would joke on this subject? With me?”
In fact, Lord Cabot did not, and slowly backed from the room before something heavier than a letter was flung at him.
*
As things went along happily in England, so they did in New Orleans too. Nancy Manton had decided to cloak herself in another name once more so that there could be no danger of encountering someone who knew her past. Especially Mr. Shine. She could not know what had happened when he’d discovered she’d made off with the bank, but she shuddered to think of it.
She had refashioned herself as Rose Mendeby—spinster daughter of Viscount Kelberston. Her parents had both perished long ago and left her little. She’d been forced to make her way in the world. Her American friends approved of her accent and her refined manners and thought her brave to open a gambling establishment. They had been under the impression that ladies like herself, in such a situation, would resort to becoming a governess or companion.
Rose Me
ndeby would go on happily enough in that swampy town. The only circumstance that would ever disturb her peace was the tale told her by Mr. Jarvis, a gentleman returning from Venezuela. The man owned a mine of some sort and spoke of the eccentric exiles one might encounter in that country.
He told of a particularly gruesome circumstance involving a one-legged fellow who had dogged him for a job. It was ludicrous, of course—the man used a crutch and could barely get around. One day, the fellow actually turned up at the mine. As he hobbled along after Mr. Jarvis, hurling both pleadings and insults, his crutch slipped at the edge of an old and deep shaft. He tumbled in and his shouts could be heard for some seconds before he hit the bottom. Naturally, it was silence after that.
Nancy had listened with complacence to the story, well used to Mr. Jarvis’ habit of telling tales that no lady wished to hear.
Then he’d said, “We couldn’t get him out, you see. We had to leave him there. I suppose he was dead in any case. He was English, somebody told me. Lost his leg on the way over, rotten luck. Reginald Shine was his name.”
Nancy never knew if her expression had given her away. That she’d gone white was evident, as Mr. Jarvis said he supposed that he ought not tell a lady such a fright.
Her horror did not stay with her long, though. After all, Mr. Shine was dead.
*
Lily and her lord stayed on at Farnsworth House for a week. It was a merry week. They both enjoyed her family’s hospitality. Her husband and her father appreciated one another’s company and spent a deal of time talking in the library. Lord Burke stayed on for a few days and became a favorite with Lily’s sisters. In truth, they were both in love with him and hoped he would not marry before they had their seasons. Lily called them both gooses but allowed them to dream of having a season in which money was not a care. It would be unlike her own and she was glad of it.
