The Lord’s Desperate Pledge Page 8

  Lily stared at Lord Ashworth. She very much doubted he would deny it, as it was just the sort of ridiculous opinion he would hold. Steady nerves and composure indeed. Clinging to such ideas as those, he must have been especially mortified to lose to her.

  “What I expressed as my opinion is true,” Lord Ashworth said, “and come upon through careful observation.”

  “Do not go on with this, Ashworth,” Lord Dalton said quietly.

  Lord Ashworth glanced irritated at his friend. “Why should I not? The fairer sex is blessed with many other fine attributes.”

  “Though not the steady nerves for a serious wager,” Lily said softly.

  “That is correct,” Lord Ashworth said.

  “I do not think Miss Farnsworth agrees with you,” Lady Montague said with some delight.

  “I do not,” Lily said.

  “Well, diverse opinions make the world go round,” Lord Dalton said. “Perhaps we might make the leap to another topic.”

  Lady Montague raised an eyebrow. “Do you try to rescue your friend, Lord Dalton?”

  “I do not require rescue, Lady Montague,” Lord Ashworth said curtly.

  Lily fumed. How on earth could this man keep hold of his condescending opinions about females when the female in front of him had trounced him just days ago? Further, she’d employed the sort of tactics that only the steadiest of nerves could withstand and he well knew it.

  “Lord Ashworth is right, he does not require rescue,” Lily said. “What the gentleman requires is a proper amount of respect for the skill he has encountered so recently.”

  “One game does not prove anything,” Lord Ashworth said.

  “Would two?” Lily said, smiling.

  “Ashworth!” Lord Dalton said under his breath.

  “If you are insistent on a rematch,” Lord Ashworth said stiffly.

  “Oh, I think she is,” Lady Montague said, her voice full of satisfaction.

  “She is,” Lily said.

  “I suppose fifty pounds will not be too rich for either of you?” Lady Montague asked, before sailing away to her guests.

  It was no wonder at all that the news of the proposed game between Miss Farnsworth and Lord Ashworth was swiftly communicated to all of the clusters of people in Lady Montague’s drawing room. Like rabbits overrunning a garden, the idea hopped from here to there and back again.

  Lily had moved away from Lord Ashworth and Lord Dalton and sought out her aunt.

  As she watched Lord Dalton whisper furiously at Lord Ashworth, she listened to her aunt’s opinion on the matter. Mrs. Hemming did not see anything good in it and Lily was forced to own that she’d been severely provoked. That had led her aunt on a winding path about young people and their prickly natures. According to Mrs. Hemming, with youth came a propensity to be offended. That uncomfortable attribute gently faded with time, until one hardly cared for anybody’s opinion. Though the idea took some time to finally arrive at, Lily thought her aunt was likely right.

  She did not tell her aunt that the wager was fifty pounds. She could hardly have even spoken such a thing. She’d never played for such a sum in her life!

  As much as she had been intrigued by the idea that the bets would be higher in London, fifty pounds! An amount such as that had never occurred to her.

  Now, she sat across from Lord Ashworth. The other card tables were empty, as everybody else had gathered round them to watch. The lord had claimed the deal, noting that she had been the dealer on the last. Lily thought him a fool for taking the disadvantage and assumed it was the pride in him that pressed him to do it. It was not very clever, as he would have had a time of it beating her if she had taken the disadvantage.

  On the other hand, she was grateful he was being so foolish. There was the fifty pounds to think about. Were she to lose, it would take everything she had, and some borrowing from her aunt besides, to pay the debt.

  Her hand was a good one, very good. Her draw was even better, and she took careful note of the next few cards so she could remember them if Lord Ashworth picked them up. She’d had such hands before and knew precisely how to play it.

  They moved through the points, sequences, triplets, and fours with alacrity. She sunk nothing, her hand was so strong that she need not feint and rather thought it would be pleasant to communicate that strength to her opponent. He was good enough at the game that she could see he did rapid calculations in his head. He knew he was in for a time of it.

  She took the first trick, and then the majority after that.

  Now that she played Lord Ashworth for a second time, she began to see more clearly some of his weaknesses.

  He twice turned over his discards, so his memory was not as good as her own. She had no need to examine her pile or wonder about his. They conveniently ranged themselves in her mind. This put him at a serious disadvantage—he might peek at his own pile all he liked, but he could not look at hers.

  His expression, while for the most part neutral, did give some hints. When he was disturbed, there was the slightest tightening of his mouth. When he thought he’d win the trick, there was the smallest narrowing of his eyes.

  His hands showed his confidence, or lack thereof, in his cards. Smooth and quick, or slower and slightly uneven.

  These subtle changes would go unremarked by most people, but not to Lily.

  Lily handily won the first game. She noted Lord Dalton move away with a look of disgust while Lady Montague appeared a well-fed cat. Mrs. Hemming, despite having reservations about the game, could not help but be approving of Lily’s win.

  The match went on, point by point. Lily would give the lord some credit for being more skilled than most. She found she must use all of her concentration, all of her strategies, and all of her attention to her opponent’s varying expressions, lest she allow him to overcome her.

  That he did not overcome her was evidenced by the applause as she reached one-hundred points.

  As she always did at the end of a hard-won game, Lily felt a sense of exhaustion. It was as if her mind had expended every ounce of energy in her body.

  As the onlookers drifted away, talking among themselves of this famous rematch, Lord Ashworth said quietly, “What trickery do you employ?”

  Lily felt a burst of flame upon her cheeks. Trickery? Did he just have the audacity to accuse her of cheating?

  “My lord, you have been soundly beaten, and fairly,” she said.

  Before Lord Ashworth could respond, he was unceremoniously hauled to his feet by Lord Dalton.

  “My apologies, Lady Montague,” Lord Dalton said, holding tight to his friend’s arm. “You do recall we said we had another engagement? Otherwise, we would have been pleased to stay longer.”

  Lady Montague might have, in other circumstances, been irritated to see her two prize guests depart her evening early. In this circumstance, however, she appeared to view it in all good humor.

  As well she should, Lily thought. The lady had maneuvered to produce enough gossip for a week.

  *

  Lily had spent the rest of the evening at Lady Montague’s as an object of interest. There were those who sought out her advice on this strategy or that. There were those who congratulated her on prevailing over one of the most respected gamblers in town. There were many who pressed her to partner at whist, particularly Mrs. Layton, though none of them had never seen Lily play that particular game.

  Lady Montague was all condescension, as if she had done Lily some great favor. The lady’s friends congratulated her on an interesting evening and she took it in as if she were a feudal lord accepting her vassals’ fealty.

  Finally, she and her aunt had made their departure. Lily hoped to never see the inside of Lady Montague’s drawing room again.

  As exhausted as she was when she returned to her aunt’s house, Lily had a deal of trouble falling asleep. Her thoughts were agitated as they could not settle in one direction.

  She had won fifty pounds! It was such a marvelous idea that it did no
t seem real. What a sum! Of course, Lord Ashworth would not miss it, it would be nothing to him. But to Lily Farnsworth, it was an incredible amount. She would send half to her father and use the rest when she and her aunt went to visit Lady Carradine’s club.

  It was a happy thought, indeed.

  And then, there were the unhappy thoughts. Lord Ashworth was everything contemptible in a man. His good looks and competency at cards had led him to believe he was superior in every way. As if his enraging condescension were not enough, he could not even lose graciously.

  He’d asked her what trickery she employed, as if she were some sort of scoundrel who had devised a way to cheat.

  She did not think many had overheard that particular comment, perhaps only Lord Dalton. Still, it infuriated her. Everybody who viewed that game would be well aware that skill had won the day, not trickery. How dare he imply such a thing?

  He was intolerable and it would please her if he and his handsome face jumped off London Bridge. It would please her even more if he did so and suddenly recalled that he could not swim.

  Chapter Six

  The Lords Ashworth and Dalton trotted through the dark streets after departing Lady Montague’s card party.

  “As you mean to be silent,” Lord Dalton said, “I will carry on both sides of the conversation. You say to me, thank you for pulling me out of Lady Montague’s house before I said anything else outrageous. Then, I say to you, you’re very welcome friend, but you must watch your tongue. The girl has a father, and perhaps even brothers, it will not do well to accuse her of trickery, which is tantamount to an accusation of cheating.”

  “You saw it for yourself!” Hayes muttered.

  “I did not, actually,” Lord Dalton said. “I walked away after she trounced you on the first play. I occupied myself with a cold ham until it seemed the game was coming to an end.”

  “Nobody is that good,” Hayes said. “Nobody.”

  “It appears she is that good,” Lord Dalton said drily.

  Hayes did not answer, but spurred his horse to a quicker pace. There was something about Miss Farnsworth’s play that he did not understand. If it was not trickery, and now that he was reflecting on it he saw that it could not have been—she had not been in her own house and had not produced her own cards—there was some method involved.

  How could it be that there was some method or strategy that he had not discovered for himself? He’d studied the game backward and forward. He’d spent endless hours playing out one scenario after the next. He understood Hoyle as he understood himself and he’d studied every treatise on probability and chance. Nobody knew the game better than he did.

  Except, apparently, Miss Farnsworth.

  He really hoped she would keep herself out of his way going forward. She might be exceedingly pleasant to look at, but their encounters always ended unpleasantly.

  “I know you are in the habit of winning,” Lord Dalton said, “but you must practice being a more gracious loser. Rather unsportsmanlike to talk of trickery.”

  “I have no intention of playing the lady again,” Hayes said through gritted teeth. “Further, it was not a trick exactly, but there is some method to her play that is new.”

  Lord Dalton snorted. “Careful you do not begin to sound like a boy who needs his governess while you’re at it.” The lord turned his horse down a side street toward his house and left Hayes on the avenue.

  As he watched his friend’s dark figure pass under a lamplight, Hayes attempted to brush off the sting of his friend’s remarks. The sting was deuced hard to brush off, as it had the ring of truth. Regardless of what he’d thought in the moment, he should not have actually said it. Especially now that he’d had time to reflect. It had not been trickery, but it had been something.

  He silently vowed that he would do his utmost to avoid Miss Farnsworth in future. He had lost sixty pounds to the lady and he would not lose a pound more.

  *

  Lily sat in the drawing room, barely attending to a piece of embroidery.

  “Infuriating!” she whispered, once more reviewing Lord Ashworth’s comment on trickery.

  “Miss?”

  She glanced up to see Ranier standing before her.

  “Goodness, Ranier, I did not even hear you enter. I was too far away in my own thoughts.”

  Ranier nodded and said, “Whatever or whoever has infuriated you, I stand firmly against them.”

  Lily smiled. It was comforting to know that whatever went on out in the world, as far as Ranier was concerned, she was always in the right. The dear man did not even need to inquire into the circumstances before staunchly siding with her.

  “You have little idea how much that sentiment cheers me,” she said, taking the card the butler held out on a silver tray.

  “Miss Darlington is here,” Ranier said. “She is aware that it is not your at-home day, but decided she might chance a visit.” The butler gazed over Lily’s head and said disapprovingly, “She has arrived driving a phaeton, with a rather fierce looking boy of a tiger hanging off the back.”

  “I have heard of her penchant for it,” Lily said. “Do show her in, Ranier.”

  The butler bowed and said, “I will arrange for tea forthwith.”

  Ranier left the room and Lily rose to greet Miss Darlington. She was eager to make the acquaintance of one who had already been so kind to her.

  Miss Darlington fairly danced into the room behind Ranier. “There you are, Miss Farnsworth!”

  Lily had not been sure what to expect, but the lady who stood before her had been nowhere in her imagination. She was more petite than Lily and hardly seemed a lady who could control the sort of horses that pulled a phaeton. Her copper curls wound charming circles round her features and her expression was all cheerful friendliness.

  “Miss Darlington,” Lily said, guiding her to a sofa. “How kind of you to come and see me.”

  “Nonsense,” Miss Darlington said. “Cassandra recommended you highly and so I must make myself known to you as soon as I could.”

  “And I must thank you for the lovely things you sent to me in Surrey. I presume Cassandra told you I did not have the means to outfit myself in such a fashion.”

  “Yes, of course she did,” Miss Darlington said. “Though you need not thank me again, your letter was quite sufficient. In any case, I was delighted to throw myself into the scheme—my father is very generous and I never know what to do with the money he gives me. That is, unless it’s about the purchase of a horse. By the by, is your aunt nearby? I wonder if she would allow you to go on a drive, it is a very fine day and the park will not be crowded at this hour.”

  “In your phaeton?” Lily asked in some wonder.

  “Yes, indeed in the phaeton. You are not to worry over it, I’m a capital whip.”

  Before Lily could respond to that particular comment, Mrs. Hemming came into the room. “Ah, it is so,” she said. “Rainier told me a lady was here. Miss Darlington, well! Look at you! Those curls are the color of a copper roof. Before it goes green, you understand.”

  Lily’s eyes widened at this assessment of Miss Darlington’s hair, and dearly hoped the lady was not easily offended.

  Miss Darlington only laughed and hopped up in an energetic fashion to make her curtsy to Mrs. Hemming.

  “I wonder, Mrs. Hemming,” Miss Darlington said, “if you would allow Lily to go on a drive. I find it is so conducive to conversation and the day is particularly fine.”

  “It would be in a phaeton, Aunt,” Lily added, to be certain her aunt understood the real circumstance.

  “In that phaeton just outside?” Mrs. Hemming asked.

  “The very one,” Miss Darlington said.

  “But there’s only a boy holding the reins. Goodness, did you drive it? Do you mean to drive my Lily in that contraption?”

  “Just so,” Miss Darlington said.

  While her aunt considered this unique proposal, Lily hid a smile. She might think it unusual, but it was clear as day that
Miss Darlington viewed it the most commonplace thing in the world.

  “I am her guardian while she is here,” Mrs. Hemming said to herself. “I must be careful on that front. On the other hand, there is no use denying the fineness of the day, I was just out there myself. This is a bit of a muddle.”

  “I can assure you, Mrs. Hemming, I am a very experienced whip and exceedingly sensible. There will be no racing down streets or chasing coaches or all that nonsense the gentlemen get up to. Further, my tiger can be counted upon to be a veritable tiger if we run anywhere near trouble. He is my father’s own and well-armed.”

  This, for reasons only known to Mrs. Hemming, seemed to sway her opinion.

  “I will agree to the scheme, as long as a carriage with two grooms follows behind. Lily, send word to your stable that you have need of them. There, I think that is a fine solution. I do not like to say no to a pleasant scheme, but I do not like to say yes unless everything is comfortably arranged.”

  Miss Darlington appeared delighted. Ranier, barely containing both his disapproval and alarm, said, “I will take the liberty of sending one of the footmen to the stables. The carriage will arrive shortly.”

  Lily’s carriage trotted to the doors before a half hour was up. When she had arrived to London, she had taken Ranier’s advice that she might depend upon Mr. Thurber when selecting a carriage house. His stables were nearby, he was a reliable sort, and he only hired the most competent and respectful grooms.

  Lily stepped outside, tying her bonnet, and nearly staggered. She was certain Cassandra had said Miss Darlington drove a conservative little phaeton, but that was not what was before her.

  It was an exceedingly tall vehicle, with enormous wheels on the back, painted a bright yellow with black trim. It was light-boned but towered above her to such a degree that she wondered how it did not tip over. It was pulled by two fancy greys who pawed the ground when they caught sight of their mistress. The whole set-up looked suitable for a member of the Four-in-Hand.

  “She’s new,” Miss Darlington said, gazing lovingly at her vehicle. “A Hooper High-Flyer. Goodness, I had a time of it convincing my father to buy it.”