"How're they doing?"
Judith chuckled. "Pretty well, on the whole. Cornelia has the most difficulty. It's strange, because she's so clever in so many other areas. She plays the pianoforte beautifully and composes her own music, you know. And reads Latin and Greek."
"Very bookish," Sebastian agreed. "And completely cow-handed."
"Oh, that's unkind." But Judith couldn't help smiling. "Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing how they do. They're all absolutely determined to succeed."
"Heaven preserve the husbands of London," Sebastian teased. "How will they ensure their wives' loyalty if they can't ensure their dependence?"
Judith grimaced. "That may be a quizzing observation, Sebastian, but it has an unpleasant ring of truth. If you could hear Isobels description of the humiliating performance…" Remembering Charlie's presence, she stopped abruptly. Such details were not for his tender ears.
Sebastian nodded in instant comprehension. "I take it back… I must be off. I promised to escort Harriet and her mother to the Botanic Gardens." He pulled a comical face.
"Whatever for? I'm sure Harriet would prefer to visit the lions at the Exchange."
"And so would I, but her revered mama does not consider it edifying, so the Botanic Gardens it is."
"Well, make sure you have a plentiful supply of sal volatile, in case Lady Moreton becomes overcome with excitement among the orchids."
"You are a disrespectful wretch," Sebastian declared.
"Yes, I'd noticed that myself," came Carrington's voice from the doorway. "How do you do, Sebastian?" He tossed his riding whip onto the sofa and Jrew off his gloves.
"Well enough, thank you." Sebastian grinned at his brother-in-law and picked up his hat from the side table. "Perhaps you could cure m'sister's lamentable tongue."
"Oh, I've tried, Sebastian, I've tried. It's a lost cause."
"I suppose it is. Pity, though."
"Would you two stop talking about me as if I weren't here?" Judith demanded in half-laughing indignation.
"I'm away." Sebastian blew his sister a kiss and went to the door.
"Oh, there's something I need to discuss with you, Sebastian," Marcus said. "But I can see you're in a hurry."
"Orchids await him," Judith murmured as the door closed behind her brother.
"What?"
"Orchids. He's gone to dance attendance on Lady Moreton."
"Good God, why?"
"Because he intends her for his mother-in-law."
"Hell and the devil," Marcus said. "The daughter's a considerable heiress, of course."
"What has that to do with it?" Judith demanded, bristling.
"Why, only that all sane young men with barely a feather to fly with are on the lookout for heiresses," Marcus responded casually. "What are you playing, Charlie?" He strolled over to the card table.
Charlie didn't immediately reply. He could see Judith's face and he was wondering why Marcus hadn't noticed the reaction his words were causing.
Judith said stiffly, "You know nothing about Sebastian's circumstances."
"No, but 1 assume he supports himself at the tables. I doubt the Moretons will look kindly upon his suit." Marcus turned to pick up the sherry decanter from the pier table.
"Well, I trust you'll be in for a surprise."
"I'd be happy to believe it, but you must face facts,}udith." He poured sherry, blithely indifferent to the effect he was having on his wife. "People like the Moretons would look kindly on an impoverished suitor only if he brought a significant title."
"I see," Judith said icily, and firmly closed her lips. Rapidly, she finished dealing the cards.
"So what are you playing?" Marcus inquired again, casually sipping sherry.
"Macao," Charlie said, eager to change the subject. Judith was looking very dangerous, and he could detect the slightest tremor in the long white fingers. "You see, I'm not very good at gaming-" he began.
"No, you're abominable," Marcus agreed, interrupting. "A baby could beat you… which is why you're
in the trouble you're in," he added. "I'd have thought you'd do better to find some other way of amusing your-self."
"But once I learn how to win, I won't have any debts," Charlie explained eagerly. "So Judith's teaching me."
"She's what" Marcus exclaimed, his cheerful insouciance gone. Sebastian had been in the room too, and the memory of another macao table in a ballroom in Brussels filled his mind and chased away all rational thought. How could he ever have thought he could bury the past? "And just how is she teaching you to win?"
On top of the insult to Sebastian-insults Marcus didn't even seem aware of-this was too much. Judith knew quite well what he was implying, and the last shreds of control over her volcanic temper were severed.
"Well, there's a little trick I know," she declared, the lynx eyes ablaze. "It involves nicking the right-hand corner of the knaves… it's almost impossible to detect if one does it aright; and then there's-"
The goad found its mark. Marcus exploded, his expression livid. "That'll do!"
With an incoherent mumble Charlie leaped to his feet and hastily left the room, closing the door behind him.
"I will not have you interfering in my family concerns," Marcus stated. "I've already told you that Charlie is my business, and I will not have him influenced by your dubious ethics, your views, your practices-"
"How dare you!" Judith sprang up from the table in violent interruption. "How could you imagine I would teach Charlie to be a cardsharp?"
"From what I know of you, very easily," Marcus snapped. "You forget I know full well how you go about winning."
Judith was now as pale as she'd been flushed with anger a minute before. "You are unjust," she stated flatly. "First you accuse my brother of fortune hunting, and then you accuse me of the ultimate unscrupulousness. I wish to God we'd never met." The words were spoken before she had a chance to monitor them, and there they lay, like stones on the air between them.
For a moment Marcus was silent. The hiss and crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room. Then he said, "Do you?" His eyes were fixed on her face with an almost aching intensity.
"Don't you?" Her voice was now flat, the fire had died in her eyes, and for some reason she was crying inside. But her face showed no emotion.
"Sometimes… when… sometimes," he said slowly. When he found himself loving her and then he'd remember her trickery, the use to which she could put her beauty and her passion-that was when he wished they'd never met. And that knowledge was never far from the surface, however hard he tried to bury it.
He went out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Judith stood in the middle of the room, the tears now coursing soundlessly down her cheeks. If they'd never met, she would have been spared this hurt. But if they'd never met, she would have missed…
She drew out her handkerchief and blew her nose. Soon enough she would be free to leave him. Soon enough he'd be free of his conniving trickster wife. Only why did such thoughts make her so miserable?
17
Bernard Melville was puzzled. He was losing to Sebastian Davenport and he couldn't work out how it was happening. His opponent was playing with his usual insouciance, lounging back in his chair, legs sprawled beneath the table, a goblet of cognac at his elbow. He laughed and joked with those who stopped beside the table to watch the play, often seemed careless of his discard, and yet the points were adding up with a remorseless momentum.
Bernard had lost the first hand, won the second by a hair, and was clearly about to lose the third. The cards seemed to be running evenly, although Davenport had laughingly congratulated himself when he'd looked at his hand, counted thirty points, and declared a repique. But the earl knew his own cards were certainly good enough to give him the edge even against a major hand when playing with someone less skilled than himself. And Sebastian Davenport was a careless, inexpert player… wasn't he?