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Lady Alex's Gamble
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"Very well then, I shall play deep, but mind you, the first time I lose..."
"You won't lose," her brother scoffed. "Why, you're far more likely to lose your disguise and your reputation gallivanting all over London as you seen to feel compelled to do, than you are to lose your blunt at a card game."
"I will not!" Alex was offended. "I think I make a better man than Alexander did."
"You won't get any argument from me there. Now come along. I must get back to the barracks. They're almost ready to change the guard."
They rode back to the Clarendon, each reflecting on the morning's events—Alex mulling over the major's surprising offer and Tony trying desperately to concoct a scheme for introducing himself to the beautiful young rider in the park. Alex spent the rest of the day writing to those she had left behind, regaling them with every detail she could think of—
relaying to Ally the latest style in bonnets and the cuts of pelisses she saw on the fashionable ladies on Bond Street, describing the fine points of her new mount to Andrew, and telling Abigail about the wealth of street vendors and the wonders of the great buildings. Finished with the letter, she caught up on the news, reading through a stack of the
Times
that had piled up on the chair. And lastly, mindful of the evening ahead of her, she lay down on the bed and did her best to fortify herself for the challenges to come. She dozed fitfully, with visions of hands and particular plays straggling in and out of her consciousness. At last she rose, and after consuming a light supper of boiled fowl, 136
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strolled off to Tony's barracks in an attempt to clear her head before settling to a night of play.
Tony was ready when she arrived and more than eager to discover what the evening held in store. "Don't be in such a pucker," he reassured his sister. "Wrotham would never steer you wrong. Mark my words, you're bound to leave White's a good deal more plump in the pocket tonight than when you came in."
"I hope so. Tony. I hope so." Alex sighed. The major was as good as his word. Though he was already seated at a table when they arrived, he was obviously keeping a watch out for them. The moment the de Montmorencys entered the gaming room he nodded and beckoned them over. "Ah, Hughes," he addressed the man across the table from him, "here is a partner worthy of your skill." He turned to Alex. "Let me introduce you to Ball Hughes, who is such an habitué of games of chance that nothing surprises him. I feel certain that you can offer him and Thanet and Granville here an evening enlivening enough to catch their attention."
With that, Alex found herself seated at the table with the three gentlemen. Though they nodded amiably enough at her, there was a gleam in their eyes and a distracted air of the dedicated gambler, someone for whom nothing held any interest except the next toss of the dice or turn of the card. However, these signs were somewhat reassuring to Alex, who had been convinced by her father's countless stories that those in the grip of such a fever could not begin to compete against a coldly rational opponent.
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This indeed proved to be true and Alex, at first unsure of her ability when faced by such noted gamesters, was soon confident that she was more than equal to them. The more successful she was, the more determined they were to continue playing, and the amounts placed as bets grew larger and larger. These astronomical figures were increased in response to the comments that Wrotham so deftly interjected. His "Why that is a paltry bet, Hughes. Surely you have more faith in Dame Fortune than that"; or "Granville, I never knew you to be so clutch-fisted. Surely you are not going to let Hughes outshine you..." only encouraged the players to risk higher and higher stakes.
The rest of the evening, and a good many of the morning hours as well, were a blur to Alex. Nothing existed for her beyond the green-covered table, the figures on the cards, and the white blur of the faces of the other players. All was darkness beyond the pool of light washing over them and nothing outside of that golden circle was of the slightest importance. Her head ached from the concentration, and her face was numb for maintaining a properly bored and impassive expression. As for her limbs, with the exception of the hands which held her cards, they had lost all feeling hours ago.
At last Lord Granville surveyed his cards and shook his head in disgust. "I have lost enough for one evening, gentlemen. I had better seek out less expensive company so that I may live to bet another day." And winking broadly, he rose from the table and headed for the door. 138
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"I'm with him," Thanet declared. "I have proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Goddess of Chance does not smile upon me this evening. I shall stop and give her some time to reconsider." And flinging an arm over his friend's shoulder, he too staggered out.
Alex looked at her partner and shrugged. "I daresay that means we must call it a night. Thank you, sir." And as casually as if she won fifty thousand pounds at every sitting, she rose and turned to her brother. "What do you say to a little fresh air, eh. Tony? I'm all for a stroll before retiring."
"Eh?" Not a little dizzy from having surreptitiously consumed Alex's constantly filled glass. Tony came to with a start. "Ah, er, yes, do me good. Just a quick one before duty calls."
Off observing the play at another table, Christopher saw them begin to make their way out. For once at a loss as to what to do, he stood rooted to the spot. On the one hand, he wanted to join them and review the evening's enormous success. On the other, he knew that the more he remained in the background, and the less connection he appeared to have with the de Montmorencys, the better.
Alex solved his dilemma for him as, wavering slightly on feet that were unsteady after hours of immobility, she managed to pass by his table on her way to the door.
"Appreciate your giving up your place, old fellow—damned fine play it was, damned fine." She nodded owlishly. "Capital fellows, all of them." And clapping a hand on his shoulder she winked almost imperceptibly before continuing on her erratic path.
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It was a gesture of a moment, the true significance of it cleverly hidden from all the rest, but the major had read the gratitude in de Montmorency's eyes and knew that his efforts on the lad's behalf had not been wasted.
It was so rare that anyone acknowledged his efforts or thanked him that Wrotham was surprised at how much the simple act of appreciation meant to him. In truth he had done very little, for it was the lad's extraordinary skill that had earned him a place at that particular table and kept him there long enough to win what must have been a sizeable amount, if the bulge in his pocket were any indication of his success. Christopher wanted to follow after them and assure them that the pleasure was his, that the gratification of helping someone help himself was reward enough, but he was forced to contain himself until such time as he could meet up with them privately.
Meanwhile, as she stepped outside, Alex heaved a sigh of relief and grabbed her brother's arm exultantly. "Fifty thousand, Tony!" She breathed. "Can you believe it? All in one sitting?"
"Told you so, Alex. A few more nights like this and I shall be free to do something restful like shipping off to the Continent to fight Boney." Tony grinned.
"Really, Anthony, you are the most provoking thing," his sister retorted. "But you are the best of brothers to help me, and I can't thank you enough."
"Don't thank me. Thank Wrotham. He's the one who is really going to help you repair our fortunes and free yourself from the clutches of Cranbourne."
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"Yes." Alex fell silent, thinking again how quickly the major had sensed she had some sort of mission in London and then, having wormed it out of her, had immediately proceeded to offer his most valuable assistance. He was a man of both sympathy and action—a very rare combination indeed. She only knew of one other such person, Trevor Padgett, and certainly the major was a good deal more attractive than the doctor.
Good heavens, where had such an absurd thought come from? She never paid the least attention to anyone's physical appearance. Now here she was recalling the expression in Wrotham's eyes and the energy radiating from him that made one even more aware of his height and the breadth of his shoulders. She never noticed such things and yet here she was remarking to herself that Major Lord Wrotham was a very striking-looking person indeed. Alex blinked. It was most definitely time to seek out her bed. Her wits, worn out by an evening of intense concentration, had obviously gone wandering.
Fortunately, brother and sister had been walking at a respectable pace and reached the Clarendon just as Alex recognized the complete deterioration of her faculties. She bade Tony good night and hurried up to her chamber. As she entered, she caught a glimpse of herself in the looking glass—
a slim, straight figure, long-limbed and moving with a certain pride, her hair glinting red in the candlelight. Come to think of it, she made a fine figure of a man herself. On that thought, she tumbled into bed fully clothed. The last thought in her mind, disturbingly enough, was of Lord Wrotham and whether 141
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or not she would continue to prove worthy of his interest and assistance.
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In truth, the next time Alex encountered the major it was in rather unexpected circumstances. The sun was alarmingly high when she awoke, fully dressed, to a room so bright that she knew it must be close to noon. Drat! She had missed her opportunity for a ride in the park while it was still uncrowded. Soon it would be filling up with elegant carriages and splendidly mounted riders all vying for attention. A ride at that hour, under such conditions, was not so much fresh air and exercise as it was a social affair fraught with as much gossip and slander as any ball or assembly. Strolling along Bond Street would be hardly less of a crush, but at least she could make mental notes of everything she saw and send it along in a letter to Ally.
Less than an hour later, exquisitely attired in buff-colored pantaloons and a dark blue coat of Bath superfine, cravat carefully tied in a Mathematical that she had mastered at last, Alex was sauntering along Bond Street, swinging the goldheaded cane which Tony had given her, and trying to unobtrusively study the delicious gewgaws on display. Pausing to examine the decoration on an elegant bonnet, she nearly stumbled over Lord Wrotham, who was just emerging from a shop, a woman on his arm. Somehow Alex had never thought him to be much in the petticoat line, why she could not precisely say. She rather hoped he would be so absorbed in his companion so as not to notice Alex and thus afford her time to take a better look at the woman with him. 143
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It was the vain hope of a minute, for they were upon her before she could move or turn away.
The major halted and nodded at Alex. "Hello, de Montmorency," he exclaimed in friendly fashion. "As you are new to town, I should warn you that if you have anything at all to do with females"—the major glanced sardonically in the direction of his companion—"it is a far greater risk of your blunt to walk along here than it is to bet it at White's." The woman at his side, a vision in an elegant pale blue walking dress that matched her eyes, smiled coquettishly at Alex and then turned to the major. "But, Christopher, you are keeping me in suspense. Who
is
this handsome acquaintance of yours? I do not believe I know him." Much to her annoyance, Alex blushed to the roots of her hair—something her twin would never have done. He abhorred anything female, especially one of as indeterminate an age as this one, who wore a decidedly predatory expression.
A look of resignation settled across the major's tanned countenance. "Very well. Allow me to present you to my mother. Lady Linwood, Countess of Claverdon. Alexander de Montmorency."
The flirtatious smile broadened as the lady peeked at Alex from under the brim of a very youthful bonnet. "Why, I believe I knew your father Alfred. You have the look of him. What a scamp
he
was, ripe for any mischief, that is, until he met your mother.
Then
he became a pattern card of perfection." She sighed romantically. "What a beautiful couple 144
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they made. It was so sad they proceeded to bury themselves in Norfolk or whatever outlandish place it was."
"Norfolk." Alex could not help grinning. How uncomfortable the major was. Why, he was frowning like a veritable thundercloud. Undoubtedly he was escorting her under duress and he looked to be a man who had suffered through this scene on numerous occasions.
"You must call on me," Lady Linwood cooed. "I do so adore the younger set. Everyone of my age has gone to take the waters or is a doting grandmama—horridly dull." As there seemed no chance of his mother's doing so, Alex decided to put the major out of his misery. "That is very kind of you, ma'am. I certainly hope to do so, but now I must be off as I have ... ah ... an appointment that must not be kept waiting." Alex tried to look as self-conscious as possible, hoping to convey the impression that the appointment was with another female and thus dash any designs Lady Linwood might have on Alexander de Montmorency.
Wrotham's mother wagged a gloved finger at Alex.
"Naughty boy. There is no doubt you are your father's son." Alex made good her escape and hurried along as quickly as possible, trying all the while to appear as though searching the street for a certain carriage. Arriving at Piccadilly, she heaved a sigh of relief and stopped to consider her next step. Hatchard's presented an alluring prospect and so she proceeded in a leisurely manner in that general direction, chuckling to herself as she did so.