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son's arm that she was not the sort to let him out of her sight unless she was provided with a more attractive male escort. Alex had seen her type before, even in the backwater of Norfolk—a clinger if there ever was one, and a woman to whom male attention and admiration were the very breath of her existence. Her son did not appear to relish the role she had cut out for him.
Women seemed to be the order of the day, for when Alex returned to her rooms sometime later, she was greeted by a jubilant Tony. He was fairly bursting with his news. "It's happened, Alex," Tony exclaimed joyfully. "I have met her!"
"Her?" Alex's mind could bring up nothing but a complete blank.
"Yes, you know." Tony glanced at his sister curiously. Ordinarily she was most clever, but now she was staring at him as vacantly as though she had not even been present when he'd first seen the most beautiful girl in the world. What other
her
could he possibly mean? "The girl on the horse." He sighed ecstatically. "The girl we saw riding in the park." Alex was quick to recover from her momentary lapse.
"How wonderful! Tell me what happened." That was all the urging her brother needed and he launched into his tale. He, being far more accustomed to riotous living than his sister, had been up betimes this morning as usual and went out for a ride before duty. It was then he saw her again and he cursed himself for a fool for not having followed up on his sister's suggestion and sending his batman out to exercise Caesar and strike up a conversation with her groom. However, fate seemed to have taken a 146
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particular shine to Captain de Montmorency that day, for while he sat there cursing his lack of forethought, a pug that had been straining at a leash held by a thoroughly bored footman broke free and dashed in the girl's direction yapping excitedly. The young lady's horse had taken instant exception to the nasty animal and bolted.
"And naturally you rushed to her aid," his sister concluded.
"What could be more likely to win a girl's heart than to be rescued by a dashing captain of the Guards?"
"Her name"—Tony sighed reverently—"her name is Lucinda Addington and she is here to make her come-out, though in general she much prefers the country to the town. She is the sweetest ... well that is to say I think you and Ally would quite like her. She has younger brothers of her own whom she misses as much as she does her country rides." Tony was silent for a moment, lost in blissful contemplation of this stroke of good fortune. Then, struck by a sudden thought, he turned to his sister.
"She asked if I might perhaps be going to the Carstairs'
ball. Lord, I don't know. I never attend those things, but when I said that I might possibly do so, she asked, very modestly mind you, if it would put me out to escort her and her mama. Apparently her papa has been called back to Berkshire on some urgent problem at home. You might have knocked me over with a feather when she asked, for I feel certain that an incomparable such as she must have the fellows falling all over themselves to do the least little thing for her." Tony beamed happily.
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His sister smiled. "Perhaps, but I know no one could be as kind or as gentlemanly an escort as you. Tony. Of that I am certain."
A cloud descended over her brother's beatific countenance.
"But what about you, Alex? As we left White's last evening I heard Knightley mention something to someone about taking you on. Now
there's
a pigeon worth plucking. They say he never plays if the stakes are less than ten thousand, and no one except General Scott ever beats him. You'll need me there if he approaches you tonight."
"Don't be so old womanish, brother dear, I shall ask Wrotham to accompany me. He knows what to do well enough, having observed us so carefully from the moment we began our campaign." Alex spoke with more confidence than she felt, but she was determined to give her brother his chance with the woman of his dreams. Tony was a dear and he deserved all the happiness he could get. If it had not been for his support and the little bit of money he had been able to send them at Halewood from time to time, she did not know how she would have managed. Besides, it looked as though Hale-wood would soon be requiring a new master and an estate as vast as theirs would need a mistress. Of course, she could continue managing Halewood as she had for Alexander, but Bonaparte could not last forever and faced by inaction. Tony would undoubtedly sell out and come home. He had spoken more than once, rather wistfully, of raising horses as his friend Rokeby did. From the little Alex had seen and heard of Lucinda Addington, the girl seemed to be far more the sort of person to help Tony run the estate 148
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than any other young miss he was likely to meet in London. A teasing smile quirked the corners of Alex's mouth. "You escort Lucinda and her mother. Any woman who can convince you to attend a ball must be a rare woman indeed." Tony grinned. "Oh she most certainly is, but you are more important at the moment and I..."
Alex raised an admonitory hand. "Hush. I shall hear no more of it. It will look better if I go on my own every once in a while, else people might begin to wonder what we are about if we are always seen together."
Though she put a brave front on it for her brother's sake, Alex was more than a little nervous when she entered the crowded gaming room at White's all on her own that evening. However, General Scott, on his way to a table, greeted her with a, "Hello my lad. Hear you have not been putting your father to shame"; and several other members nodded to her in a reassuringly friendly fashion. Alex acknowledged their greetings and then, trying not to appear as anxious as she felt, scanned the room, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Wrotham's familiar broad-shouldered figure. The major, idly watching a group hazarding their fortunes on the cast of the dice, had been aware of Alex's presence the moment the youth appeared. There was something about de Montmorency, Christopher decided as he strolled over to meet Alex, that set him apart from others, at least when he was not playing at the role of careless gamester. It was not physical presence, for though he was a little above-average height, he was slender. Nor did he have any other outstanding features. It was more a matter of the way he 149
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carried himself. There was an energy about him, and the selfpossessed air of a man who knew what he was about, a man accustomed to thinking and acting for himself instead of slavishly following the whim of fashion.
"Hello," he greeted Alex, smiling. "What have you done with your shadow?"
"Tony? He is accompanying a certain lady and her mother to the Carstairs' ball."
A gleam of amusement lit the dark blue eyes. "Then I say, prepare yourself for his absence in the future, for in my experience, when a lad like Tony even notices something besides pistols, sabers, or horses, he is more than halfway to being caught in the parson's mousetrap. But come along. I want to introduce you to someone who can help you attain your goal." With an encouraging wink, he led Alex to a table where a tall, rather cadaverous man sat languidly riffling a pack of cards and trading witticisms with a group of young bucks who seemed to hang on his every word.
"Hello, Knightley." Wrotham laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "I have someone here you might like to meet. You may have seen de Montmorency cleaning out the pockets of his opponents. Knowing you as a man who likes a challenge and him as a man who can offer one, I thought you two should become acquainted."
Surveying Alex with glittering dark eyes, the thin man nodded ever-so slightly and gestured to a chair. "So you think you can beat me, do you?" The languid air had disappeared entirely and the long fingers which had been idly playing with the cards suddenly clenched around the pack. 150
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"No, sir." Alex struggled to mask the hesitancy in her voice. She took a deep breath. "I am merely looking for a decent game." She broadened her casual drawl. "It is rather more dull here than I had hoped. Somehow I had expected that here in London..." she allowed herself to trail off as she pulled out the chair indicated and sat down.
"Then you have come to the right place. Mind you, the first time I play with someone, I only play one partie and the stakes are ten thousand. After that, I shall see." Alex swallowed hard and nodded in as offhand a way as she could muster. Having listened to her father's stories countless times, she was able to recognize a hardened gamester when she saw one. Everything about Sir Derek Knightley, from me pale, hollow cheeks, to the intense gaze and the nervous fingers all indicated a man who lived for games of chance.
Well, Alex comforted herself, after all, you took on one of the world's most confirmed gamblers night after night after night at Halewood so this should be nothing new or different Surely Knightley can be no worse than Papa was at one time. Once you convince him that you are worth the trouble you will have your pick of players, so go to it. Without further ado she accepted the cards being dealt her.
Just at that moment, Alex felt the back of her chair shift ever so slightly. Without even turning around, she knew that Wrotham had laid a hand on it and was gripping it as tensely as she was twisting her ankles around each other under the table. Somehow just knowing that he was there was infinitely 151
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comforting to her and it gave her courage to look at the cards in her hand.
Once she had seen them, she was able to concentrate on the matter at hand and push all her other fears into the background. Fortunately for her nerves, she was able to win the first deal, but, she cautioned herself, that was to be expected, the dealer always being at a slight disadvantage. Still, it was better than having lost. Courage, Alex, she muttered to herself as she took her turn dealing. There was a reassuring creak from the back of her chair and she knew that she was not alone in her anticipation of the next deal. From then on, absolute silence reigned except for an occasional "Good" or "Tierce." To both Alex and the silent observer behind her, the game seemed endless, but slowly, ever-so slowly Alex gained the advantage until at last, unbelievably, the man opposite laid down his cards with a curt nod remarking, "Fine match, de Montmorency. I believe I shall be willing to consider you as an opponent or as a partner." And with that, he was gone, leaving Alex to sag limply in her chair.
"Had enough, or are you now ready to take on the entire club, you young fire-eater?" a voice inquired behind her. Wrotham! In the concentration of the last deal Alex had completely forgotten him. She turned now to see the blue eyes twinkling down at her. But there was something else there as well—an expression that Alex could not fathom at first. Then she realized that it was respect, a most novel reaction to her and an exceedingly gratifying one. To think that men, even those less worthy of respect than she was, 152
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received such recognition as a matter of course while she, as a woman, had never experienced such a thing made her envy her brother—not that Alexander would ever have earned it or even wanted something that she had longed for. Alex shook her head. "Actually, I think I have had enough for one night. I believe I shall toddle along. The fresh air will do me good." She made for the door and the major followed. Drat! The man seemed disposed to accompany her. How very awkward, but there was nothing for it except to let him.
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The door had barely shut behind them when the major clapped Alex on the back. "Good show, de Montmorency!
Devilish good show. Knightley does not take kindly to being beaten, but it will only serve to whet his appetite the more. Why, next time you ought to be able to demand fifty thousand a game."
"Surely not," Alex demurred. "Besides, I can't risk that much, nor can I be assured of walking away a winner. Tonight was a very near thing."
"Nonsense, you had him from the moment the cards were dealt."
"Perhaps," she conceded. "But still, it was a good deal nearer a thing than I am comfortable with."
"Stuff and nonsense. You are far too modest. But come, join me in my chambers. Radlett will make us some punch and you will tell me how the devil you managed it. There were several deals when I could not see how you knew to proceed."
"Ah." Alex grinned. "That would be telling, wouldn't it. And what if I wish to beat you again sometime?" The major chuckled and they strolled along for some time in companionable silence.
As they rounded the corner onto Piccadilly, three dark shapes detached themselves from the shadows. The ruffians lying in wait for dandies flush with wine and winnings from the table had not counted on their quarry appearing so early 154
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in the evening. Grinning at each other, the two largest pounced on their unwary prey while the third remained out of sight until his assistance was needed.
Taken completely unawares, Wrotham was momentarily thrown off balance by the attack and it took him some minutes to recover. As it was his assailant who had led the offense, Alex had a moment's warning before hers was upon her and was able to grab her walking stick and lay it about. The heavy gold head applied energetically to her attacker's knees, though not very good science, was effective. In the meantime, the major had managed to assume a more advantageous stance and delivered a bruising right to his opponent's jaw. The fellow staggered a moment, shook his head, and came charging like a wounded bull at Christopher. He was a brute of a man, taller than the major by several inches and outweighing him by at least two or three stone, but Wrotham, known throughout his regiment for his pugilistic skill, stepped lightly aside, throwing the man off balance, which allowed him to deliver another punishing blow. The thief was stopped dead in his tracks. A look of astonishment came over his face and he toppled over like a brick wall.