Corey McFadden (21 page)

Maude, kneeling between them, started to breathe again after she heard Sommesby’s offer rejected, an offer that made marriage to Cousin John seem downright appealing. Radford was welcome to call her fool all night and kick her down the front stairs to boot if he did not hand her over to the Duke of Sommesby!

As Radford had predicted, the game proceeded uneventfully for several hours. Sommesby played a rattlebrained, distracted game, smiling, chatting, having a word for everyone who passed the table, seeming to concentrate on everything but his cards. None of the four had any particular winnings or losses to speak of; the cards had run evenly. Maude continued to fetch “whiskey” for Radford, and was amused when he announced he would need assistance in visiting the loo. He went in by himself, much to her relief. It was fortunate that he had proven to be a private man, not given to requiring attention for these sorts of things.

“How much tea are you putting into that swill, anyway, boy?” he hissed as they made their halting progress back to the table. “I can hardly choke it down as it is, and I can’t be running off to piss like an old woman every hour!”

Maude tried desperately to keep from laughing and wound up snorting through her nose instead. “Just remember how much you need my help the next time the duke asks for my services, my lord, or else I’ll let you sit there and suffer.”

“Not even you would I turn over to that old sod, boy. He makes my skin crawl.” The earl glanced this way and that, nodding pleasantly to acquaintances as he limped through the room. “I can’t wait for this evening to conclude. Do you see how he watches me swill my liquor? And poor Beauchamp. He’s had more than enough to drink, and is enjoying himself too much to realize it. I suspect Willmott will be pushing off soon. Has to get home to bed his bride. They can’t seem to get enough of each other.”

Maude stifled an exasperated look. She was finding that men were very crude among themselves. Actually, to be fair, women talked about the same things. They just cloaked their conversations in euphemisms and protestations of personal innocence.

“I think we can expect His Grace to make his move once George leaves. I don’t think he’ll count me as a problem. He almost had me once before, and I’ve made sure never to play seriously with him since. He thinks I’m drunk, anyway. He may try to fleece two birds this evening instead of one.”

“I think he may have a deck stashed in his boot, the left one, nearest me, my lord. There is a gap at the top between the boot and the leg that does not appear on the other boot.” Maude continued to hold Radford’s arm as they made their way across the floor. They did not look at each other and spoke under their breaths.

“Good boy, very observant. I apologize, by the way, for being so nasty to you. I’ve wanted to make sure he thinks I am edgy and distracted by the pain.”

“That’s all right, my lord. I understand. Although, I must say, I do not relish being called a fool.”

“Ah, that hurt, did it? I feared it would. Well, you are certainly no fool, boy. I shall find some way to make it up to you. Here we are, now. Remember, your part is just beginning. You must be my eyes. You’d best get me another whiskey, but go easy on the tea, please. I’ve a good head for liquor and I’ve a long way to go before I get drunk.”

She gave him just the hint of a wicked look and settled him in his seat.

“Another whiskey, Ramsey,” he said too loudly as he sat. He gave a near foolish grin and looked around the table. “It deadens the pain, you know.” He seemed to focus on Willmott, a little unsteadily. “I must say, old George, I expected you to be long gone, home to the little lady, and all that. She’s a bride, still, you know.” He gave a leering wink to Sommesby, who gave him a supercilious smile in return.

George, unused to taking offense from his good friend, Radford, did not know quite what to make of the remark. Surely Radford would not be so crude as to make a suggestive reference about his wife? No, it must be the pain and liquor talking. George made up his mind to have a sharp word with his friend in the morning, preferably early, while the man’s head was still pounding. Graciously, he took his leave, taking his small winnings with him.

“Well, I’ve no reason to get home early, have you, Beauchamp?” Radford asked, slightly slurring his words. “Give us a few more hands, will you, Your Grace?”

It was all Maude could do to keep from rolling her eyes. Thank heaven she knew this was an act or she would think him a silly sot, indeed.

“Delighted to oblige, Radford. Perhaps my luck will change with young Willmott gone. Such luck as there has been this evening all went to him,” Sommesby remarked.

Maude watched the duke reach for the cards. It was his deal. She fancied she saw his tongue flick out like that of an adder as he began the shuffle.

“Ow! Damn, Ramsey, the thing hurts!” Radford twitched in obvious distress. “See if you can rewrap the bandages. It’s bound too tightly and I can feel my foot swelling.”

Maude knelt down to his foot and began an absent-minded fiddling with the wrappings. She had a perfect eye-level view of the table while she appeared to be bent over the earl’s foot. The duke continued his amiable shuffle, chatting all the time. He set the deck down for Beauchamp to cut, then picked up the two halves and placed them together. So far she had seen nothing in his card handling to raise her suspicions.

“Ha! There! Look, it’s old Wetherford. I thought he’d succumbed to the influenza.” Sommesby’s voice rang out excitedly and he raised his right hand in an extravagant wave. Radford and Beauchamp obligingly turned to the door, where doddering old Wetherford, oblivious to the stir he’d caused, made his way in.

And there it was, as plain as day, if one happened to be looking, which Maude was. At the very second when the men had turned their attention to the door, Sommesby’s left hand had dropped the deck he’d shuffled into his crotch, and dipped swiftly into the left boot, retrieving another, identical deck. He shifted just slightly so that the first deck was swallowed by his thighs, and started his deal with an easy nonchalance.

Maude sat for a second, surprised that such an amateurish trick could be so effective. But, of course, look at the two drunks he thought he was playing against. Maude doubted whether the earl, who knew what to look for, had been in a position to notice a thing. No one else in the room was paying the slightest attention, all intent on their own games and social mingling.

As unobtrusively as possible, she traced an X on the earl’s leg with her finger, their signal for a switched deck. He acknowledged the gesture with a hand on her shoulder, as if he were resettling his position in his chair and using her as a brace. She knew he would let this round play out, regardless of the switch, since it would take a number of hands for actual losses to mount up and he would need more evidence for a confrontation.

* * * *

Indeed, it appeared that Lady Luck had finally turned her attentions to the duke. Maude was finding it remarkably easy to pay close attention to the card play and the repartee, invisible as she seemed to be. The duke was blessed with a remarkably fine hand, and tittered delightedly when he won easily. Beauchamp was drunkenly magnanimous, waving away the pile of chips with a smile of good fellowship. Radford apparently could not bring himself to be pleasant, concentrating instead on his glass of whiskey. Maude had ignored his request for less tea, as Radford must have had known she would.

“Gentlemen, perhaps you would excuse me for a few minutes?” The duke was unctuous and simpering. “I find myself in need of a brief respite.”

He stood and took himself off in the direction of the loo. Beauchamp availed himself of the opportunity as well and left the table, trailing behind the duke.

“Good,” said Radford, under his breath to Maude. “Get down here and act as if you’re attending to my leg.” He bent over, as if to discuss his foot. “Has he gone off to tamper with the first deck? I don’t see any sign of it.” He spoke in a near-whisper, although there was no one close by.

“I would think so, my lord. It is no longer on the chair where he stashed it. Also, I suspect he has another deck hidden on him, possibly in his shirt. With two phony decks, he can keep this up for a good while. And he is being far more methodical than you might think, considering all that inane chatter, with how he takes his tricks. I saw two high cards go up his sleeve in that last round. I’ll signal you when I see him draw them out. He will most likely substitute them for cards in his own hand, later, when he has no further opportunity to deal an arranged deck. It is so much easier, now that you have only three players and are no longer playing whist. Since the whole deck is not dealt at any one time, he can play with his hand as he wishes.”

Radford grunted in understanding. “I shall call a halt to this farce soon. I have no intention of sitting here and letting him take us both for a small fortune while the evidence mounts. Let him try his tricks just a few more times, then I shall feel that I am well enough armed to face him down. And you will not forget your promise to vanish when I tell you to, will you, boy?”

“My lord...” she gave him an imploring glance.

“A promise is a promise, monkey. You must trust me. His Grace is not a danger to me. He will not dare face me in a duel. I am known as a superb shot, and he will not care for the alternative, which is public exposure. This time it is I who am holding the high cards.” He smiled, obviously relishing the coming confrontation. ‘They are coming back. I think I shall yell at you again. I find I quite enjoy it.”

Maude grinned at him under the table, then stood, looking slightly sullen.

Radford straightened up, muttering “Clumsy oaf!” just loud enough for the duke to hear as he resumed his seat.

“Sure you won’t change your mind and let me take the boy off your hands, Radford?” he asked.

“No, I shall make something of him yet,” Radford growled, seizing his glass and draining it.

Maude watched with interest as Sommesby picked up the deck he had left on the table and began to deal. It was not the duke’s deal, nor had that deck been properly shuffled. She was sure Radford had noticed, even though he appeared to be intent on a conversation Beauchamp was having with a chap who had passed by the table. A clever little bit of trickery, and no doubt the duke’s high cards from the last hand were on the bottom, right where he had left them.

There! A card from the bottom of the deck into the duke’s pile as pretty as you please while Beauchamp nattered on, looking in the other direction, and Radford played the sot. Maude watched as another card came off the bottom into Sommesby’s own hand, then she knelt as if to see to the earl’s foot. Quickly, she traced two circles on his leg, and felt the pressure of his hand in response on her shoulder. She traced a third circle as she watched another card come off the bottom. She had a perfect view of the table from where she knelt, and apparently the duke had so little regard for what Radford’s incompetent servant was doing that he did not fear being seen.

“Leave it, Ramsey, it’s better now,” Radford muttered when the dealing was complete. “Get me another whiskey.”

When Maude returned a few minutes later, Sommesby had just won a tidy sum. Radford threw her a grim smile as she approached. He was fidgeting and impatient. It was clearly time.

* * * *

As Sommesby pulled in his chips, chattering and laughing delightedly about his run of luck, Radford pulled the scattered cards toward him. “I believe it’s time to end this little game, my lord,” he said to the duke. “Beauchamp, I am sorry to discommode you, but I want a word with Sommesby. Perhaps we can play again some other time?” Gathering up the cards into a pile and placing them out of the reach of the duke, Radford smiled pleasantly at Beauchamp, ignoring the gasps and sputters coming from Sommesby’s direction.

“Oh, that’s quite all right, Radford. I think my luck was taking a decided turn for the worse anyway.” Beauchamp waved his hand airily as he stood to leave. “Lord Sommesby, my congratulations on the last few hands. You’ve...” Beauchamp halted, clearly surprised by the look of rage on Sommesby’s face, directed toward the earl. Radford waved Beauchamp away, smiling benignly, as if to say, “don’t worry about a thing.” Beauchamp ambled away, looking rather confused.

“What the devil do you mean, Radford, stopping the game like that!” Sommesby was literally sputtering, he was so furious. “You know perfectly well I was finally having a run of good luck. I have half a mind to report you to the membership committee!”

Radford smiled coldly. “Your ‘good luck’ is precisely what I wish to discuss with you. Your Grace. I believe it will be more comfortable for us to speak alone. I must insist on your joining me in one of the private rooms.” He made ready to rise.

“I shall do no such thing! I have nothing to say to you. Nothing whatsoever!” Sommesby rose, white-faced and shaking with anger, and pushed back his chair, only to be stopped by the earl’s hand on the lace of his left sleeve.

“But I have a great deal to say to you, Your Grace. And if you do not wish a scene, you will attend me.” With a lightning flick of his wrist, Radford reached into the duke’s sleeve and retrieved two cards, both kings.

“What? How dare you? Where did those come from? If you are trying to make me look like a cheat....”

“Enough! You will come with me now. If you are very smart, we will walk amiably together so as not to cause comment. It is not I who care, however.” Radford stood, keeping hold of the duke’s arm and propelling him away from the table.

“Ramsey, you will wait for me at the front entrance,” Radford threw over his shoulder.

The two moved toward the door. Sommesby cast a bitter look at Radford’s foot, aware that the earl was walking with absolutely no difficulty.

Radford cast a quick look back at the boy as he and Sommesby made their progress. Mike stood, watching their retreating backs, ashen with fear. Radford feared for a moment the boy would forget his promise and run behind them, but, like the good servant he was, he turned and made his way to the entrance to wait for his lordship.