Good Earl Gone Bad (9 page)

A little disappointed that he hadn't objected, she turned and slipped out of the room. If she wasn't mistaken, she heard him laughing as she went.

 

Six

Later that evening, after a few fruitless searches for Upperton in the lesser-known gaming houses of London, Jasper, accompanied by the Duke of Trent, finally ran him to ground in the back room of one of the more exclusive hells where only the most skilled of players were allowed in.

He'd been restless after his encounter with Hermione, and as he watched her dance through the Comerford ballroom with other men, he found himself thinking back to their conversation with her father. He'd been completely unrepentant about losing her horses.

Setting aside what he'd heard Lord Payne and his henchmen discussing with regard to Hermione's grays, and the possibility that the horses might have been taken from her whether Lord Upperton gambled them away or not, there was still the fact that her father had taken something that didn't belong to him and all but given them away.

It was bad cricket. And though he was not in any way tied to Lady Hermione Upperton, Jasper felt a need to see her father pay. And the easiest way he had to do that was to engage the man in a game of cards. It was, after all, something that Jasper was better at than anyone he'd ever met. And he'd met a lot of cardplayers in his day.

Lord Upperton was playing four-handed whist with three men Jasper knew from around town. Not wanting to alert their quarry to their hunt for him, Jasper and Trent took up positions at a nearby vingt-et-un table where they could keep an eye on Hermione's father from afar while appearing to watch the play at their own table.

When it looked as if the play at the whist table was winding down, Jasper exchanged a meaningful glance with Trent and wandered over to where Upperton was counting his winnings.

“Having a run of luck, Upperton?” he asked the older man, infusing his tone with only mild curiosity, not wanting to scare him off.

He'd thought Upperton might take against him thanks to the fact that he'd come to Hermione's defense earlier that evening, but to his surprise, the older man did not appear to remember it.

Hermione's father grinned, thumbing through the stack of coins and vowels before him. “Indeed I am. Indeed I am. Can I interest you in a game?”

“I'm not here to play, Upperton,” said Jasper sharply. “I'm here to discuss your daughter.”

At that, the other man looked wary. “Why? Don't think I didn't see you sniffing around her skirts tonight. If you want her it will cost you.”

Jasper hadn't thought Upperton could compound his other faults with further crimes against his daughter, but he'd been wrong. Not one to let a chance to get some extra funds pass him by, Hermione's father clearly saw Jasper's interest in her as the potential for engineering a windfall.

But, as much as the notion of playing into Upperton's slimy hands bothered him, it was the thought of emancipating Hermione from that grip that gave Jasper pause.

What
if
he were to offer for her? She'd no longer be beholden to the whims of a man who had no compunction about gaming away her belongings. And God knew he'd be a more benevolent husband than Upperton was a father.

Trent, who up till now had merely stood behind Jasper like a bodyguard, spoke up. “I really think you should consider speaking of this matter in private, my lord. For your daughter's reputation if not your own.”

It was clear that Upperton didn't want to lose his place at the table, but in the face of two younger, stronger men scowling at him, he did the smart thing and shoved his winnings into his purse and rose to follow them.

Once they were in a small room reserved for private games, he found a bottle of claret on a sideboard and poured himself a generous glass, not bothering to offer any to his interlocutors. “Well, what is it, then? What's she done now? The chit has caused me nothing but grief ever since her mother died when she was a child. I should have sent her to live at the estate in the country but foolishly thought she'd be happier in town.”

Disgusted by the man's attitude toward his own daughter, Jasper folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to keep from putting hands on him. “It's going to be difficult to convince me that you had anything but your own best interests in mind when you made the decision to keep her in London, my lord.”

“Oh, come, boy,” said Lord Upperton with a flash of annoyance. “You know nothing of what it is to care for a daughter. Especially one as headstrong as my Hermione. I daresay half of what she's told you about me is lies. You know how ladies are.”

“No,” Jasper said, his tone quiet with menace. “How are they?”

At that, Upperton blanched. “Now see here. I won't be lectured to about how I care for my own daughter by the likes of you. So say your piece and leave me be.”

“You've a game to play, do you?” Trent asked conversationally.

“I do,” said Upperton haughtily. “So, if you'll excuse me.”

Jasper gripped the other man by the arm before he could leave. “I have a proposition for you, Upperton.”

He felt Trent's questioning gaze on him, but ignored it.

“I will play one hand with you. Winner takes all.”

He couldn't fail to note the gleam of avarice in Upperton's blue eyes, so like his daughter's with that small exception.

“I saw you staring at my winnings the moment you entered the room,” the older man said with a grin.

“It's not your purse I'm interested in,” Jasper said sharply, even as he moved to open the door and usher his opponent into the card room beyond.

As they took their seats at an empty table, Upperton called for a new deck, and took a great gulp of his claret. “Just the game you're interested in, eh?” he asked, upending his pouch of coins onto the surface of the table.

“Not exactly,” Jasper said in a low voice. He leaned across the table so that only Upperton and Trent, who had taken another seat at the table, could hear. “I would like to play for your daughter's hand.”

He watched with amusement as disbelief shone from Upperton's gaze. Trent was silent, but looked troubled.

“You're joking,” Upperton said with a shake of his head. “I'll give her to you, boy, for the right price.”

“I have no wish to
purchase
her,” Jasper said through clenched teeth. “But I find myself of the opinion that you should no longer be in a position to control her life. And since you seem to be of the opinion that you are quite good at the tables, I should like to see if you are so good that you can keep from losing the last thing of value you possess.”

He watched as Lord Upperton's nostrils flared at his words. He had little doubt that if the time came when Hermione's father found himself without another penny to wager with, he'd barely flinch at placing her hand in marriage upon the table. Indeed, he was very likely saving Hermione from marriage to any one of the other men who sat at other tables in this room, their eyes bloodshot, concentration on the cards they held before them.

“You think you're so high-and-mighty, Mainwaring,” said Upperton through clenched teeth. “I'd like to see you try to win against me. You might be good at amateur play, but I've been at the tables since long before you were even born. And I'll not be beaten by the likes of you. I'll sell her to the highest bidder, too, just to spite you.”

If there had been any doubt that Lord Upperton was a venal, heartless man, his threat to auction off his daughter put paid to it.

Any hesitation Jasper felt about his course of action evaporated. “Then by all means,” he said with a grim smile. “Let us play.”

“Mainwaring,” hissed Trent, “do you know what you're doing?”

Jasper saw the concern in his friend's gaze, but ignored it. “I'm certain, old fellow. Quite certain.”

It looked as if Trent might want to argue, but to Mainwaring's relief, he didn't. Just as well, because Jasper wasn't certain he'd be able to withstand a voice of reason. And somewhere deep in his primitive brain, he didn't want to be dissuaded from this course of action.

The naked truth of it was that he wanted Hermione, and as he'd suspected, her father would not hesitate to wager her hand should he feel it necessary. And Jasper was damned if he'd allow the whims of that madman to endanger his own ability to have her.

The game itself was laughably brief. Two-handed whist, which concluded with Jasper winning by the comfortable margin of four tricks.

And as he might have expected, Upperton was sanguine about his loss.

“I thought for sure I'd be able to do it, but damned if you aren't as good as they say,” said Hermione's father with something like admiration. “You'll have to teach me how you do it.”

“It's not something that can be taught, I'm afraid,” Jasper said with a shake of his head.

“Even so,” Upperton said with a laugh, “you're a member of the family now. So I'll be able to watch you at play any time I like.”

At the mention of family, Jasper blinked. As he often did, he'd gone so far into the zone of play that he'd not even remembered what it was they were playing for.

Trent, however, had not forgot. He clapped Jasper on the shoulder. “Congratulations, old fellow,” he said with a grin. “I believe you've just won yourself a bride.”

And as he looked around, Jasper realized that they had not been so inconspicuous as he'd at first thought. One by one the other gamblers in the room came forward to offer their congratulations.

Damn it, he thought to himself. Hermione was going to be furious.

*   *   *

“I am all for the occasional bit of convention-flouting, Hermione,” Miss Ophelia Dauntry said the next morning as she climbed into the closed Lisle carriage where Hermione and Leonora waited for her, “but are you quite sure this is the way to go about getting your horses back?”

“Do not be missish, Ophelia,” said Hermione firmly. “We all agreed last evening that a conversation with Lord Saintcrow is the only way to convince him to give my grays back. And if there are three of us to persuade him that will only mean the odds are in our favor.”

She had not told her friends about the conversation she'd overheard last evening between Lord Payne and his lieutenants in the Lords of Anarchy, but that was partly because she didn't wish to reveal that she'd been with Mainwaring when it had happened. They'd quickly pounce on the fact that she'd been in a closed chamber with a handsome man and completely ignore the fact that Lord Payne had all but admitted that he was intent upon getting her horses from Lord Saintcrow.

It was an odd situation, to be sure, but one that would be quickly rectified once she got the horses back from Lord Saintcrow. Horses changing hands one time was unobjectionable, but the same pair being stolen from their owner twice in the space of a week would be far too suspicious for a man as sensible as Lord Payne to risk.

“One prying eye could ruin us,” Ophelia said with a shake of her head. “Do you understand that? You might not care about your marriageability, but I care about mine.”

Hermione knew that her friend dreamed of a love match—something that would be the polar opposite of her parents' marriage, which was acrimonious to say the least. And a love match could only be achieved if she were able to meet as many eligible gentlemen as possible. Something she could not do if she were removed from the marriage mart by scandal.

“I will understand if you wish to go back,” Hermione said turning to face her. “I asked you solely because I knew if I didn't you'd rip up at me. But there is no need for us both to ruin our reputations. I haven't a care for mine. With the exception of the fact that it might harm my membership in the Lords of Anarchy. But that will make little difference if I haven't got horses to drive.”

“And I'm an old married lady now,” Leonora interjected, “so I cannot be ruined. Not in that way, at any rate.”

“You know I would not have come if I didn't wish it,” Ophelia said, waving off their concerns. “I was merely pointing out the gravity of our mission. Though I do wonder if it might be easier to simply have your man of business who purchased the horses for you show Lord Saintcrow the bill of sale. It will say nothing about your father, which will prove that they belong to you.”

But Hermione had already considered that. “If I thought he would simply take Mr. Wingate's word, I would have done exactly as you suggest. But Lord Saintcrow made it perfectly clear in the park yesterday that he doesn't care who the horses belonged to—me or Papa. He was determined to believe that they are now his, Fee. He was unbending. He won the game with my father and in his mind that's the end of it.”

“Men are such irrational creatures, are they not?” Leonora asked with a sigh. “Even when what you tell them is eminently logical, they behave as if because we're ladies we must of a necessity be speaking rubbish. It really is most annoying.”

“Are you speaking of Freddy?” Hermione asked, momentarily diverted. “I thought he was one of the good ones!”

Leonora laughed. “Oh, he is. But that doesn't mean he's not just as foolish as the rest of them from time to time. He is convinced that simply because I am with child that—”

The interior of the carriage exploded with squeals.

“My ears!” Leonora said, clapping her hands over her wounded appendages.

“You're going to have a baby!” Ophelia said, hugging her friend. “That's marvelous news!”

“Why didn't you tell us first thing?” Hermione demanded. “And more importantly, why on earth are you here with us on this fool's errand? If anything happens to you Freddy will kill us all.”

“I should hope he would refrain from killing me at the very least,” Leonora said wryly. “I am after all carrying his child.”