Patricia Rice (3 page)

Merrick studied the large stack of markers before the
pompous gambler facing them. Cassandra answered his question before he could
phrase it.

“Norton fleeces every youngster who comes through that door.
He takes pride in it. He thinks he is teaching them a valuable lesson,” she
whispered.

“Since Thomas has only just received his quarterly
allowance, it will be a rather expensive lesson. With five boys, his parents do
not have much extra to spare.”

His tart words had scarcely left his mouth before Merrick
realized Cassandra had slipped from his side. In horror, he watched as the
gambler called Norton looked up with a paternal smile and gallantly gestured
her toward an empty chair. The earl developed a sudden leaden feeling in his
stomach, but he worked his way around to stand behind her.

“Cassandra, I cannot approve of this,” he murmured, as she
reached for the cards she was dealt. It was all he could do to prevent his own
gaze from seeking her generous cleavage. Every man in here had to be watching.

“Fustian, Merrick. I’ve been playing with Norton since I was
naught but a schoolgirl. He doesn’t mind at all, do you?” She sent a sunny
smile in the portly man’s direction.

“Of course not, Lady Cassie. You are an astute student of
Lady Luck. Have a seat, my lord. We’re all friends here.”

Merrick caught Thomas’ bleak gaze and shook his head. “I’m
no hand at cards. I’ll just watch if you don’t mind.” He gave the lad a warning
frown and then posed to wait for the final fiasco. It was a hard way for the
boy to learn, but he couldn’t pull him out of the fire now. Merrick knew the
rules of the game but little more. He would just watch and make certain nothing
more was wagered than the few coins left upon the table.

Cassandra began an idle chatter about the prizefight as she
nonchalantly held her cards. When she wished to place a wager, she held her
palm up and wiggled her fingers at him. Bemused, Merrick obligingly placed a
gold guinea there. She sent him a wary glance at the sum, but carelessly threw
it in the pot as if it wouldn’t pay a half year’s wages for the lady’s maid she
probably didn’t have.

Young Thomas seemed to sink even lower in his seat as
Cassandra’s casual aplomb took over the table. She laughed. She teased. She
scolded and folded her cards and held out her hand for another coin. All
attention focused on her and away from the boy, whose entire quarterly
allowance had dwindled to a single silver coin.

To his amazement, Merrick watched Thomas’ fortune begin to
change as soon as Cassandra won the deal. The coins came slowly at first,
disappearing one at a time from the other men at the table. None noticed his
small change of fortune in the shadow of the more spectacular winnings of the
amazed lady. She laughed with incredulity as the huge pot came her way, and
generously offered to split it with everyone. The men at the table grumbled
good-naturedly. One dropped out. Norton gave her a wary look, but comfortable
behind his still-considerable winnings, he shook his head.

“Your brother should have your luck, my lady. I’m glad you
don’t play often.”

A dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. “You’re just
jealous because I’m prettier than you are tonight. Shall I let you have the
cards back?”

Ruffled at the insinuation that she was manipulating the
deck better than he, the older man made a negative grumble. “Nay, child, let
the boy try his hand. He has a few coins yet to share.”

Merrick listened in amazement to the nuances of this
exchange. He was nearing thirty years of age, had come into his title almost a
score of years ago, and had considerable experience with the fashionable world.
True, his tastes had never run to the seamier side of London. His
responsibilities seldom left him time to indulge in the vices, but that wasn’t
to say he hadn’t tried them. He knew perfectly well that somehow Cassandra was
cheating. What he didn’t understand was the fact that the gambler knew it too
and didn’t complain.

Of course, if he delved into it further, he’d have to
question why and how a gently bred lady knew how to cheat, or what she was
doing here in the first place. But these were questions better left to another
time. She would scarcely appreciate being questioned on the matter in front of
others.

Even with Thomas dealing, the coins in front of Cassandra
continued to grow. She laughed with the guilelessness of a child, made gold
coin houses with the stacks in front of her, and generously lent Thomas what he
needed to make his wager against the rapidly climbing odds she and Norton were
constructing. Another player dropped out, but under the sharp eye of the earl,
Thomas rebelliously stayed in the game.

Deciding Cassandra had quite aptly proved her point,
although his friend’s younger brother hadn’t seen it yet, Merrick brought an
authoritative hand down on the shoulders of both youngsters when it became Cass’s
turn to deal again. “I’m quite bored with this pastime, my lady, Thomas. Bid
your friends farewell and let us find more amusement elsewhere.”

Norton looked relieved and hastily retrieved the deck from
Cassandra’s grasping fingers. Cass gave Merrick a sharp look of annoyance and
disgust, and Thomas appeared wary as he obediently rose.

Polite murmurs of farewell were made, and remembering
Cassandra’s earlier pantomime of what happened when she added coins to her
pocket, Merrick hastily scooped up her winnings in his handkerchief, knotting
it securely. Her triumph hadn’t exactly made her happy, the earl noted as he
caught a glimpse of shadowed blue eyes before she turned away from him, but a
wild shout near the door kept him from pondering this discovery.

“Millstone won! A knockout in three rounds! Hand it over, my
boys, I’m going to be a rich man!”

Merrick couldn’t see the bearer of these tidings, but he
could see Cassandra’s creamy complexion pale another shade whiter. He fingered
the bundle of coins in his hand thoughtfully but pretended he hadn’t observed
her distraction when she pasted a lovely smile on her lips and took his arm.

“Well, my lord, I trust you wagered on the right man.
Millstone has become quite a favorite, hasn’t he?” She gaily acknowledged the
triumphant wave of several men holding wads of paper in their raised fists to
show her their winnings. Mugs clanked throughout the room as the winners raised
their elbows in tribute to the favorite.

One penguin-shaped old gent waddled up and bussed Cassandra
neatly on the cheek and pressed a coin in her hand. “Here’s for yer tip, lass.
Ye’re a good gel.” He gave Merrick a leery look. “Ye take care o’ the lass or
ye’ll be hearin’ from the likes of Timothy O’Leary.”

Merrick hid his pained expression and hurried to usher the
two youngsters through the riotous scene. Men jumped on tables and waved
bottles while others cursed and flung empty mugs at the walls or the winners. A
fistfight broke out in a far corner, and Merrick felt Cassandra step a little
more quickly toward the door. He caught her shoulder and pushed her in front of
him and gestured Thomas to protect her with his back. In a narrow phalanx they
hastened through the growing tumult.

They hurried down the narrow back alley to the wider street,
where the carriage waited. The riot inside the gambling hell hadn’t reached the
square yet, but the thick silence was almost as unnerving. Merrick cursed at
finding himself shepherd to two lambs in this wolf den, but grimly he told
himself they had found their way here on their own and deserved a good fright.

Unfortunately, fear didn’t seem to be uppermost in their
minds as they climbed into the landau. Cassandra again bounced joyfully on the
cushioned seat and Thomas grinned unabashedly at her.

“I say, you were bang up to all the tricks back there. You
must teach me how to play like that. Did you really know Millstone was going to
win? Dash it all, if I’d only met you earlier, I wouldn’t be looking down the
River Tick now.”

“Thomas, you’re a rag-mannered young slowtop and when you’re
done rusticating the next quarter you won’t be so eager to repeat tonight’s
performance.” Merrick threw himself down beside Cassandra in a decidedly
dampening manner. Both youngsters gave him wary looks. “I’m taking you both
home and washing my hands of the two of you. If your families can’t teach you
common sense, I don’t intend to try.”

Chagrined, Thomas sank into silence. Cassandra coolly held
out her palm. “My winnings, my lord.”

He studied the nearly translucent illumination of her face
in the dim interior, but blue eyes behind gilded lashes gave no hint of thought
or emotion. He drew the bundle from his pocket and placed it on her palm. “I
don’t believe my young friend here realizes how you won it,” he admonished.

Merrick thought he detected a flinch but she responded with
one of those brilliant smiles he had learned not to trust.

“I am certain you will explain it to him with time.” She
turned her taunting gaze to Thomas. “How much did you lose to Norton tonight?”

Thomas looked at them with puzzlement, apparently aware of
Merrick’s disapproval and Cassandra’s defiance. He turned his solicitous glance
to the fire goddess of fate. “You need not concern yourself over my losses, my
lady. I shall scrape along well enough. I congratulate you on how well you
played.”

To Merrick’s amazement, a thundercloud formed across the sun
of Cassandra’s expression. She ripped open the handkerchief in her lap and
spilled open the mountain of coins.

“Merrick, how much did I steal from him? Name a fair sum. I
would not take candy from babes.”

Young Thomas looked astounded, then wounded, but Merrick
named a sum that emptied nearly half the coins from her lap after she leaned
over and poured them across the lad’s thighs. Merrick was hard pressed to keep
a straight face at the boy’s reaction.

Instead, Merrick held out his gloved palm. “I believe you
owe me a small sum, also, my lady.”

Cassandra gazed at his palm with contempt, then began to
bundle what remained of her winnings into the linen again. “That’s my finder’s
fee. I’ll have the handkerchief laundered and returned to you on the morrow.”

A grin forced the corners of his mouth upward as Wyatt read her
defiance. “Very well, my lady, I’ll remember that. Do you have a schedule of
fees for your other services?”

He should not have said that. It really was quite wicked of
him to taunt her, but he could not resist responding in kind. It worked. The
thundercloud disappeared, and she grinned at him with understanding before
adopting a sultry expression and leaning provocatively closer.

“Of course, my lord. Shall you come in while I show them to
you? Bring your young friend. I’m certain he would profit from further lessons
this night.”

The jest had gone entirely too far. Ignoring the shock on
Thomas’ face, Merrick caught the young chit by the nape and held her firmly at
a proper distance. “Cassandra, you ever were in serious want of a sound
thrashing. I’ll be round to see your brother in the morning.”

Faint mockery laced her voice as she leaned back, forcing
Wyatt to release her or caress her shoulder. “I fear you just left Duncan
behind. He won’t be home until morning, and I can promise you he won’t be in a
humor to hear of my shortcomings. But you’re certainly welcome to try. I might
sell tickets of admission.”

“You really are an undisciplined brat, aren’t you?” he
asked, removing his hand to the safety of his cane.

“And you really are a stuffy old stick. That makes us even.”

Thomas could scarcely believe his eyes or ears as he watched
the dignified earl and the golden miss rip up at each other as if they were cat
and dog. What was worse, they did it with such control that he couldn’t be at
all certain that he could believe a word they said, particularly when they
looked at each other as they were doing now. It ought to be daggers they were
drawing, but instead, Thomas felt decidedly
de
trop.

That was an irrational thought. He was feeling a little
fuzzy from the strong ale. Merrick was the last one to be accused of molesting
a lady. The fellow didn’t even keep a mistress. He had mockingly been called
St. Wyatt behind his back for years for his views on the weaker sex. Not only
did he hold the radical notion that women were not meant to be used by men
except for bearing their children within the confines of marriage, he included
all women in that notion, not just ladies.

As the landau rattled to a halt before the lady’s residence,
Thomas lifted the curtains. He had every intention of continuing the lady’s
acquaintance despite her insult. She looked like she needed a friend, and
Merrick obviously didn’t mean to be one. He frowned at the sight of another
closed carriage waiting across the street, but he didn’t speak up. Perhaps it
was the habit of the neighborhood to come and go at all hours.

Thomas gallantly took the lady’s hand, murmured all the
polite phrases he knew, but remained behind as Merrick escorted her to the
door. He didn’t want to know what was between those two. His head was already aching
just thinking about it.

When the earl returned to the carriage, Thomas commented
idly, “I say, Wyatt, ain’t that Rupert’s carriage across the street? I thought
he had enough barrels of gold to live in a more fashionable district.”

Merrick glanced out the window to the carriage and cursed.
He leapt out of the carriage again.

A woman’s scream echoed from inside the house, and hastily,
Thomas scrambled after Merrick.

~*~

Inside, Cassandra swiped her arm over her mouth to wash
away the disgusting moistness of the baronet’s lips on hers. Rupert had caught
her unprepared. Viciously, she trod on his toe, but her cloth slippers went
unnoticed against his leather boots. Holding her tight, he nuzzled her neck,
and she nearly lost her supper in revulsion.