Sybille's Lord (15 page)

Authors: Raven McAllan

BOOK: Sybille's Lord

7.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Chapter Twenty-Five

Thom
scanned the occupants, as he, Theo and Mijo made their way across Jacqueline Grey’s
over crowded ballroom. It was the usual ton crush, and as ever La Grey had too
many bodies, too many candles, not enough pomanders, and too few windows open.
On such a warm evening it was like an oven. With overripe meat cooking.

Mijo
put her hand over her nose. “This reeks, can we move through and out into the
garden?”

“Why
not? Head left, I see the man I seek near the end French window. Go outside of
the one before him.” They altered course and eventually reached their
destination, and breathed in the fresh night air.

“Whew,
that is so much better.” Mijo fanned herself. “Why do we put ourselves through
it?”

“It’s
the season. We are sheep,” Thom said. “Ah, and as I thought, here comes the
cavalry, or should that be the rest of the herd?”

“I
heard that, Thomas Ormston.” Esme bussed his cheek once he had bowed over her
hand and then straightened up. “What took you so long?”

“Mijo,”
Thom said promptly. That lady embraced her daughter, then punched his arm.

“Thomas.”

Theo
rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

“Here
we do not,” Thom said. “Esme how did you all get here?”

“By
coach. But if you mean into here, we sneaked in via the garden gate. I didn’t
think you’d want our presence announced yet.”

“I
didn’t think I wanted your presence, at all,” Thom said. “It seems I was wrong.”

“Very
wrong,” Esme said firmly. “So what’s the plan?”

“It
will be one of two things, and which will depend, in the main, on Bankfoot. I don’t
want to humiliate him unless it’s necessary, but believe me if I have to, I
will. The original plan will now be amended slightly. Listen well.” He
shepherded his team toward the end of the terrace where most of the assembled
crowd wouldn’t bother to walk to. Here the sconces were fewer, the shadows
longer, and the pavers uneven.

Thom
stopped just before the low wall that separated them from the rose garden, and
rapidly explained what was needed.

“Perfect,”
Mijo exclaimed when he had finished.

“Are
you all happy with your part?” Thom asked. “If not now is the time to say so.”

“Of
course.”

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“You
have it covered.”

Thom
nodded. “Good. Give me five minutes.” He spun Sybille into his arms and kissed
her soundly. “Be assured all will be well. Think where you would like to go for
a honeymoon.” He walked away before she could answer.

Bankfoot
was leaning again the wall in the larger of the rooms set aside for gaming. “Whist,
I think Cornelius.” Thom spoke directly into Bankfoot’s ear. The man jumped
most satisfactorily. Thom smote him on the shoulder. “In the smaller salon.” He
left his arm across Bankfoot’s shoulder in a parody of friendliness, and
steered him away from the wall and toward the smaller salon.

“What
if I don’t want to play with you?” Bankfoot said, fiercely. “You have the gall
to come here like this and expect me to game with you and…”

“Oh
not just expect,” Thom said genially. “Demand. Let’s say, in one way, your life
depends on it.” He steered them to an empty table near the far wall and sat
Bankfoot with his back to the bank of windows. It was perfect for what he
intended.

“Sit
and cut the pack.” He flipped a new deck of cards toward Bankfoot who caught it
in a well-practiced, automatic gesture, and slit the seal.

“Be
prepared, Ormston. I do not lose.” Bankfoot shuffled the cards expertly.

“You
missed the Ace,” Thom pointed out. “Of Spades. I believe it accidentally slid
onto your lap.”

Bankfoot
scowled. “Thank you, it did.”

“That’s
the last warning,” Thom said, menace in every word. “Now what shall we wager?
Oh I know. Reputations. Deal.”

“Reputations?
Whose?” Bankfoot dealt the cards and sorted his hand. “Hearts are trumps.”

“Of
course, hearts. That is fitting. And as for reputations? Yours and a friend of
mine.” He dropped a card onto the baize. “Jack. When you lose, if you do not
promise to hold your mouth about any misconceived ideas you have regarding the
Birches’ pearls, I will mention three words.”

“Oh, and that should worry me? I never lose.”
Bankfoot threw a card on the table. “My trick. As I said losing is not in my
repertoire.”

“Not
when you cheat, no. By the way, now all the aces are in the pack, remember, it
is aces high. But you’re not going to cheat tonight. Replace the extra card you
just picked up. Thank you.” Thom sorted his cards. They would do nicely. “Now,
where was I? Ah yes, three words. Do you want to know what they are?”

“It
seems you have a need to tell me.”

“True.”
Thom made a show of considering his hand of cards and nodded. “I think it’s best
you know. Your father’s heir. There, those are my three words.”

Bankfoot
paled, and his hand shook as he laid his cards face down on the table. “And
that means what?” His voice wobbled. “I know all about my father’s heir thank
you.”

“I’m
sure you do. The Ace of Hearts.” He counted up the tricks. “My game, I think.
Now about the other matter.”

Bankfoot
stood up and his chair crashed to the floor. “You cheated. I had the Ace of
Hearts up my…” Several others looked up at them, as his voice faded away. “Damn
you, you think you’ve won? You might think you can ruin me, but remember what I
know.
That,
my lord, will scupper
your plans.”

Hello,
my lord.”

He spun round as if he’d been shot. Mijo and
Sybille stood there, side by side.

“Are
you admiring my pearls?” Mijo stroked the long, perfectly matched string that
caressed her neck and down between her breasts. “I believe you thought them
paste?”

Bankfoot
gobbled like a turkey. His mouth opened and shut but only a series of grunts
emerged.

Mijo
nodded. “Exactly so. I rarely wear them, but after your persecution of my
daughter I thought to put you straight.”

“These.”
Sybille held the string of pearls she wore up to show them to Bankfoot. “These
are the paste pearls we all wear to get used to them.”

“I
thought that, due to your insistence I didn’t know the difference between paste
and real, I’d best show you. Luckily Mr. Sandeman restrung the paste ones in
time for tonight. Sybille wore them as is right and correct.”

“Like
most young ladies of the ton.” Esme, with Tina, had joined them. “She will
practice with paste. Good evening Cornelius. How’s Alfie? And your father? I
must pay a visit on them soon.”

Up
until then, Thom had never ever seen pure, unadulterated rage and hatred on a
face. He was sure if it had been possible Bankfoot would have ground his teeth,
and stamped his feet. To say nothing of putting a knife between his, Thom’s, ribs.

“I’m
sure they would enjoy that,” Bankfoot said stonily. “If you will all excuse me?”

“If
you shake on the fact this is over and done with,” Thom said softly. “All of
it. Oh and you best make sure none of us hear of any accident befalling your
brother.”

Bankfoot’s
eyes widened at Thom’s obvious inference. “I wouldn’t.”

“I’m
glad to hear it. So?” Thom held out his hand. Bankfoot took it, and shook it,
before he turned to Mijo. “My abject apologies, Madame. I was hopeful of
winning your daughter’s hand and I misjudged. No hard feelings, Lady Sybille?”

“Lots,”
Sybille said cheerfully. “But I’ll do my best to hide them.”

Bankfoot
bowed. “So be it. Will you all now excuse me?”

“Of
course.” Thom waved toward the door. “As long as you remember those three
words.”

“As
if I could forget.” Bankfoot bowed, spun on his heels and walked stiff-legged
and with a ramrod-straight back, out of the room.

Thom
picked up the cards and shuffled the pack. “Anyone want a hand of whist? Almost
new pack, only used once. Fifty-three cards excluding the Jokers. Oh yes and
with two Aces of Hearts.”

Epilogue

“I
honestly thought Maman would say I needed to return home with her.” Sybille
rested on one elbow and played with the hairs on Thom’s chest. She was well and
thoroughly loved, sated and very happy. “She never fails to surprise me.”

“She
knew we needed to be together.” Thom kissed her nose. “Sensible woman.”

Sybille
wrinkled the orifice he paid so much attention to. “What is this fascination
you have with my nose?”

Thom
grinned. “It’s cute.” There was no answer to that.

“Oh
well, all right then.” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and pressed
a kiss to each of his nipples, in turn. They puckered under her touch and she
wriggled in happiness. His receptiveness to her touch was oh so satisfactory. “I
think the hairs on your chest are cute.”

“Woman,
a man is not cute. A man is manly.” He tickled her under her arm and she
giggled.

“Manly
cute.”

Thom
shook his head. “If you say so. Now, about our wedding. I was thinking Tuesday
next, St. George’s Hanover Square. I have the license, Mijo and your papa have
the wedding breakfast in hand, and Esme assures me Clemente will have your
dress ready. So, My Heart, will you marry me?”

Sybille
looked at him. “Well maybe… hold on. Right, one moment. Put your trousers on.”

He
blinked. “Why? We are in bed, I’m about to make love to you to celebrate our
official betrothal.”

“Soon.
First put your trousers on. Please, it’s important.”

Thom stared at her for a long moment, and
nodded. “If it is so important.” He rolled off the edge of the bed, and tugged
on a pair of pantaloons. “Now what?”

“Now
propose to me.”

He
raised one eyebrow. “I’ve already done so.”

“Not with clothes on. You were naked. I cannot
tell our children that their papa proposed to me naked in bed, both after and
before we made love.”

Thom
rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me?”

She
giggled. “Well…”

Thom’s
eyes narrowed.

“Of
course I will.”

“Good,
so now you can tell our children their papa proposed in his pantaloons,
standing by the bed, both after and before we made love.”

The End

www.ravenmcallan.com

Other Books by Raven
McAllan
:

www.evernightpublishing.com/raven-mcallan