The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) (11 page)

The Count lost all five tricks in the first two
games and four of those in the third one. A substantial sum of money changed
hands and Mr Chatham, expressing sympathy but appearing perfectly relaxed,
ordered a bottle of burgundy.
 
Count
Rainmayr pronounced the wine excellent and gave it the credit for him losing
only one trick in the next game and winning all five in the one after
that.
 
Mr Chatham started to look at his
opponent a trifle oddly … as though there was something he didn’t understand
and would very much like to.
 
He still
didn’t appear at all worried.

Mademoiselle Delacroix appeared in the doorway and
scanned the room, apparently checking that all was as it should be.
 
Her gaze passed over the visiting Austrian,
then returned to him and stayed there.
 
Belatedly becoming aware of her presence, the elderly gentleman
struggled to rise and, failing, bowed to her from his seat.
 
For a second, Madeleine continued to regard
him without expression.
 
Then she dropped
the merest suggestion of a curtsy and left.

The Count’s luck apparently deserted him for a
time and then surged back with a vengeance.
 
By the time Mr Chatham had lost three consecutive games, Mr Fox had quit
the basset table to come and watch and Lord March had wandered in from
downstairs.
 

‘Chatham’s losing,’ murmured Mr Fox to his
friend.
 

And, raising his eyebrows, Lord March said, ‘Is he
now?’

At the conclusion of the next game, Mr Chatham
leaned back in his chair and gave the Austrian gentleman a very level and yet
somehow inviting stare.
 

For the first time and barely discernible behind
the disfiguring lenses, a glimmer of humour appeared in the Count’s previously
austere gaze.
 
Then he nodded and, as if
answering a question, said, ‘Just so.’

‘Ah.’
 
Against all expectation, Mr Chatham beamed at him. ‘A rare pleasure.’

Not without difficulty, the Austrian heaved
himself from his seat.

‘For me, also.
 
But now I fear I grow fatigued.
 
Age is not a kind master.’
 

He looked round for his cane and nodded his
gratitude when Mr Fox put it in his hand.

Mr Chatham also rose.
 
He said, ‘Should it be possible, I would
greatly enjoy pitting my skills against yours on some future occasion, Count.’

‘I would like this also.
 
Sadly, my time here is all too brief.’
 
He turned to go only to find his way blocked
by another observer.
 
He paused,
infinitesimally and, with just a touch of irritability, said, ‘Your pardon,
sir.
 
If you would excuse me?’

‘Forgive me,’ said the Duke of Rockliffe, stepping
aside with a very slight bow.
 
‘I was overcome
with the odd notion that we had met before … but believe I may have been
mistaken.’

‘Indeed, I believe that must be so – although my
memory, like my eye-sight, is no longer what it was.’
 
Another tiny pause as Aristide appeared in
the doorway. ‘Ah … Monsieur Delacroix.
 
This is fortuitous.
 
I should be
grateful for your support down your very many stairs, if you would be so kind?’

‘Of course, Count.
 
It would be my pleasure.’

Rockliffe watched the two men leave the room and
then, offering his snuff-box to Charles Fox, said, ‘A new member?’

‘Only a visitor … and blessed with a visitor’s
luck, it would seem. An Austrian Count, I believe.’

‘Of which, as we know, there are a great number.’

‘Indeed.’
 
Mr Fox’s attention had been captured by the Duke’s snuff-box. ‘That is a
very unusual design, my dear … but I am not convinced that I like it.’

‘Do you know, Charles,’ sighed his Grace, ‘I fear
I am inclined to agree.’

*
 
*
 
*

‘Well?’ asked Aristide quietly, as he descended
the stairs with a hand on Count Rainmayr’s elbow.

‘We’ll come to that,’ said Adrian irritably. ‘What
the hell did you think you were doing letting Rockliffe up here?’

‘I did my best to keep him away.
 
But if you think one can stop his Grace doing
whatever he sets his mind to, you can’t know him very well.’

‘I don’t
want
to know him well.
 
He knows too damned
much about me as it is – and, if he recognised me just now and puts two and two
together, he’ll know a damned sight more.’

‘Point taken,’ sighed Aristide.
 
‘And Chatham?’

‘Isn’t interested in winning.
 
The first flicker of animation I saw was when
I used my own ability to take a few tricks off him.
 
He was surprised and then intrigued because
he didn’t know how I was doing it,’ replied Adrian quietly. ‘What do you know
about him?’

‘He’s married, financially comfortable and has no
known vices.
 
He’s also a Member of
Parliament; a Minister in the Treasury, if memory serves.’

‘That would fit.’

‘Why?’

‘I think he’s a mathematician.
 
He’s not counting cards – or not in the way I
do. So the only other solution is that he’s using mathematical formulae to
calculate probabilities.
 
I doubt he even
realises he’s doing it.
 
It’s just the
way his brain works.
 
The poor devil
probably even dreams about Pythagoras and quadratic equations.’

‘So what do I do about him?’

‘Tell him that other players have remarked on his
inexplicable good fortune at the tables.
 
Tell him that, though Count von Rainmayr has returned to Austria, you
believe you may know another man with a similar …talent.
 
Then, if he appears both interested and
discreet, send him to play cards with me.
 
God knows, I’d be delighted to be able to indulge in a few hands of
piquet without ending with mill-wheels grinding inside my head.’

~
 
*
 
*
 
~
 
*
 
*
 
~

By the time she was ready to leave the house,
Caroline had come to the conclusion that there was a lot to be said for a masquerade
ball.
 
The tiny gold mask made her eyes
appear very dark, while the bronze silk domino not only covered her hideous
mauve gown completely but also seemed to turn her hair into antique gold.
 
She tried putting up the hood and looking
sideways into the mirror.
 
The effect was
surprising.
 
She didn’t look like herself
at all.
 
And if only Mama would stop
talking for a few minutes, she might not
feel
like herself either.

‘When are you going to tell him you’ll have him,
Caro?’

‘I don’t know.
 
It’s only been two days, after all.’

‘Two days is two days.
 
You can’t expect the man to wait forever.’

‘I don’t.’

‘And you promised the girls and me you wouldn’t turn
him down.’

Caroline clenched her hands in the soft folds of
the domino.

‘I don’t recall saying that exactly.’

‘Words to the same effect,’ shrugged Mrs Haywood.
‘So, since you’re going to say yes, you might as well do it sooner as later.
 
He’ll be there tonight, won’t he?’

‘I expect so.
 
But everyone will be masked and one can never be private at a ball,
anyway.’ She took a steadying breath and decided it was time to make a stand.
‘Please, Mama … I know you mean well but this is not helping.
 
And if you won’t let me think the matter
through properly, I’ll just say no and have done with it.’

‘You wouldn’t be such a fool!’

‘You may not realise it – but I’m trying very hard
not to be
any
kind of fool.
 
And now I must go.
 
Lady Brassington is here.’

Once in the carriage, her ladyship smiled and
said, ‘My goodness, Caroline!
 
That
bronze is exactly the right shade for you.
 
You look very nice, my dear … and hopefully tonight will prove a more
pleasant evening than some of the others.
 
You deserve it.’

Their relationship had changed in some indefinable
way since the encounter with the highwayman.
 
Probably, thought Caroline, because they had a shared secret.
 
Smiling back, she said, ‘Thank you, my
lady.
 
That’s kind of you.’

‘Not particularly.’
 
Lady Brassington folded her hands in her lap
and said, ‘In a moment, I’ve something bizarre and rather exciting to tell
you.
 
But first, I wanted to say
this.
 
Ludovic Sterne is my second cousin
and I’m fond of him; but I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s never going to
change – so finding him a wealthy wife is pointless.
 
What I’m basically saying is that, if and
when he makes you an offer, you shouldn’t even consider it.
 
You can do much better than a well-mannered
wastrel.’

Somewhat taken aback, Caroline said weakly, ‘You
think so?’

‘I’m sure of it.
 
And that brings me to Marcus Sheringham.
 
Has he declared himself yet?’

She nodded, suddenly fascinated to see where this
conversation would go.

‘Ah.
 
I’m
presuming you didn’t accept?’

‘No.
 
I said
I needed time to consider.’

‘Very wise.
 
And what does your instinct tell you?’

‘My instinct,’ said Caroline wryly, ‘can scarcely
get a word in edgeways.’

‘Your mother?
 
Yes.
 
She’s seeing a good-looking
fellow with a title, I daresay and not looking beyond it.’
 
Her ladyship settled her grey silk domino
more securely about her.
 
‘Do you like
him?’

‘That’s just the trouble.
 
I can’t decide.
 
I feel as though I
should
… but somehow I’m never quite comfortable with him.
 
He’s polite and attentive and he says all the
right things --’ She stopped.
 
‘No,
that’s not true. He pretends he’s fallen in love with me and thinks I’m stupid
enough to believe it.’

There was a brief, thoughtful silence.
 
Then Lady Brassington said, ‘This isn’t going
to make me popular with your Mama … but there’s no reason for Sheringham to be
so deep in debt other than his addiction to the tables and, as with Ludo, I
don’t see that changing.
 
He’ll fritter
your money away the same as he has his own.
 
And if, on top of that, you don’t care for the man, marriage with him is
unlikely to make you happy.’
 
She leaned
across and patted Caroline’s hand.
 
‘There.
 
That’s all I intend to
say on the matter.
 
You’ll make your own
decision when you’re ready.
 
Just
remember that there are plenty of fish in the sea and you owe it to yourself to
catch one you can live with.’

The turn of phrase made Caroline smile but she
said, ‘Thank you for your advice – and your honesty.’

‘As to that, it was about time.
 
Now … to the other thing I’ve been impatient
to tell you.’
 
Her ladyship parted the
folds of her domino. ‘What do you think of this?’

It took Caroline a moment to recognise what she
was supposed to be looking at.
 
Then, on
a sharp breath, she said, ‘My goodness – your pearls!’

‘Yes and no.
 
These were found on the back doorstep this morning in a plain box, along
with this.’

Caroline accepted the small pasteboard card and
squinted to make out the writing in the poor light.

 
It has come to my attention that Yr.
Ladyship was recently robbed of items of sentimental value.
 
It is my fond hope that the enclosed will, in
some small measure, compensate for this loss.
 

Yrs.

Sir Galahad

‘Sir Galahad?’ said Caroline.
 
And then, rolling her eyes, ‘As in the
Knights of the Round Table and righting all wrongs and so forth?’

‘It would seem so.’

‘But who on earth
is
he?
 
And who would even
know what happened – let alone choose to do something like this?’

‘I have no idea.
 
Isn’t it delicious?
 
And there’s
more.’
 
Lady Brassington paused for
dramatic effect and then added, ‘These aren’t my pearls.
 
As I told you, mine were inferior.
 
These
are the very best quality and are probably worth upwards of two hundred
pounds.’
 
She laughed.
 
‘Do you know, Caroline … our little adventure
just gets better and better.’

*
 
*
 
*

Overbury House was ablaze with lights and the
ballroom was already full of masked gentlemen in black dominos and ladies
wearing ones of every colour imaginable.
 
For a full minute, Caroline stared about her, utterly dazzled.
 
Then she said, ‘I had no idea it would be
like this.
 
How does anyone know who
anyone else is?’

‘Mostly, they don’t – which is half the charm.
 
The gentlemen have an easier time of it than
the ladies, of course.
 
But even so, one
can rarely be
absolutely
sure with
whom one is dancing.
 
So accept anyone
who asks, my dear and enjoy yourself.
 
Just avoid dark corners and empty side-chambers.
 
As the evening wears on, some of the
gentlemen are apt to forget their manners.’

A young man whose dark eyes laughed through his
mask swung to a halt before her and made a sweeping bow.
 
‘Fair lady … will you take my hand for the
gavotte?’

‘I – yes.’ Caroline glanced at Lady Brassington
and received an encouraging nod.
 
‘Yes,
sir.
 
I’d be delighted.’
 
And promptly found herself swept away into
the dance.

Just for a moment, when she’d first accepted his
hand, she had thought he might be Lord Nicholas Wynstanton.
 
Then she recalled his lordship saying that he
generally avoided dancing and realised that it couldn’t be.
 
So, after a little while, she said
cautiously, ‘Perhaps one isn’t supposed to ask … but have we met, sir?’

‘Before this enchanted moment?
 
No.
 
Had we done so, I would have recalled looking into such dark pools of
mystery.’

Her jaw dropped slightly and she stared at him,
searching for mockery.

He looked back and shook his head, smiling.

‘Your eyes, lovely lady.
 
A fellow could drown in them.’
 
And, after a brief pause, ‘Also, no.
 
One is
not
supposed to ask.
 
One is supposed to
guess and then wait for the great unmasking at midnight.’

‘Oh.
 
Yes.
 
Of course.’

‘This is your first masquerade ball, I take it?’

‘Yes.
 
It’s
very … very …’ She stopped, unable to think of the right word.

‘It is indeed,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘
Very
.’

And, quite suddenly, Caroline found herself
laughing.

By the time she had danced three consecutive
dances with three perfect strangers, she realised that, for the first time, she
was actually enjoying herself.
 
She
didn’t know whether it was the anonymity provided by the mask or the relaxed
formality of the occasion, but she suddenly stopped worrying about saying the
wrong thing or laughing when she shouldn’t – and it felt good.
 
Better
than good, in fact.
 
It was totally
intoxicating.

 
She quickly
understood what Lady Brassington had meant about it being easier for the
gentlemen to distinguish one lady from another. Only a handful of men had
chosen to flout the fashion for powder.
 
All the rest, with their narrow silk masks and black dominos, differed
only in height, bearing and age. But the ladies, with their natural locks and dominos
of every conceivable colour, were less well disguised … making it possible for
a man to identify a lady he knew or to find again one he
wished
to know.
 
When her
first partner claimed her hand for a second time and flirted even more
outrageously than he had before, Caroline felt more alive – more
herself
– than she had done since
leaving Yorkshire.

Although she’d always known that she was no beauty,
she’d never been a shrinking violet, afraid to speak up for herself.
 
In the last weeks, however, she’d let Mama’s
expectations, Grandpa’s money and the dismissive stares of fashionable
strangers turn her into a ghost of her former self.
 
Tonight, for the first time, she had regained
her usual spirit … and, having done so, was determined to hold on to it. She
was tired of being afraid to open her mouth in case she put her foot in it.
From this point on, fashionable London could take her as she was or not at
all.
 
The days of Caroline the Mouse, she
decided rebelliously, were over.

A little later whilst talking to Cassandra
Delahaye, she glimpsed a gleaming, fair head and her heart dipped a little,
thinking it was Lord Sheringham.
 
Then
the gentleman turned and she recognised her mistake.
 
His face was finer-boned, his smile much
warmer and his attention wholly focussed on the stunning brunette with whom he
was dancing, one hand resting on her waist.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, Cassie said,
‘That’s Lord Amberley.
 
Handsome, isn’t
he? And that’s his wife with him. She’s lovely, too. It’s so sad that she’s
blind – though mostly one would never know. They are great friends with
Rockliffe and his Duchess.
 
You won’t
have met Adeline yet – which is a pity because she’s the most elegant woman in
Town.
 
But she hasn’t been much in
society lately.’ Lowering her voice, Cassie whispered, ‘We think she may be in
an interesting condition.’

‘An interesting … oh.
 
You mean she’s having a baby?’ said the new Caroline,
unable to comprehend why this happy fact had to be whispered in code.

Cassie blushed, nodded and promptly changed the
subject.

‘I promised the next dance to Lord Harry –
speaking of which,
his
wife is a
particular friend of mine and she’s planning a private party at the Pantheon
the day after tomorrow.
 
I’m invited and
I’ve asked her to send you a card as well.
 
I hope that’s all right?
 
Nell
will arrange carriages for everyone and there’ll be plenty of married ladies in
the party so Lady Brassington needn’t come.’

‘That’s kind of you,’ said Caroline, surprised to
have been thought of. ‘But won’t your friend mind?
 
She doesn’t know me, after all.’

‘She won’t mind a bit and I’ll present you to her
later.
 
Meanwhile, here’s her husband –
so you can meet him right now.’

*
 
*
 
*