“In reality,” Levi said over his shoulder, “it’ll cost him over twelve thousand, as you’ve already lost our wager.”
Pulling open the conservatory door, Mansfield laughed, but the jovial sound did nothing to ease the tension in Levi’s body.
He was quite certain they’d failed in their task, and though he didn’t intend to share his fear of living in a house with a spirit, it was only proper that Warwick be informed. He prayed Warwick would find the situation diverting enough to stay.
“How did it go?” Beaufort asked, glancing up from his hand of cards as they entered the kitchen.
Setting the mortar on the table, Levi shifted his gaze to Warwick. “We don’t know if it worked.”
Several emotions flickered across Warwick’s face. After a long moment, he inclined his head once and gestured for Mrs. Grove to refill his glass.
“Mrs. Grove has already unpacked my things,” he murmured, then drained the whiskey.
Roxburghe strode forward. “The lodging may be settled, but Grisham and I are no closer to solving our issue.”
“Perhaps,”—Beaufort wiggled his eyebrows—“your lovely fiancées could solve the wedding date dilemma.”
“It could take days before that’s decided,” Roxburghe said, lifting one of the newly filled glasses of whiskey Mrs. Grove set out for them, “depending on their engagements, and I’m an impatient man.”
Grisham snorted. “The word you wish to use is besotted.”
“Deny to me that you are not?”
“Besotted?” Grisham grinned, collected his glass, and clinked the rim against Roxburghe’s. “I most definitely am.”
“We could,” Levi said, surprised by his voice and the irrepressible desire to see Miss Rowe, “ask your fiancées to decide the matter this very evening, as the ladies are playing cards at Miss Rowe’s residence.”
“An excellent suggestion,” Roxburghe replied, saluting Warwick. “If you wish to remain here with Mr. Philbert, we will give your excuses.”
“Present one logical reason,” Warwick said, his liquor-soaked gaze sliding to Roxburghe, “why six foxed gentlemen should descend upon Miss Rowe’s home at this hour.”
Roxburghe chuckled, his impish gaze flicking to Levi. “Because Lennox wants to call upon Miss Rowe.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
EVELINE/HELENA
“Damn!” Miss Fernsby-Webb shoved the remaining portion of her coins toward Helena. “You are quite a fortunate woman. If I didn’t know you personally, I’d accuse you of cheating.”
Helena swallowed. She hadn’t cheated once during this game, solely due to Miss Drummond’s unwavering interest, which hadn’t left Helena’s face except to glance at the hand dealt and to place a wager.
Tossing her cards toward Miss Fernsby-Webb, Miss Drummond asked, “How long have you known Miss Rowe?”
“Not long,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, scraping the cards into a pile. “My sister introduced us upon my return.”
“I wish I had the opportunity to travel more,” Miss Drummond said, placing a coin in the center of the table. “Where did you visit?”
An uncomfortable silence passed over the group. Helena exchanged a look with Miss Sinclair.
“Prison,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said as she passed out the cards.
“Oh!” Miss Drummond brightened to scarlet. “I-I apologize. I didn’t know.”
Miss Fernsby-Webb waved her hand, dismissing the apology. “You couldn’t have.”
“Were… were you guilty?”
“Goodness, no.” Miss Fernsby-Webb chuckled. “You don’t think they’d release a felonious woman, do you?”
