Page 62 of Enticing Odds
“Not to your taste, Collier?” Marcus Hartley, the honorable MP for Knockton, inquired.
“It bloody well better be,” Thomas Rickard grumbled from across the room, holding his own glass to his lips as he added, “For the cost.”
“No, no, er, it’s quite alright,” Matthew said to his friends, taking a sip as if to prove his point.
Rickard watched. The liquor went down smooth; Matthew nodded his appreciation.
“Very nice, I’d say.”
“Good,” Rickard muttered, reaching down to pet his dog, Burt. The gray, wiry-haired lurcher leaned into the affectionate gesture, his tail thumping against the floor. Rickard straightened up, then turned his attention back to the snooker table before him. “Your shot, Hartley.”
Marcus sighed, as if engaging in a casual game in Rickard’s home this August evening was an excruciating obligation. Still, he retrieved his cue and lined up his shot, his face serious as he considered the possibilities.
Matthew’s eyes also darted about the green baize table, mentally drawing the angles, envisioning what deviations from a ninety-degree separation different ball spins would impart.
“Erm,” he offered, “were we placing any wagers?”
“Wagers? Let’s see.” Hartley straightened up, glancing between his two companions. “Rickard, fancy emptying your pockets this evening?”
“Fuck no,” Rickard scoffed before taking another drink.
“Right then.” Hartley crouched back down, resuming his position. “No wagers.”
The cue ball hit its mark with a crack, scattering several ivory balls across the table.
“Nothing personal, Collier. It’s just I’ve already enough misery this week without adding on to the pile.”
“Funerals,” Rickard clarified, shaking his head.
As if in commiseration, Burt stood up and shook himself out, then crossed the room and settled down in a heap with a sigh.
“This one was slightly more entertaining than most, but alas, I’m usually loath to leave Lancashire, as you well know. Especially now, with Evelyn’s condition.”
Hartley, a young liberal who sat for Knockton, a rural northern borough, had left the city when Parliament rose nearly a fortnight ago to return to his wife, who was several months into her first pregnancy—and doing very well, in Matthew’sprofessional opinion. Unfortunately, the death of a fellow member had forced Hartley’s sudden return to London to pay his respects, as evinced by the somber black armband he wore.
“Entertaining?” Matthew echoed, his curiosity piqued. “What did he die of, again?”
“Liver-grown, I’d say. Last time I saw him he was terribly jaundiced.” Hartley crossed the room to the cue rack, retrieving another which he now brought to Matthew, holding it out to him.
Slightly chagrined that there was nothing on the line, Matthew took the cue. He approached the table, the ball configuration readily revealing the best options to him. Since there was no point in winning, he decided to practice trick shots, and chose the most difficult target to begin with.
“The man was a known eccentric. Army captain. Champion of the Scottish reform bill. Mad about horses. Had several of them hitched up to the hearse, a motley crew of a team.”
“Mad about drink, I’d suppose?” Matthew inquired as he leaned one hand upon the green felt, cue in position.
“Mad about a lot of things. He used to write letters to Gladstone, claiming James VI was murdered, and that he alone knew the culprit’s identity.”
“And what was the prime minister supposed to do about it?” Rickard asked, one hand smoothing his neatly trimmed beard.
“You know, I haven’t the foggiest?”
Even with nothing on the line, Matthew felt a slight rush as he struck the cue ball. It sent its target ricocheting off every rail before finally settling in the corner pocket, not one arm’s width from where it had begun.
“Well done,” Rickard gruffly acknowledged.
“A family history of madness, perhaps?” Matthew set his cue aside and retrieved his crystal tumbler. He adored a puzzle, and case studies were his forte.
“Perhaps,” Hartley agreed with a shrug. “But more likely a tendency to spin tales. The man was an inveterate gambler. Wildly unsuccessful as well.”
