Page 28 of The Danger of Desire
“They’re no more lackadaisical than the rules for playing the violin, I would imagine, and you love that.” Delia leaned toward Warren. “Brilliana not only draws magnificently, but she plays the violin to perfection. I can’t even play the pianoforte. I’m all thumbs when it comes to instruments.”
That remark just begged for a double entendre, but he knew better than to shock the ladies.
“Still,” Mrs. Trevor put in, “Reynold thought me a dunce because I couldn’t keep the rules for vingt-un straight. And piquet! Might as well have asked me to perform astronomy calculations in my head. Nowthat’sa convoluted card game.”
“I doubt that he thought you a dunce,” Lady Pensworth put in. “And if he did, he should have had his knuckles rapped for it.” She leaned toward Warren. “My nephew and Delia played piquet practically every day from childhood on. They led us all a merry dance at the card tables when my husband was still alive. They learned it from their father, my sister’s husband, you see.”
Their father. Something niggled in the back of his mind. The name Trevor. Gambling.
Good God. He stared at Delia. “Your father was Captain Mace Trevor?”
She looked startled. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Everyone’s heard of him. I was at the game where he won an estate from Sir Geoffrey eleven years ago.” It had been a masterful bit of whist playing. “Your father wasn’t seen in gaming hells or clubs from that night on.”
“No,” Delia said stiffly. “Mama insisted that he stay put once they had obtained Camden Hall. And miraculously, he agreed.”
“Why ‘miraculously’?”
“Because until then,” she said with a decided note of bitterness, “he’d dragged our family around the world while he was an army officer during the war and then while he gambled his way across Europe. I think Mama found it exciting at first, but it grew old. Eventually he heeded her request that he settle down. Unfortunately, she didn’t get to enjoy it for long.” The quick flash of sorrow over Delia’s face spoke volumes.
“Given your presence in London without her, I take it that she is no longer—”
“She passed away when I was sixteen,” Delia said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He truly was. He somehow suspected that her mother’s death had been part of what had changed her into the wary woman sitting across from him now. “And your father?”
She drew into herself. “The following year.”
“Ah. I remember reading about that in the papers.” Warren still couldn’t believe Delia was the daughter of Mace Trevor, though now that he thought about it, he could see the resemblance—especially in those keen eyes and the pugnacious chin.
“That’s why Delia is just now having her debut,” Mrs. Trevor explained. “My father-in-law died before she was old enough to be presented, and then my husband was always too busy at Camden Hall to bring us to London for any extended period.”
Lady Pensworth sniffed. “Yet not too busy to come here and—”
“Aunt Agatha, please,” Delia said in an undertone.
“Oh, very well. This topic of conversation has grown rather morbid, anyway,” Lady Pensworth said. “Why don’t we speak of something cheerier?”
“I know!” Mrs. Trevor exclaimed, her brown eyes twinkling. “We should plan when Delia and Lord Knightford are going to have their piquet match. I confess I’m eager to see if he can beat her.”
“Of course he can. And will, I’m sure,” Lady Pensworth said with a warning glance at Mrs. Trevor.
The young woman blinked at the baroness. “I’m not sure at all. Did you not hear me say how very good she is?”
Warren chuckled. “I believe Lady Pensworth is trying to spare my fragile male pride.”
“I see.” Mrs. Trevor arched an eyebrow at him. “I should hope that your pride isn’t wounded by something as trivial as being beaten at cards.”
“No, my male pride is quite capable of withstanding that,” he said, ignoring the way Delia was trying—and failing—to smother a laugh.
“Then the game should be soon,” Mrs. Trevor said. “Perhaps sometime next week?”
Delia’s amusement vanished. “I’m sure his lordship has better things to do than—”
“Would you stop answering for me about my schedule?” he said irritably. “I know what things I have to do. Besides, I have no firm—” He paused, a brilliant idea coming to him. He wanted to prevent Delia from taking these mad risks. And now, he had an excellent means for doing so. “My only firm commitment is Clarissa’s house party. Youareall going, aren’t you? I know you were invited.”
“I’m afraid—” Delia began.
