Page 49 of If the Slipper Fits
Caden peeled up his cards, pretending to study his hand while eyeing Hardasher, on his immediate left.
The man brooded better than a hen guarding eggs which refused to hatch. Granted, the poor sot had loo’d the last several rounds, while Caden had managed to snag at least a third of the pot five times running. Any man’s pride would be pricked, especially in light of Caden quashing his scheme to get Anna alone earlier. Not the man’s day.
His mouth curved upward at the thought. He could be forgiven for taking enjoyment out of Hardasher’s failures as concerned Anna, couldn’t he? He hadn’t had the best day himself. Misery and all that.
“Thurgood’s grinning like the cat who stole the canary,” Harrison announced wearily. “I’ll take it as a sign. Pass.”
Caden winked at his young friend and tossed some coin onto the table to raise the stakes. “Trump.”
A collective groan sounded as, one by one, the other players slid their cards toward the table’s center.
“Never say you win again?” Hardasher grumbled accepting the deck as the game’s next dealer. He shuffled the cards, a marked scowl on his face. “With luck like yours it’s a wonder you didn’t take the grand prize this afternoon as well.” After a beat he added, “Or did you?”
The man’s thinly veiled slur on Anna’s virtue rankled. Never mind Cadenhadmade advances.
“The prize of a beautifulwoman on my arm? So I did.”
Hardasher arched a brow. “You’ve become fast friends since the first night when you asked if I recognized her.”
“Are we playing or would the two of you rather yammer like a couple of kitchen maids?” asked Sir Geoffrey, seated to Caden’s right.
He ignored the outburst.
Anna had secured his promise to not approach Hardasher to question him about her. But he hadn’t brought her up. Hardasher had. Would she consider that splitting hairs? Probably.
He sprawled in his chair, slinging one arm over the back, and responded to Hardasher. “You didn’t, as I recall. Recognize her that is.”
Hardasher pursed his thin lips as he dealt. “Indeed. I’m convinced I never laid eyes on Miss…Jones is it? before this weekend.”
“Mrs. Jones,” he corrected absently. Tension he hadn’t realized he held eked out of his shoulders. The man did not know her. “Last hand for me, I’m afraid.”
Harrison rallied the others. “That gives us one last chance to recoup our losses, lads. Ante up.”
One by one they tossed coins onto the table.
Tight-lipped, Hardasher slanted Caden a look. “As I recall, she did look familiar, however.”
A chill skittered up his spine. Something about the man’s canny tone, as if he knew something Caden did not. Impossible, he assured himself. Of all the party’s attendees, he alone knew the woman’s true identity.
“Right. Then you realized you’d seen her earlier in the day, alongside Lady Wentworth,” Caden said.
Several players in turn demanded replacement cards. Hardasher doled them out accordingly.
Caden gave the signal to keep the hand he was dealt. In truth, he hadn’t a clue which cards he held.
Hardasher added two cards to the discards, before peeling off replacements. He fanned out his hand, viewing his cards, then grinned.
Caden resisted the urge to repeat his last statement. Did Hardasher know Anna or not? Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t. Still. Hehadfollowed the two of them into the recesses of the manse.
Good God, Anna’s paranoia was catching.
Hardasher tapped a blunt finger under his nose. “The thing is, over the last several months, a sizable ad has run repeatedly in theTimes, seeking information on the whereabouts of a lady bearing a striking resemblance to Mrs. Jones.”
An ad? Who placed ads for missing persons? Runners might. Beads of sweat formed between his shoulder blades to trickle slowly down his back.
Other than admitting to falling on hard times, Anna’s answers had been deliberately vague. Might she have committed a serious crime such as stealing something valuable in order to survive?
He rolled the idea of a thieving Anna over in his mind. He simply could not fathom it. He needed to rein in his imagination, by jove.
