Page 27 of Lady Fiona's Tall, Dark Folly
"Fine idea," Charlton agreed, the devil in his eyes.
"I must decline." She'd promised Mary she wouldn't play and succumb to her ability to fleece her aunt's and uncle's guests. She resolved to be firm about excusing herself from Charlton's company. She would refuse! But first, she'd dig into her little desserts and finish them off.
Collingswood spoke to his dinner partner on his other side and returned to them to say, "Now we have our fourth. Lady Saunderson agrees and suggests whist."
Fifi shook her head, unable to talk with a mouth-full of crisp sugary dough. She hated that game. Lady Saunderson had been the finest player at school, and had even taught Fifi a few tricks. She swallowed quickly. "I prefer Cabriole."
"I don't know that one," said Collingswood.
"I know it," said Charlton.
Bother! She shouldn't play! "I must not. I'm really quite tired from the day."
Charlton narrowed his gaze on her, his challenge a mischievous dare.
Didn't believe her, eh? Well, she'd show him he did not know her well. "Perhaps one round."
"Wonderful," said Collingswood.
* * *
Lady Saunderson leanedback in her chair and flashed her brilliant topaz-colored eyes in a look of success. "Your turn, Lord Collingswood."
"My lady," he countered with a grin, then laid a card face up that the lady cooed over. "I hesitate to breathe. You ruined me on the last round."
She chuckled lightly.
Rory suspected that these two knew each other well. Oh, they addressed each other formally enough, but there was a familiarity in their repartee that said they understood each other on a primal level.
Rory sighed. He'd had that himself with Fifi until her friend Ivy had spoken with her. What could her friend have said in so short a time that would ruin what Rory would have called the perfect relationship?
He'd no idea! Yet the woman who taught them the game she called Cabriole, did so with a focus that shocked him. She did not speak. She did not joke. She drank sherry like a gunner who'd lost his cannon. And her lovely blue eyes? Those that could lure him to all manner of risqué dreams? They looked upon the cards, then rose to meet his with the ruthless regard of a City banker.
He could not identify this creature whose gaze rarely strayed from the table for the past hour. She wore her glasses, unlike that first time they'd played together six years ago. But her spectacles mattered not, for he did recall she'd played then too with a ruthless acuity that had stolen his logic. Like then, tonight she had won a pretty pot. Twenty pounds from Lady Saunderson, her pick of the spring litter from his own pack of fox hounds and half of Collingswood's annual order of Jameson's Irish Whiskey.
"Come now, Fee," cooed the lady who, it seemed, knew her well. "I brought no more funds with me. You must allow me to win back my pin money."
"Far from it, Diana," Fifi said with relish and a wink. "I must show you how the student rewards her teacher. With excellence."
"Play your final card then," the lady demanded. "I must see what you have before I toss my home into the pot."
Fifi's cavalier demeanor cracked. "You shouldn't bet it and I must never bankrupt you."
Rory froze.
Fifi shot back in her chair. "Oh, I am sorry. That was...!"
Collingswood blinked.
Rory sat in disbelief. The two women clearly knew each other so well that their finances were no secret. Was Fifi so driven to win that she would be so carelessly rude?
"Oh, Diana." Fifi reached across the table and caught her friend's hand. "I am sorry. Very sorry. I...I don't know what got into me."
"Please say no more, Fifi. I know you did not mean to insult me."
"I truly did not."
"It's my fault, Fee. I should not have sat here with you."
