Page 99 of When the Marquess Was Mine
She sighed. If the duke could tell in a few minutes, it would be obvious to anyone. “That is fair. I—I have been thinking that I ought to leave the play to the rest of you.” She laid down her cards, hating to ask this of her friends but knowing she wasn’t going to help by insisting she play. “I’m not very good.”
“Nonsense,” said Rob. “You’ll be good enough.”
The duke glanced at him again. “Dashwood has a low tolerance for suspicious play. If Georgiana joins the table, a novice gambler against cardsharps, he’ll listen to Forester’s inevitable charges that something isn’t right.”
Sophie looked at her in dismay, but Georgiana shook her head. “He’s right. It’s more important to do this right than to insist I do it myself.”
“I’ll fill out the table,” said Rob. “Fellows who will play high and recklessly.”
“Right, then.” Lord Philip got up and stretched. “I need some tea to continue my false villainy.” Sophie laughed and rose as well, ringing for the maid.
Rob leaned toward Georgiana. “Don’t let Ware bully you out of it,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “He hasn’t. I can’t hold a candle to Sophie, let alone to you.” She gave him a mock look of amazement. “It’s a bit alarming how good you are at this...”
He grinned, reaching out to run his fingertips over the back of her hand. “A man of many talents, my love.”
She laughed. “Well do I know it!”
“And the sooner we conclude this trouble with Wakefield and Forester, the sooner I may demonstrate the more delightful of them,” he added in a wicked growl.
Georgiana blushed even as her heart jumped in anticipation. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter 32
The largest table at Vega’s sat eight players. Aside from himself and Forester, Rob needed to fill six chairs with conspirators. He couldn’t risk an idiot like Charles Winston spoiling things.
Heath would play, of course; not only was it his mission in the first place, the man could count cards after a whole bottle of whisky. The Duchess of Ware took another seat, and Lord Philip had agreed to play. He said he was well-practiced at losing to Rob and could carry on with no trouble at all. Marlow and Sackville were reliable, as well as customary members of Rob’s set. Ware’s words about raising Forester’s suspicions were sobering, and Rob didn’t want to risk that.
Telling Heath was a delicate business. His friend was furious that Rob had told so many other people, but came around as Rob pointed out all the ways this plan was far more formidable than the original.
“I suppose it doesn’t really matter who does it,” Heath finally said. “If the duchess will help, I can’t say no.”
The final member was a bit surprising to Rob. Neither he nor Heath could name a truly suitable candidate, until Tom came in as he and Heath were plotting. “I’ll play,” he volunteered after hearing a bit of their dilemma.
Rob raised his brows. After the sunrise ride with Georgiana, Tom had mostly given up dogging his heels. Rob wasn’t sure if this marked his brother’s approval, or if Tom had simply found more pleasurable pursuits, loosed in London from his regimental restraint. “Finally done being a jealous nursemaid?”
His brother grinned. “Once you turned into a sentimental bore, yes.”
“What’s that?” Heath wanted to know.
Rob waved it away. He had stuck to Forester and the fault in their original plan, leaving out Georgiana. “Tom’s running his mouth. We need to make certain Forester will attend...”
The night was fixed for two days hence. Rob arrived after ten along with Heath, Marlow, and Sackville, who were all fully informed and carrying on as they usually did. Wanting a clear head, Rob had drunk far less than usual, and was slightly taken aback by how loud they were. Heath had arranged to let Forester know of their plans, and Tom and Philip were to meet them at Vega’s. The duchess would arrive last of all, when Forester was already hooked.
Things went wrong almost from the start. Heath boldly commandeered the table, chasing away a few fellows dicing there. This time Forbes didn’t say a word. Rob thought perhaps he had been put on guard to expect something. Georgiana and the duchess had visited the club to reopen the duchess’s membership, and Georgiana had told Dashwood what they wanted to do. None of them was cheating, and yet it made him very conscious that the club owner knew they were playing with coordinated, cold-blooded intent to ruin another member.
Tom arrived on time, taking a bow as Marlow whistled in appreciation at the lurid yellowish-purple remnants of the black eye he’d got at Vega’s several days earlier. A few members, sensing high stakes, prowled about eagerly, but Heath repelled them with a ruthless mixture of mockery and arrogance, earning him a few scowls. Rob watched as they stalked off in high dudgeon; it was for their own good, poor fools. Let them ask Charles Winston.
“I say, Marlow, shall I join you?”
Startled, Rob looked up into the smug face of Lord Sterling. Sure of his welcome, he had already pulled out a chair before Rob managed to kick Heath’s foot. “Not tonight, Sterling,” barked Heath.
“Yes, we’ve limited it to honest fellows tonight,” drawled Tom. “Sorry, old chap.”
Sterling glared at Tom, who replied by blowing a thin stream of smoke from the cigar he’d just lit in Sterling’s direction. “Forgive me, Marlow. I didn’t notice your companions. I shall seek more congenial company.”
“Aye, and tell the waiter to bring us another bottle of port while you’re there,” added Rob carelessly, unable to resist pricking the fellow’s pride a bit. Sterling gave him a poisonous glare and strode off.
