Page 100 of When the Marquess Was Mine
Rob didn’t care. Georgiana would be here soon, and the last thing they needed was a scene. He had a feeling Sterling would take umbrage at her presence.
“Good evening, gentlemen!” Freddie Forester appeared, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “I trust you’ve all come with ready money to lose.”
They laughed. Tom offered him a cigar, which Forester took with pleasure. Rob caught sight of Philip Lindeville, making his way toward them. The duchess was to arrive on his heels. Rob signaled to the dealer to shuffle.
And then a slim, dark figure stopped behind one of the two vacant seats. Forester shot to his feet. “Lord Wakefield!” Turning to the table he almost puffed out his chest with pride. “Your pardon, gentlemen. Wakefield is one of my business associates.”
Rob studied Georgiana’s brother with covert interest. Wakefield was a spare fellow of about medium height, his clothing as somber as a judge’s, dark hair cropped close to his scalp. He had a long, pointed nose and a small mouth, and pale blue eyes that seemed to be made of ice.
“Ballocks,” whispered Heath beside him. “Jack Ketch has come to Vega’s.”
On the other side of him, Marlow snorted into his wine at the reference to the hangman. Rob’s lip curled as well. It was an apt description.
Wakefield’s chilly gaze veered to Marlow, then back. “I want a word, Forester.”
“Of course,” declared Forester heartily, “but we’re about to play a few hands.”
Damn. First Sterling, now Wakefield. Rob tried not to react to the stirring of alarm that Georgiana would be walking in with no idea either of them was there. Heath was looking sideways at him for guidance; Tom was silent, focused wholly on Wakefield.
“I do not wish to wait all night,” Wakefield said in a slow, furious voice to Forester. “If you please, sir...”
“I say,” said Philip, finally reaching the table. “Shall I join you, Heath?” He looked Wakefield up and down. “Pardon me, old fellow.” He pulled out a chair and dropped into it.
“As you can see, Wakefield,” said Forester, obviously loath to relinquish his seat, “the play shall be excellent. I know you fancy cards. Join us!”
Bloody hell. “If he doesn’t want to play,” drawled Rob, “let him go, Forester. Don’t plague a man.”
But instead of leaving, Wakefield turned toward him with a curiously hostile stare. Rob stared back boldly, almost insolently, but inside he seethed at the thought of that man having Georgiana—or anyone—in his power. He was here to ruin Forester for principle, but he wouldn’t have minded thrashing Wakefield just for sport.
And then Wakefield pulled out the chair beside Forester and sat.
Georgiana’s nerves were wound tight with anticipation and anxiety.
On one hand, she would see the vaunted gaming room at the most infamous gambling establishment in London. Under normal circumstances she’d never be let through the doors, and even if she applied as a married woman, she wasn’t sure she’d have the audacity to go.
On the other hand, it would not be a pleasure visit. She had great confidence in Sophie and Rob, but she was under no illusion that success was certain. Cards were fickle things, as Sophie had often told her, and a bad run of hands could lead to the exact opposite result from the one they wanted.
“Thank you for doing this, Sophie,” she said.
In the dim carriage, her friend smiled. “Of course! How many times did you divert Mrs. Upton when I was sneaking back in from dicing in the stables?”
She had to laugh. That had been Sophie’s only pin money at school. “I wonder how much she ever believed.”
“You told her once you’d felt a tremor in the earth, and wondered if a volcano might be forming in Watley,” said Sophie dryly. “I can’t believe she let you finish the tale.”
Georgiana laughed. “That was one of my better ideas. Of course, then I had to endure a lecture on volcanoes...”
“It’s a miracle she didn’t toss us out.”
“Now we’re top graduates of her academy,” she said, causing her friend to burst into laughter.
“Oh, Georgiana,” Sophie gasped, wiping her eyes. “I’ve missed you so.”
“And I you.” She grinned. “If we survive tonight, it will be our greatest caper yet.”
They had reached the club. Georgiana jumped down first, but Sophie caught her breath as she stepped out. “Are you all right?” whispered Georgiana, eyes on the elegant, unremarkable facade of the club.
“Just a twinge,” Sophie whispered back, pressing one hand to her side with a wince. “I—I’m with child.”
