Obviously moved, Labarge clasped Henry’s shoulders, kissed both cheeks, and delivered a short speech in French, which Henry couldn’t understand. He finished by exclaiming, “Quel jeune homme magnifique—such a boy this is!”
“Come, Henry.” Worthy gestured to the boy. They left the kitchen and walked through the dining rooms. Before they circled to the entrance hall, Worthy felt compelled to make a short speech of his own. “Henry…I suppose you’ve heard that a gentleman always behaves with discretion. Especially when it comes to discussing matters of, er…activity with the fair sex.”
“Yes,” Henry said in a perplexed manner. He stared up at Worthy with a slight frown. “Does that mean I shouldn’t tell my brother about the girls Mr. Craven introduced me to last night?”
“Unless…you feel there is a particular reason for him to know?”
Henry shook his head. “I can’t think of a single reason.”
“Good.” Worthy gave a great sigh of relief.
Contrary to Henry’s expectations, Alex was not wearing a thunderous scowl. Actually he seemed rather calm as he stood in the entrance hall, his hands shoved casually in the pockets of his coat. His clothes were rumpled and his face was covered with heavy stubble. Henry wasn’t accustomed to seeing his brother in such disarray. But strangely, Alex looked more relaxed than he had in a long time. There was something rather unsettling about his eyes, a gleam of silver fire, and a devil-may-care expression on his face. Henry frowned, wondering what had happened to him. And why he had appeared this morning, instead of arriving to take him back home last night.
“Alex,” he said, “it was all my fault. I should never have gone without telling you, but I—”
Alex took him by the shoulders, surveying him critically. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I had a splendid supper last night. I learned to play cribbage with Mr. Craven. I went to bed early.”
Assured of his well-being, Alex gave him a piercing stare. “We’re going to have a talk, Henry. About responsibility.”
The boy nodded dutifully, perceiving that it was going to be a long ride home.
“My lord,” Worthy interjected, “on behalf of Mr. Craven and our staff, I would like to say that your brother is an exceptionally well-mannered lad. I have never seen Mr. Craven—not to mention our temperamental chef—so charmed by one person.”
“It’s a God-given talent. Henry mastered the art of flattery at a young age.” Alex glanced at his younger brother, who wore a sheepish smile, and then back at the factotum. “Worthy, is Miss Lawson here?”
“No, my lord.”
Alex wondered if he were lying. Lily might be in Craven’s bed right now. He felt a stab of possessive jealousy. “Then where might I expect to find her?”
“I would expect Miss Lawson to be here for the next few nights, my lord, either in the card rooms or at the hazard table. Certainly she’ll be in attendance at our masked assembly on Saturday.” Worthy lifted his brows and peered at him through his round spectacles. “Shall I give her a message, my lord?”
“Yes. Tell her to be prepared for the next round.” With that ominous statement, Alex bid the factotum good-bye and strode out of Craven’s, Henry trotting close at his heels.
When Alex arrived at Raiford Park and strode into the mansion, he was immediately aware of the quiet alarm that permeated the air.
Henry was also sensitive to the invisible cloud of gloom. Wonderingly he looked around the silent house. “It feels like someone died!”
The sounds of subdued sniffling heralded the appearance of Totty Lawson. She crept down the grand staircase, her cherubic face drawn tight with dismay. She looked at Alex as though she suspected he might rush forward and do her bodily harm. “M-my lord,” she quavered, and burst into tears. “She’s gone! My darling Penny is gone! Don’t blame my poor innocent child, the fault is mine. All rec-recriminations should be laid solely at my feet! Oh, dear, oh dear…”
A comical mixture of dismay and alarm crossed Alex’s features. “Mrs. Lawson…” He searched his pockets for a handkerchief. He glanced at Henry, who shrugged helplessly.
“Should I get her some water?” Henry asked sotto voce.
“Tea,” Totty sobbed. “Strong tea, with a splash of milk. And a touch of sugar. Just a touch, mind you.” As Henry scurried away, Totty continued her hiccuping soliloquy. “Oh, what am I to do?…I think I’ve g-gone a little mad! How shall I begin to explain…”
“No explanations are necessary.” Alex found a handkerchief and offered it to her. He patted her plump back in a clumsily soothing gesture. “I’m aware of the situation—Penelope, Zachary, the elopement, all of it. It’s too late to assign blame, Mrs. Lawson. Don’t distress yourself.”
“By the time I found the note and roused George to follow them they were long gone.” Totty blew her nose daintily. “Even now he is trying to locate them. Perhaps there is still time…”
“No.” He produced a benign smile. “Penelope was far too good for me. I assure you, Viscount Stamford will prove to be a worthier husband.”
“I don’t agree at all,” Totty said unhappily. “Oh, Lord Raiford, if only you had been here last night. I fear your absence may have encouraged them in this terrible folly.” Her round blue eyes, swimming with tears, pleaded for an explanation.
“I was…unavoidably detained,” Alex replied, rubbing his head ruefully.
“This has all been Wilhemina’s doing,” Totty fretted.
He looked at her intently. “How so?”
“If she hadn’t come here and put ideas into their heads…”
Suddenly Alex felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. “I believe the ideas were already there,” he said gently. “If we set aside our emotions, Mrs. Lawson, I think we might recognize that Penelope and Stamford are an ideally suited pair.”
“But Stamford is nothing compared to you!” Totty burst out impatiently, wiping her eyes. “And now…now you are no longer to be our son-in-law!”
“Apparently not.”
“Oh, my.” Totty sighed dejectedly. “With all my heart I wish…if only I had a third daughter to offer you!”
Alex stared at her blankly. Then he began to make an odd choking noise. Afraid he had succumbed to an apoplectic fit, Totty watched in horror as he sank down to the steps, sitting with his head clasped in his hands. His whole frame shook, and he breathed in ragged gasps. Gradually she realized he was laughing. Laughing. Her jaw dropped, her mouth forming a lopsided oval. “My lord?”
“God.” Alex nearly toppled over. “A third. No. Two is quite enough. Sweet Jesus. Lily’s worth ten if she’s worth anything!”
Totty regarded him with mounting alarm, clearly wondering if the turn of events had unhinged him. “Lord Raiford,” she said weakly, “I don’t think anyone would blame you for…forgetting yourself. However, I believe…I will take my tea in the parlor…a-and allow you some privacy.” She hurried away, her plump elbows churning like cogwheels.
“Thank you,” Alex managed to say, struggling to control himself. A few deep breaths and he was silent, though an open smile remained on his face. He wondered if he was all right. Oh, yes. There was a feeling of lightness inside him, a rampant surge of elation he couldn’t describe. It left him a little unsteady, restless, like a schoolboy on holiday. The feeling demanded action.
He was rid of Penelope. It was more than just a relief, it was a liberation. He hadn’t realized what a burden the engagement had been, an oppressive weight bearing down on him more heavily each day. Now it was gone. He was free. And Penelope was happy, at this moment probably in the arms of the man she loved. Lily, on the other hand, was completely unaware of what she’d started. Alex was filled with anticipation. He wasn’t through with Lily—oh, he hadn’t even begun with her.
“Alex?” Henry stood before him, looking at him closely. “They’ll bring tea from the kitchen soon.”
“Mrs. Lawson is in the parlor.”
“Alex…why are you sitting on the steps? Why do you look so…happy? And if you weren’t here last night, where were you?”
“As I recall, you have two appointments with potential tutors this afternoon. You could use a bath, Henry, as well as a change of clothes.” His eyes narrowed in warning. “And I’m not happy. I’m considering what to do with Miss Lawson.”
“The older one?”
“Naturally the older one.”
“What are you thinking of doing?” Henry asked.
“You’re not old enough to know.”
“Don’t be certain of that,” Henry said with a wink, and raced up the stairs before Alex could react.
Alex swore softly and grinned. He shook his head. “Lily Lawson,” he murmured. “One thing’s certain—you’ll be too busy with me to spend another night in Craven’s bed.”
Tonight was going just as last night had—dreadfully. Lily lost with grace and managed to preserve an air of confidence so that the men around her wouldn’t realize she was drowning right before their eyes. She was dressed in one of the most delectable gowns she owned, a garment of black embroidered net laid over a foundation of nude silk, giving the appearance that she was covered in little more than sheer black lace.
Standing at the hazard table with a group of dandies including Lord Tadworth, Lord Banstead, and Foka Berinkov, a handsome Russian diplomat, Lily wore a calm, cheerful expression like a mask. Her face felt like a mask, stiff and lifeless enough to peel off like so much paste and paper. Her chances of regaining Nicole were slipping through her fingers. She was hollow inside. If someone stabbed her, she wouldn’t even bleed. What is happening? she thought with panic. Her gambling had never been like this.
She was aware of Derek’s gaze on her as he moved about the room. His disapproval was unspoken, but she was aware of it nonetheless. Had Lily seen anyone else in her position, making such disastrous mistakes, she would have advised him to try again some other night. But she didn’t have time. There was only now and tomorrow. The thought of five thousand pounds nagged at her like so many sharp, tiny spurs. Fitz, the croupier, watched her actions without comment, his eyes not quite meeting hers. Lily knew she was playing too deep, too fast, taking senseless risks. Repeatedly she tried to catch herself, but it was too late. She was on the typical gambler’s slide—once started, impossible to stop.
Recklessly she flung the three dice on the felt-covered table with a brisk sweep of her hand. “Come, let’s have a triple!” Over and over the cubes rolled, until the numbers were up. One, two, six. Nothing. Her money was almost gone. “Well,” she said with a shrug, facing Banstead’s consoling smile, “I believe I’ll play on credit tonight.”
Suddenly Derek was at her side, his cool voice in her ear. “Come ’ave a walk first.”
“I’m playing,” she said softly.
“Not wivout money.” He snared her gloved wrist in his hand. Lily excused herself from the hazard table, smiling at the others and promising to return soon. Derek guided her forcibly to Worthy’s vacant desk, where they could talk with a measure of privacy.
“You interfering bastard,” Lily said through her teeth. She smiled so that it appeared they were having a pleasant conversation. “What do you mean, dragging me away from a game? And don’t you dare refuse me credit—I’ve played here on credit hundreds of times, and I’ve always won!”
“You lost the lucky touch,” Derek said flatly. “It’s gone.”
She felt as if he’d slapped her. “That’s not true. There’s no such thing as luck. It’s numbers, a knowledge of numbers and chance—”
“Call it whatewer you wants. It’s gone.”
“It’s not. I’ll go back to the table and prove it to you.”
“You’ll only lose.”
“Then let me lose,” she said with desperate anger. “What do you think you’re doing?…Trying to protect me? Is this a right you’ve recently bestowed on yourself? To hell with you! I have to win five thousand pounds, or I’ll lose Nicole for good!”
“An’ if you lose more tonight?” Derek asked coldly.
Lily knew there was no need for her to answer. He was well aware of her only choice—to sell her body to the highest bidder. “You’ll get your bloody money. Or your pound of flesh. Whatever appeals to you most. Nothing matters to me but my daughter, don’t you understand?”
All at once Derek’s accent was pristinely perfect. “She doesn’t need a whore for a mother.”
“Let fate decide,” Lily said tautly. “That’s your philosophy. Isn’t it?”
Derek was stonily silent, his eyes like chips of jade. Then he produced a mocking bow and a smile, setting her free. Suddenly Lily felt lost, adrift, as she had on that night two years ago, before Derek had allowed her into the club. He was as fascinating and changeable as the tide, but once more she realized she couldn’t lean on him. One small part of her had always hoped that he would be there to help her when she reached the end of her luck. Now that hope was gone for good. She couldn’t blame Derek for being what he was. She was on her own, as she had always been. Turning her back on him, she walked away quickly, her skirts whipping around her ankles.
As she reached the hazard table, she pasted a smile on her face. “Gentlemen, please excuse the interruption. Now where—” She stopped with a gasp as she saw the new addition to the gathering.
Alex lounged at the table with the others. He was dressed in black pantaloons, an embroidered silk waistcoat, and a dull green coat with gold buttons that emphasized his tawny coloring. He gave her a slow, easy smile. Her senses sparked with awareness. He looked different than usual. Even in Alex’s best, most impressive tempers, there had always been something a little wooden about him, some part of himself that was always kept in reserve. Now the reserve was gone. It seemed as if he were lit with an inner golden blaze. Lily had seen gamblers wearing that same look on a lucky tear, carelessly risking entire fortunes.
Her spirits sank even lower than before. She had known she would eventually have to confront him—but why now? First losing her money, then Derek’s desertion, now this. It was rapidly shaping into one of the worst nights of her life. Wearily she picked up the gauntlet. “Lord Raiford. How unexpected. This isn’t your preferred sort of haunt, is it?”