“You must know that all doors are open to the rich Mr Ravenscar—particularly such doors as this.”
“Make it plain, then, to your henchman, or you may have a brawl upon your doorstep.”
“Ah, Silas is too knowing a one! Only law-officers and their spies are refused admittance here, and he would smell one at sixty paces.”
“What a valuable acquisition he must be to you!”
“It would be impossible to imagine an existence without him. He was my father’s sergeant. I have known him from my cradle.”
“Your father was a military man?” said Mr Ravenscar, slightly raising his brows.
“Yes, at one time.”
“And then?”
“You are curious again, Mr Ravenscar?”
“Very.”
“He was a gamester. It runs in the blood, you observe.”
“That would account for your presence here, of course.”
“Oh, I have been familiar with gaming-houses from my childhood up! I can tell a Greek, or a Captain Sharp, within ten minutes of his entering the room; I could play the groom porter for you, or deal for a faro-bank; I can detect a bale of flat conquer deuces as quickly as you could yourself; and the man who can fuzz the cards when I am at the table don’t exist.”
“You astonish me, Miss Grantham. You are indeed accomplished!”
“No,” she said seriously. “It is my business to know those things. I have no accomplishments. I do not sing, or play upon the pianoforte, or paint in water-colours. Those are accomplishments.”
“True,” he agreed. “But why repine? In certain circles they may be de rigueur, but they would be of very little use to you here, I imagine. You were wise to waste no time on such fripperies: you are already perfect for your setting, ma’am.”
“For my setting!” she repeated, flushing a little. “The devil! Your cousin is more complimentary!”
“Yes, I daresay he is,” replied Ravenscar, refilling her wineglass. “My cousin is very young and impressionable.”
“I am sure you, sir, are certainly not impressionable.”
“Not a bit,” he said cheerfully. “But I am perfectly ready to pay you any number of compliments, if that is what you wish.”
She bit her lip, saying, after a moment, with a suggestion of pique in her voice: “I don’t wish it at all.”
“In that cast,” said Ravenscar, “I feel that we shall deal extremely together. Do you play piquet?”
“Certainly.”
“Ah, but I mean do you play well enough to engage in a rubber with me?”
Miss Grantham eyed him with considerable hostility. “I am thought,” she said coldly, “to have a reasonably good understanding.”
“So have many others I could name, but that does not make them good card-players.”
Miss Grantham sat very straight in her chair. Her magnificent eyes flashed. “My skill at cards, Mr Ravenscar, has never yet been called in question!”
“But you have not played with me yet,” he pointed out.
“That is something that can be mended!” she retorted.
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you dare, Miss Grantham?”
She gave a scornful laugh. “Dare! I? I will meet you when you choose, Mr Ravenscar, the stakes to be fixed by yourself!”
“Then let it be tonight,” he said promptly.
“Let it be at once!” she said, rising from her chair. He too rose, and offered his arm. His countenance was perfectly grave, but she had the impression that he was secretly laughing at her.
On the staircase they met Lord Mablethorpe, on his way down to supper. His face fell when he saw Miss Grantham. He exclaimed: “You have not finished supper already! I made sure of finding you in the dining-room! Oh, do come back, Deb! Come and drink a glass of wine with me!”
“You are too late,” said Ravenscar. “Miss Grantham is promised to me for the next hour.”
“For the next hour! Oh, come now, Max, that’s too bad! You are quizzing me!”
“Nothing of the sort: we are going to play a rubber or two of piquet.”
Adrian laughed. “Oh, poor Deb! Don’t play with him: he’ll fleece you shamefully!”
“If he does, I have a strong notion that it will rather be shamelessly!” Miss Grantham smiled.
“Indeed it will! There is not an ounce of chivalry in my cousin. I wish you will have nothing to do with him! Besides, it is so dull to be playing piquet all night! What is to become of me?”
“Why, if E.O. holds no charms for you, you may come presently and see how I am faring at your cousin’s hands.”
“I shall come to rescue you,” he promised.
She laughed, and passed on up the stairs to the gaming saloons. In the larger room, one or two small tables were set out; Miss Grantham led the way to one of these, and called to a waiter for cards. She looked speculatively at Ravenscar, as he seated himself opposite to her; his eyes met hers, and some gleam of mockery in them convinced her that he had been laughing at her. “You are the strangest man!” she said, in her frank way. “Why did you talk so to me?”
“To whet your curiosity,” he responded, with equal frankness.
“Good God, to what end, pray?”
“To make you play cards with me. You have so many noble admirers, ma’am, who pay you such assiduous court, that I could not suppose that a conciliating address would answer my purpose.”
“So you were rude to me, and rough! Upon my word, I do not know what you deserve, Mr Ravenscar!”
He turned to pick up the piquet-packs the waiter was offering him on a tray, and laid some card-money down in their place. “To be plucked, undoubtedly. What stakes do you like to play for, Miss Grantham?”
“You will recall, sir, that the decision was to rest with you.”
“Well,” he said, “let us make it ten shillings a point, since this is a mere friendly bout.”
Her eyes widened a little, for this was playing deep, but she said coolly: “What you will, sir. If you are satisfied, it is not for me to cavil.”
“What humility, Miss Grantham?” he said, shuffling one of the packs. “If you should find it insipid, we can always double the stakes.”
Miss Grantham agreed to it, and in a moment of bravado suggested that they should play for twenty-five pounds the rubber, in addition. On these terms they settled down to the game, the lady with her nerves on the stretch, the gentleman abominably casual.
It was soon seen that Mr Ravenscar was a much more experienced player than his opponent; his calculation of the odds was very nice; he played his cards well; and had a disconcerting trick of summing up Miss Grantham’s hands with sufficient accuracy to make him a very formidable adversary. She went down on the first rubber, but not heavily, taking him to three games. He agreed that the balance of the luck had been with him.
“I’m emboldened to think you don’t find my play contemptible, at all events,” Miss Grantham said.
“Oh, by no means!” he replied. “Your play is good, for a lady. You are weakest in your discards.”
Miss Grantham cut the pack towards him with something of a snap.
In the middle of the third rubber, Lord Mablethorpe came back into the saloon, and made his way to Miss Grantham’s side. “Are you ruined yet, Deb?” he asked, smiling warmly down at her.
“No such thing! We have lost a rubber apiece, and this one is to decide the issue. Hush, now! I am very much on my mettle, and can’t be distracted.”
He drew up a frail, gilded chair, and sat down astride it, resting his arms on the back. “You said I might watch you!”
“So you may, and bring me good fortune, I hope. Your point is good, Mr Ravenscar.”
“Also my quint, Miss Grantham?”
“That also.”
“Very well, then; a quint, a tierce, fourteen aces, three kings, and eleven cards played, ma’am.”
Miss Grantham cast a frowning glance at the galaxy of court cards which Ravenscar spread before her eyes, and a very dubious glance at the back of the one card remaining in his hand. “Oh, the deuce! All hangs upon this, and I swear there’s nothing to tell me what I should keep!”