The Christmas Strike. Nikki Rivers
they like in here. Vingt-et-un and other games involving many participants are played at the large table, piquet, cribbage, dominoes and dice at the smaller ones.
“That book there,” he went on, pointing to a leather-bound ledger-like article, “records all the non-gaming bets and the stakes laid between members. Gentlemen will wager on anything under the sun, as you must know. But once a bet is recorded in there, no gentleman can deny its existence or refuse to honour the debt. I do not make the book,” he observed mildly. “I merely keep the record.”
“Has anyone,” asked Leonora fiercely, “ever lost their inheritance in here? Gambled away the deeds of their property?”
Kelsey’s face remained inscrutable. “Would you like to be the first to do so, Miss Vincent?” he asked amiably.
“You are unbelievable, my lord!” cried Leonora. “You are suggesting that I should bet my ownership of this property on the winning of a game of cards? What, may I ask, would be my reward should I win?”
“I should set my lease against your deeds,” responded his lordship imperturbably.
“Ha!” exclaimed Leonora. “And both of us are very sure that you would win! No, my lord, you cannot bamboozle me in that fashion! I was not born yesterday!”
“No,” he agreed, his gaze considering. “You are certainly not in the first flush of youth, Miss Vincent.”
Her choke of shocked outrage and Clarissa’s surprised gasp almost overset him. Lights danced in the dark eyes and his mouth gave an involuntary twitch. Leonora was too angry to notice.
“You are no gentleman, sir!” she managed to gasp.
“But then, madam, you do not behave like a lady,” came the instant riposte. He bowed languidly and gave her a lazy smile. “May we not call a truce while you inspect the last room over which I have temporary dominion? May I show you the office?”
“You may show me the office, my lord, but I do not accept your truce. I shall proceed to my lawyer’s rooms immediately after breakfast.”
“That will be your privilege, madam.” He sounded not in the least perturbed.
She scarcely looked at the small room above the entrance hall, where an elderly clerk sat on a tall stool working at a sloping desk surrounded by shelves and strong-boxes. She could not escape Kelsey’s presence soon enough. She flounced off up the narrowed stairs, her front-door key conspicuous in her hand, with Clarissa following meekly behind.
And did not see the amused, reluctant admiration with which Blaise Dancer, Earl of Kelsey, watched her undoubtedly attractive posterior disappear from his view.
Chapter Three
Despite her fury, Leonora managed to consume two soft-boiled eggs and several crusty white rolls spread with butter, and to drink two cups of coffee. Anger made her hungry and the food was delicious.
“An excellent repast,” offered Clarissa as she, too, pushed her plate aside. She had broken her fast with kidneys and bacon.
“Yes.” Leonora was in no mood to be fulsome over anything which had its origins in Kelsey’s management. “Can you be ready to go out in half an hour?”
“I am ready now, except for my bonnet and cloak. Shall you take a sedan chair? I believe there is a rank nearby. Dolly should be able to find it.”
“Not this morning,” Leonora decided. “Mr Coggan’s chambers in High Street cannot be far away and I should like to see something of the town.”
“Oh, so should I,” cried Clarissa, her pale eyes shining. “I am so grateful to you for bringing me here, Leonora! The very atmosphere makes me feel quite young and giddy!”
“Does it?” So far, Leonora had not felt either young or giddy but that was because of the infamous use to which the Earl of Kelsey was putting her property. The only feelings she had known were those of uncomfortable awareness of his lordship’s personal charm and frustration and anger at his attitude. And utter mortification that he should think her old.
Mortification brought a lowering sense of unease to her entire being and she could feel a flush rising up her neck when she remembered his look and words. She would hazard a guess that she was several years younger than he was. But then, he was a man. He did not have to fear that his child-bearing years were dwindling with depressing rapidity.
She must make her utmost endeavours to have his lordship evicted. She jumped to her feet. “If you are ready, then we may leave immediately,” she declared. “Dolly, my bonnet, my cloak, gloves and muff if you please.”
She, like Clarissa, already wore her pelisse, for the morning was chilly and the fires had not yet had time to make the rooms warm.
Dolly dropped the dishes she was clearing with a clatter and rushed out, hurrying along the landing to the dressing room. Leonora followed her, shivering slightly at leaving even the comparative warmth of the dining room. She glanced quickly into the rather mottled mirror above her uncle’s dressing chest—she must do something about mirrors as soon as possible—as Dolly handed her her bonnet, and examined her features as best she could.
She undoubtedly lacked the fresh bloom of real youth, the bloom she had possessed at eighteen when her parents had died. But she did not look old.
He had not said that she did. He had only spoken the truth in such a way as to imply it. Devil take the man! Her soft mouth tightened as she determinedly thrust all thought of Lord Kelsey behind her. She did not have to think about him to arrange the termination of a lease.
With her outer garments on, she bobbed about and stood on tiptoe to see as much of herself as she could.
Depression settled in. No wonder the man was so scathing about her appearance. She looked every inch what she had been—a governess. She would never engage the attentions of a suitable gentleman of means dressed as she was. The second thing she must do was to buy some new clothes. Mr Coggan would know about her money, though she would doubtless be able to purchase what she needed on credit.
She passed through the comparative warmth of her bedroom to pick up her reticule and emerged on the chilly landing to find Clarissa waiting.
“You know what to do, Dolly,” said Leonora to her hovering maid. “Take the dirty breakfast things downstairs to the scullery and then come back and clean the rooms. Remember, we found the brooms and dusters in there.” She indicated the dark oak cupboard standing on the landing. “Have your dinner with the rest of the staff. I shall not trouble Monsieur André on the way out.”
She did not wish to make a production of her use of the back entrance but to slip out, as far as possible, unseen. “Tell him that I shall dine at four o’clock,” she went on. “If there is mutton I should like that, but otherwise whatever is available. I cannot fuss over what we shall eat today. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, miss,” said Dolly fervently.
She was devoted and willing and not the most able girl she had ever dealt with, but Leonora liked her and appreciated the effort the child made to please.
“By the way,” she said as an afterthought, turning back with her hand already on the knob of the door to the back stairs, “is your bed comfortable? You slept well?”
“The room’s lovely, miss, such a nice view as I’ve got, over the trees. I slept like a log.”
“Capital,” said Leonora with a smile. “I’ll leave you, then. Don’t forget to keep the fires stoked.”
“No, miss,” said Dolly with another bob.
Having descended the stairs, the two ladies passed through the scullery without speaking to the cook, who was busy at the far end of the kitchen.
Leonora’s only real disappointment in the actual property she had inherited was its lack of a garden, but