The Duke’s hand was not so good this time: very few clubs but ace and queen of hearts and ace of spades, and a long string of diamonds. He and Leo collected the first three tricks; Sir James took the fourth with the king of spades. He considered his hand, then reached for his brandy, and frowned. ‘Is this cracked?’
‘Is it?’ Lady Wintour came forward. ‘Where?’
‘My mistake. I thought I saw a crack.’ He held it to the light, then gave a smiling shrug. ‘Merely a mark. My eyes fail me.’
Whatever part of that was their code didn’t appear in Eliza’s list. Cassian thought he could make a guess, though: Vier was asking for instruction in what to lead. And, indeed, Sir Francis said, ‘Allow me to refresh your glass, Severn.’Allow: the code forPlay a diamond.
Sir James looked at his hand a moment longer, then led the six of diamonds. Leo played the ace. Sir Francis dropped the three of clubs on the table, trumping it.
‘Ha!’ he said with the mild satisfaction of a fortunate man, and put out his hand to collect the trick.
Sir John Hartlebury leaned in and slapped his hand on Plath’s arm, holding it to the table.
‘What—!’
‘That will do, I think,’ Hartlebury said in a low, savage rumble. ‘Evangeline?’
‘It will undoubtedly do.’ Lady Wintour’s voice was edged like a razor. ‘Turn up your hands, gentlemen, Your Grace. I said, handsup.’
She turned over the trick on the table, showing the fourcards. The Duke spread his remaining hand on the table, heart thudding. Leo did the same, as did Sir James, revealing a disappointing set of cards. His face was bland and unmoved but Cassian thought his skin looked rather waxy.
‘Sir James,’ Lady Wintour said. ‘You had king, six, three in diamonds. Do you care to tell us why you led the six?’
‘Why should I not?’
‘Try again,’ she said. ‘Now.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Hearts and spades have both been played; clubs are trumps; I thought my poverty in diamonds might mean my partner’s strength. A matter of probability. I took a chance.’
‘Probability, my arse. Posterior,’ she amended with a glance at Cassian. ‘You underled a king!’
‘Should I have led the king instead, with the ace as yet unplayed?’
‘You shouldn’t have led a diamond at all, with those cards,’ she said. ‘But you did. And we all know why.’
She slapped a piece of paper on the table. It had a hollow-cut at the centre: Sir John Hartlebury’s highly distinctive profile leapt to life, revealed by the white paper against dark wood. There were a couple of chuckles, but only a couple, because the paper was not otherwise blank. It also held quite a lot of neat writing, headed, in large letters: VIER AND PLATH CHEAT. READ THIS. KEEP SILENCE. DON’T SHOW THEM YOU KNOW.
Miss Beaumont had an excellent, very legible hand. She had written out the code some thirty laborious times, leaving a space at the centre of each sheet for Daizell to cut a profile. He’d been passing the sheets out to the spectators under Vier’s nose all evening.
‘Allow’: play a diamond. ‘Come’: play a spade. . .
Sir James picked up the paper, frowning. ‘What does this mean?’
‘Don’t waste my time,’ Lady Wintour snapped. ‘We have all heard each of you use these words a dozen times this evening. We’ve all seen what you played in response.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’ demanded a man named Tallant, a well-known gamester. ‘I lost two thousand to you not two months back!’
‘I lost three,’ Leo said, and there were other comments to similar effect.
‘Their luck certainly has been in for a long time,’ Lord Myers said. ‘How did you spot this, sir? Mr Charnage, is it? You have done gentlemen a great service with this.’ He brandished another sheet of paper with its neat writing and hollow cut. ‘Most ingenious, I must say. Wouldn’t have believed it otherwise.’
‘These are lies!’ Vier snapped. ‘Charnage’s lies! His father murdered my dear friend Haddon and robbed me—’
‘What has that to do with you cheating at cards?’ the Duke asked.
‘He is a liar and a pornographer, a rogue and fortune hunter—’
‘You cheated my father!’ Daizell shouted. ‘You and Henry Haddon took him for everything he had! The reason he robbed you and shot Haddon is that the pair of you had ruined him! And you didn’t let Haddon’s death stop you, did you? You merely acquired Plath as partner, and kept on cheating, and lying, and stealing, you wretched sharper!’
