“Perhaps later,” Bertie agreed with his daughter, an apology written in his smile. “Once the season is ended.”
“Of course.” Mr. Linden returned his attention to the greens on his plate and was a bit quieter for the rest of the meal.
After they’d had their dessert of cherries and cream, and the men had retired to smoke for a short time and discuss whatever it was they discussed when no ladies were in earshot, they all reconvened in the drawing room.
Cecily hopped down on the divan in the center of their circle. “What game shall we play?”
“Play?” Jane inclined her head. “We could simply talk.”
“Games give one something interesting to talkabout. Be a bit more diverting.”
More diverting, indeed. She was half-tempted to tell them all what she’d been up to these past two days with Eli. No one would think her dull then.
On the other hand, she’d be forced to marry him, and Cecily would spend the rest of her days reminding her that no one liked an encore as much as the original show. No, that wouldn’t do. The most diverting thing she’d ever done would have to remain a secret from all but Della.
“Let’s play something for forfeits,” Cecily continued.
Jane suppressed a groan. Not forfeits. They were Cecily’s favorite, almost certainly because she could always find a way to put all the attention on herself.
“Isn’t that more appropriate for a different set?” she tried.
“Janedisapprovesof forfeits,” Cecily said too loudly. “She thinks they’re just an excuse for everyone to kiss.”
“She isn’t wrong, though, is she?” observed Mr. Linden with a chuckle.
Jane favored him with a smile.Dear Mr. Linden.
“They aren’talwaysabout kissing,” Cecily protested. “We can make them whatever we want. Don’t be such a wet blanket, Jane.”
Again with this insult. She itched to teach Cecily a lesson. Something to put her in her place.
“Very well,” she relented. “Let’s play for forfeits. The game will be vingt-et-un.”
That would show her. In a few hands, she’d have beaten Cecily and would have the right to make her do whatever she wanted.
Not speaking for the rest of the visit, perhaps. Or dunking her head in a cold basin.
But Cecily merely arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you think you’ll have an advantage over us, what with all the practice you get at your club.”
She cast Jane a haughty look before turning her attention toward her father. Her intentions were clear—she’d never been able to pass up a chance to tattle to Uncle Bertie.
Jane was too shocked to utter a word.How could she have found out?She and Della were careful never to talk about their work openly.
“What club?” Bertie pressed, looking from his niece to his daughter. “What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing, Uncle.” Jane tried to stave off the disaster that Cecily had brought down upon her head. “You know I play cards with a few friends on Monday evenings—”
“Friends like Lady Eleanor Grosvenor?” Cecily cut in, undeterred. “I hear she lost four pounds last week. It seems you and Miss Danby don’t limit your guests to penny wagers.”
“Is this true?” asked Hannah. “How exciting! Jane, why didn’t you say? May I come?”
“You may not!” her mother replied, looking scandalized. “Losing four pounds in a single night? That’s not the sort of behavior gentlemen look for in a wife, Hannah.”
This censure from a respectable matron of the ton struck the final nail in Jane’s coffin. Uncle Bertie assumed a frown, so unpracticed that it looked like it had wandered there from some sterner man’s face by mistake. “I’m surprised at you, Jane. People can lose entire fortunes gambling. You know better than to risk your future this way.”
Horrid Cecily.
“It’s not really gambling, Uncle. If you adopt a consistent strategy based on the odds, you’ll always win over a long enough string of hands.”
