“Good day, Miss Marwick. Tell that brother of yours I look forward to seeing him later.”
Alice watched him go, dangerous sensations stirring beneath her skin as she admired his long, easy stride, his powerful physique, all broad shoulders and masculine grace. It was just envy, she assured herself. Alfie envied him his power in the world, how effortlessly doors opened, and people leapt to do his bidding, that was all.
You are such a liar,whispered a little voice in Alice’s head, making her heart skip.
Chapter 5
A Tell in Every Hand
The Swan, Little Valentine, 8thJanuary 1816
Aubrey turned his collar up as he rounded the corner towards The Swan, and an icy gust of wind sliced through his thick coat. Damn, but it was perishing cold. He regretted his impulse to walk when he might have ordered the carriage, but it had seemed so idle of him for such a short distance. Besides, he’d hoped the fresh air might clear his mind after his meeting with Miss Marwick.
Your mind needs no clearing,he assured himself, though he’d been saying the same thing for hours now. Yet the woman bothered him and he did not know why.
Yes you do, you sly dog, so don’t play that card, remarked the snide voice of his conscience. Well, all right, there wasthat. She was intriguing, and he was more than a little interested in her. Though not what one could call a beauty, Miss Marwick was undoubtedly the most fascinating woman he had ever met. Sharp and sweet by turns, he never knew what she would say next, and he had the growing sense that what one saw was the tip of the iceberg, and only what Miss Marwick wished to be seen.
Every time he felt he had a sense of who she was, she would withdraw and become prickly, as if punishing him for having discovered something she’d not wished him to know. But what that might be he could not fathom, for she was hardly forthcoming.
Aubrey pushed open the door to the pub and strode in, relishing the thick fug of warmth, tobacco smoke and the scent of ale and fried potatoes. He found Alfie Marwick sitting at a quiet table in the far corner of the room, out of the main thoroughfare and apart from most of the other drinkers. He had a glass of ale before him and nodded a greeting as Aubrey approached and offered him a smile.
“Mr Marwick. How do you do?”
“It’s Alfie, no need to stand on ceremony. What are you drinking?”
“I’ll see to it,” Aubrey said, catching the barman’s eye and ordering the same as Alfie. He tugged off his coat and threw it over the back of a chair, fishing in the pocket for the deck of cards he’d brought. Throwing them down on the table, he sat opposite Alfie.
“Well, what are we playing?”
“Piquet?” the young shaver said with a shrug.
“Perfect,” Aubrey agreed, for it was a game he excelled at, and he doubted the young man could beat him, no matter his sister’s warning. “Loser buys the next round.”
“Ooh, grandma, we are living dangerously tonight,” Alfie said with a smirk as he lifted his drink and took a sip. His gaze then fell to Aubrey’s waistcoat, an elegant creation in dark red with gold embroidery. It was one of Aubrey’s favourites; he had a penchant for colour and things that were a little out of the ordinary. “A bold choice,” the lad added, the words choked as he tried not to laugh.
Aubrey eyed him with amusement, refusing to allow the brat to get a rise out of him. Miss Marwick’s insistence that they were safe and comfortable had somehow given him the distinctimpression that their lives were more precarious than either of them would let on. Though he told himself that it was none of his business in the first place, and there was nothing he could do about it in the second, he wasn’t about to win money from someone who could ill afford to lose it. Especially not when they’d just handed him over a diamond brooch that would have seen them secure for at least a decade, if not a good deal longer, without a murmur.
The improbability of that nagged at him. If Alfie was half as wise as he made out he was, he would have demanded money for the jewel’s safe return. Wouldn’t he? Maybe. Maybe not, if his sister was trying to establish herself in this town and make friends. Avoiding a scandal might be worth any price.
They settled down to their game and Aubrey put his worries to one side, entertained by Alfie’s irrepressible grin, his easy manner. Did he seem just a little too relaxed?
Alfie played recklessly and with flair, bluffing and teasing Aubrey until he hardly knew what to make of him. All the while his grey eyes, eyes so like his sister's, blazed with mischief, clearly delighting in his own cleverness as he lived up to Miss Marwick’s warning. Despite his pride taking something of a battering, Aubrey found himself torn between amusement and something else, a disquieting notion that he was being had over.
It was a like waking suddenly from the bright colours of a dream as they turned to smoke, the harder you tried to grasp hold of the images, of what they meant, the quicker they slipped away.
“You play well,” Aubrey remarked dryly as Alfie took the final trick.
“I play exceptionally well,” Alfie amended with an arrogant grin, all challenge and charm.
Aubrey returned the smile but that nagging sense of something not being as it ought to be gnawed at him. He’d swear the lad wasn’t cheating and certainly did not wish to think that of him. No, he’d won fair and square, albeit with a deal of gamesmanship, but nothing untoward.
He looked around and caught the barman’s eye, ordering another round.
“Well, now you know you are not playing a greenhorn, what about a proper wager?” Alfie waggled his eyebrows at him, leaning back as she shuffled the cards.
“What did you have in mind?”
“A guinea.”
