The challenge was to understand what cards your partner held and how to use them, and yours, to the greatest advantage. Skill was involved, but more important was paying attention to the cards as they were played.
Gwendolyn had been born with an almost uncanny ability to remember cards, numbers, people, and ideas. It was her gift.
She now used it. She quickly assessed that Mrs. Newsome was not a skilled or even interested player. She had no intention of besting her cousin in cards.
On the other hand, Lady Orpington was an enthusiastic player. She also liked to win, and she had the knowledge of two card hands since she was playing her own partner.
However, her eagerness to win was her downfall.
In contrast, Gwendolyn noted the cards being played. She knew her ladyship was not playing anything that she believed would give her opponents an advantage in the points.
That was fine. After allowing Lady Orpington to take two tricks, Gwendolyn believed she’d gained a good idea of what cards were still left to be played among all four hands. She and Mrs. Newsome began taking tricks.
They won the game with higher points. Mrs. Newsome behaved as if she’d never bested her cousin before.
“Again,” Lady Orpington said. “Only this time, I shall play with Vera.”
So Gwendolyn had two hands of cards.
She won handily.
Lady Orpington kept them playing, sharing Mrs. Newsome as a partner back and forth between them. Her ladyship won a few games. The wins gave Gwendolyn insight into how her mind worked. Lady Orpington did have a good understanding of strategy.
Nor had Mr. Steele been wrong in his assessment. She and Lady Orpington were excellent whist partners.
Her ladyship said as much at the end of the eighth game. “We can do this,” she said to Gwendolyn. “You and I can defeat Franny and whomever she brings against us.” She looked down at the neatly laid out tricks on the table. “You might even be a better player than Charles was.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Gwendolyn now understood what high praise that was from his widow.
Lady Orpington stood and rang a bell. The butler opened the door. “Have this cleared up. Bring in Magpie, and I would like to see Mr. Curran.”
The man bowed and left the room. A beat later, footmen entered and removed the gaming table, but not the cards. Gwendolyn noticed that Lady Orpington returned them herself to their inlaid box.
Once the table was cleared, Gwendolyn heard the complaining whines of an upset dog in the hall. The door opened, and Magpie camepadding in, her little head high as if she had suffered a grave insult.
And right behind her came, not a Mr. Curran, but Mr. Steele.
Time stopped at the sight of him.
He appeared different than she had ever seen him. He appeared the very image of a Corinthian, handsome, broad-shouldered, commanding. Instead of his usual black, a bottle-green jacket was pulled snug across his broad shoulders. Buff leather riding breeches clung to the thighs of a horseman, while his boots, sporting a single spur in manly fashion, shone with the gloss of a champagne blacking that only the most expert valet could achieve.
He’d even cut his hair. It no longer brushed his collar. Instead, his dark curls with the light smattering of gray gave him the air of a poet, and yet there was still that sense he was untamed. Every dandy on the street would have eagerly aped his manner of casual, very masculine elegance.
Thankfully Gwendolyn was sitting, or else she would have been tempted to run up to him like an infatuated girl fresh from the schoolroom. She squeezed her trembling hands into fists. Yearning tightened inside her the way it did whenever he was near.
She prayed she did not give herself away... and yet she could not stop smiling.
Lady Orpington lifted Magpie beside her on the lounge. “Nicholas, you are right about Miss Lanscarr. She is exactly who I need.” She spoke to Mr. Steele.
“I did not think she would disappoint,” he responded with lazy good humor. His voice rolled through Gwendolyn like thick honey. His faint praise was just as sweet.
“Miss Lanscarr, this is my nephew, Nicholas Curran.”
He bowed politely on cue... just as someone she did not know would behave. “Miss Lanscarr.”
Gwendolyn tried to gather her scattered wits.Nicholas?And the surname was Curran, no?
But thiswasMr. Steele. A well-shaved version, but Mr. Steele all the same. The erratic beat of her pulse proved it.
