Page 45 of A Figure of Love

He gave her a wicked leer as he dealt the first round of cards. “Do you need a model to commence your work, by any chance?”

She slid Lockheart a look and saw he finally appeared interested.

“Are you volunteering your services, Mr. McElroy?”

“I would not be averse to donating my time—in the interest of art, of course.”

She tilted her head and studied him with exaggerated care. “Yes,” she said after a long pause, “I think you would be perfect.”

He preened, shooting his friend a not-so-subtle look of triumph. “I understand it is to be a classical piece. Perhaps Apollo? Or maybe Bacchus?”

She lifted the bottom card up enough to see it: an ace, and then gave him a sweet smile. “Actually, it is to be a rendering of Judith beheading Holofernes.”

The expression on his face was priceless, but not as priceless as Mr. Lockheart’s reaction. He threw back his head and laughed, the sound deep and rich and utterly enchanting for being so extremely rare. He looked . . . radiant, like a younger man. and Serena could not tear her eyes away.

McElroy gave him a wry smile, taking his friend’s laughter with unexpected good grace.

“I suppose I deserved that.”

Lockheart nodded and wiped his eyes. “Yes, I suppose you did, Dec.”

The look the Irishman gave Serena was, for the first time, one of respect.

∞∞∞

The only reason Gareth was tolerating Dec’s behavior was because he wanted to see where he was leading.

Actually, that was a lie. He was also far too fascinated by Mrs. Lombard to leave her alone in the infamous rake’s company. It had been Gareth’s experience that women could not resist the big, charming Irishman; the thought of Mrs. Lombard being unable to resist Declan displeased him.

Since returning from London, he’d felt an odd, enhanced awareness of her that felt almost instinctual. He knew animals sensed each other that way but had never expected such heightened sensitivity of himself. It was invigorating and enervating at the same time. It led to lots of sessions in his private boxing arena. And right now it was making him think of going a few rounds with his best friend.

Declan knew how much he hated cards and he certainly knew how much he hated to be reminded of the part such games had played in his life. Cards were pain, and his friend was not usually so cruel as to rub it in his face. So why he’d orchestrated this evening was a mystery. Gareth supposed he should have asked him earlier in the day exactly why he did not trust Mrs. Lombard. But he’d not wanted to give him what he’d been seeking: a dust up. Yes, he recognized when Declan was spoiling for an argument or fight and he refused to indulge him.

Some of the tension in the room dissipated after Mrs. Lombard’s master stroke about her sculpture and the subsequent hands passed without incident.

When Dec got to the last six or seven cards he spread them out face down on the table.

“Not enough for a hand,” he said, “but there are other games.” His eyes slid from hers to Gareth’s and back. “Do you know what these cards are, Mrs. Lombard?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know what is hidden, which cards were not played?”

Her forehead wrinkled in a manner that charmed Gareth. He had noticed that happening quite a bit of late: finding even her smallest mannerisms and characteristics charming. She shook her head after considering Dec’s question. “No, I do not know—how could I?”

Gareth envied her innocence in this matter.

She looked from him to Dec. “Do you know?” she asked him.

Which of course was the question Dec had wanted all along. He closed his eyes. “A king and nine of hearts, a three, seven, and ten of spades, and an eight, nine, and ace of clubs.” He opened his eyes and turned to Gareth. “Am I close, Gare?”

He hated his friend in that moment. “A nine of clubs, not hearts, and a six and eight of spades, not clubs.”

McElroy flipped the cards over and Mrs. Lombard stared.

“But, how?” She looked up at Gareth, her stunned expression forcing an answer out of him.

“I have a good memory.”