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He pointed a fourth finger ceilingward.

Misgiving narrowed Trinity’s eyes, and she tapped the toes of one foot. “What about the king and queen?”

Devin applied the razor to his neck before rinsing it in the basin.

“The king was always king or Rajah, and the queen was originally Mantri which means advisor. After chess reached Europe, the advisor piece changed to the queen.”

“Why do you know so much about chess?” Trinity sounded unconvinced.

“My father adored the game. He brought me a set from India many years ago.” Devin pointed to the low trunk. “It is in there. He also shared the game’s history that he learned while in India.”

“And that is why you love the game too.”

Nodding, Devin let his mind travel back to the last chess game he ever played with Father. He had been sober that night for a change.

The next day, he lay dead at the bottom of the stairs. Two empty whisky bottles told the tale. Reeling drunk, he’d fallen and broken his neck.

Devin eyed Trinity’s reflection in the mirror. She really ought to have gone several minutes ago. Detaining her jeopardized her reputation and possibly her standing with her employer.

He truly was a selfish cad.

“Thank you for sharing those fascinating tidbits with me.” She pushed several strands of hair off her shoulders. “Mayhap I shall try to learn it again.”

She made to go.

“What about checkers?” Devin blurted.

Was there a set on board the vessel?

Amongst the crew, perchance?

Devin had asked Shillingford to pack his chess set and playing cards but not checkers.

Trinity gave her head a remorseful shake, sending the hair caressing her back swaying. “I am simply dismal at most games, from shuttlecock to pall mall to hazard.”

A spark lit her azure eyes, and she grinned.

“Except for piquet or vingt-et-un. I play both satisfactorily.” She rearranged his eating utensils to her satisfaction, then with a precocious upward sweep of that tempting mouth, asked, “Do you play either, Mr. Everingham?”

Was that sincere interest causing the huskiness in her voice or something else?

Preferring whist or faro, Devin nevertheless nodded his head. “I do indeed, and my cards are in one of those.”

So were his dice.

He nudged his chin toward the two closed trunks.

“Excellent.” Trinity clasped her hands, her gaze flitting around the tiny chamber but studiously avoiding settling on him.

She cleared her throat.

“Well then, Mr. Everingham, I shall leave you to…”

Waving a hand in his general direction, she took a step backward.

“Miss Ablethorne?”