Virtue by Jane Feather

Author:Jane Feather
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

17

Bernard Melville was puzzled. He was losing to Sebastian Davenport and he couldn’t work out how it was happening. His opponent was playing with his usual insouciance, lounging back in his chair, legs sprawled beneath the table, a goblet of cognac at his elbow. He laughed and joked with those who stopped beside the table to watch the play, often seemed careless of his discard, and yet the points were adding up with a remorseless momentum.

Bernard had lost the first hand, won the second by a hair, and was clearly about to lose the third. The cards seemed to be running evenly, although Davenport had laughingly congratulated himself when he’d looked at his hand, counted thirty points, and declared a repique. But the earl knew his own cards were certainly good enough to give him the edge even against a major hand when playing with someone less skilled than himself. And Sebastian Davenport was a careless, inexpert player … wasn’t he?

Sebastian watched his opponent. Gracemere was not aware of the observation, conducted as it was from beneath lazily drooping lids, but Sebastian was making a fairly accurate guess as to the earl’s musings. He wondered whether to throw a guard that they would both know he should have kept. He would lose the hand, but he was ahead on points and could easily win the game with the next hand, after which he would rise the winner by a narrow margin. His fingers hovered over the cards, and a deep frown furrowed his brow. He reached for his cognac and drank.

Gracemere watched this performance of indecision with an inner smile. Despite his present success, the man was so transparent. When, with an almost defiant gesture of resolution, Sebastian threw down his only heart, the inner smile nearly broke to the surface. That was more like it. Careless, inexpert … positively bird-witted. Gracemere played to win the hand.

“Ah, I knew I should have retained the heart,” Sebastian lamented. “I just couldn’t remember what had gone before.”

“I know how it is,” Gracemere said with smooth reassurance, dealing the cards.

He lost the next hand so quickly, he could only put it down to the fall of the cards. “Your game, I believe, Davenport.”

Sebastian smiled fuzzily as he began to count the points. “Not by much, but it makes a change, Gracemere.”

“You must allow me my revenge.” The earl gathered up the cards.

Sebastian yawned. “You’ll have to excuse me tonight. Three games is as much as I can manage at one sitting … too much concentration.” He laughed in cheerful self-deprecation. “Think I’ll have a turn at hazard. See how the dice fall for me. I’ve a feeling my luck’s in tonight.”

“As you wish,” Gracemere said, finding it hard to hide his contempt. “But I insist on a return game soon.”

“By all means … by all means … wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Sebastian stood up, caught sight of a friend across the room, and strolled off. Gracemere watched him weave his way

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