CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
Cassie may have been snared in the net of social responsibility, but I was still a free woman – at least for the time being. Careful to avoid Max and Izzy, I skirted the edge of the ballroom, where people were milling, drinks in hand, waiting to go through to the dining room for the wedding breakfast.
I had a brief window in which to plot my escape, otherwise it was going to be nothing but speeches, and fancy, fussy plates of food, and being inevitably seated beside an “eligible bachelor” who couldn’t even spell Pythagoras. In this crush I’d hardly be missed – except by my family, of course, but it would come as no surprise to them that I’d chosen to remove myself.
The ballroom was quite spectacular, like a wedding cake itself, all gilt and marble, with pale duck-egg blue walls, and, soaring above us, a ceiling covered in clouds and rosy cherubs. It was beautifully decorated, garlanded with boughs of holly and fat red roses that carried a heady perfume, and flickering candles that made the scene feel festive.
This was, I recognized, a prime opportunity for small talk, and as such was to be avoided like the plague. In the last year or so, something had shifted in the way people looked at me. It was as if a sign had gone up over my head that read: For sale: single heiress, sister of a duke . I was constantly being measured as marriage material, and, because what mattered most in the eyes of society were money and breeding, I found myself in the uncomfortable position of being considered a “good catch”.
Never mind the things that made me me . Never mind that I could recite pi to over eight hundred digits, or that I loved apple pudding and riding bicycles, that I hated prunes, or that my fingers were always freckled with ink. None of those things mattered. I was a pretty jewel in a cabinet, on display for gentlemen to appraise and then bid upon.
In social situations I had to behave impeccably, because that’s what was expected of me. And because I loved my family, because I cared about what they thought of me and what other people thought of them, I really did try my best. But it was exhausting, and I constantly came up short. Like a puzzle piece that had made its way into the wrong box, I simply didn’t fit.
For one thing, I didn’t like crowds. This was something of a hindrance if one was supposed to be a dazzling social butterfly. It wasn’t only the small talk, which I found hard work; it was the press of people. The sound of all the voices, the way they seemed to clamour for attention in my brain. The noise and the energy of it was overwhelming, which only added to my discomfort.
“Lady Felicity,” a regal voice called, and I fought to keep the grimace from my face as Nicholas Wynter’s grandmother – the Dowager Countess Wynter – stepped out in front of me, neatly blocking my getaway. I quite liked the old dragon, but nothing escaped the woman’s beady eye. I felt at once that she knew every wicked, uncivil thought that had ever crossed my mind. She also definitely knew that I was trying to sneak out of this room unseen.
“Lady Wynter.” I smiled politely. “How lovely to run into you.”
The woman gave a small harrumph , which I took to mean that she was perfectly aware I was wishing myself far, far away.
“The ceremony was delightful,” I tried, giving myself over to polite chit-chat, already experiencing the numb, creeping feeling that went with it.
“The ceremony was overlong.” The dowager countess’s lip curled into a sneer. “But what can one expect from a parochial little church like that? The vicar was hardly a talented orator. When I think we could have held the wedding at St George’s, with all the pomp and circumstance, and Bertie in attendance … well .” She finished on a huff, her ice-blue eyes snapping. “My new granddaughter-in-law certainly knows her own mind.” Despite her attempt at sounding displeased, I heard the grudging approval in her voice.
“I thought the two of them looked very happy,” I said gamely. “They’re a beautiful couple.”
“They are that,” the dowager countess agreed. Her gaze drifted speculatively over me – a thorough once-over. “And you, Felicity Vane, have got a look of your mother about you. You’ve blossomed into an attractive young lady, though I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“I don’t,” I said placidly, “but thank you anyway.” While I wasn’t a patch on Iris Wynter, I was aware that my appearance was more than acceptable by society’s deeply conventional standards. I’d inherited my mother’s willowy figure and her poker-straight silver-blonde hair. My face was symmetrical, which I understood helped; my eyes were a dark blue that tipped towards violet in certain lights. (This I knew thanks to a rather flowery description from a friend of Max who had made a brief attempt at flirtation when I’d been dragged to a party two weeks ago. It hadn’t gone well.)
Lady Wynter gave a short bark of laughter. “Good girl. Can’t stand those niminy-piminy misses who act as though they’ve never seen themselves in a mirror before. And your dress is excellently made too. The colour sets off your complexion.”
“That’s all down to my sister-in-law,” I said.
The dowager countess’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose she and your brother have you shopping for a husband?”
I stilled. My smile became strained. “I would say … we’re in negotiations over the matter.”
“Hmmm.” I couldn’t tell what the noise meant. “Well” – again I was treated to a penetrating glare – “I’m sure I shall follow your coming season with interest.”
I didn’t know if that was a threat or a promise, but I wasn’t about to hang around and find out.
“I look forward to it,” I said weakly. “Oh, I think I see an old friend – please excuse me.” And with that I turned and took to my heels as decorously as possible. The knowing chuckle that followed me made me think I hadn’t been as subtle as I hoped.
Keeping my eyes cast firmly down, I managed to make my way out of the room without being cornered by anyone else, and I headed along the twisting corridor, opening doors as I went until I found what I was looking for.
With a sigh of pleasure, I took in the library. It was enormous, stretching up two floors high, every shelf groaning under the weight of books. The room was fairly empty of furniture, though I spied a high-backed chair in front of the huge stone fireplace. Wasting no time, I dragged it over to one of the bow windows. There was just about enough space in there for me to sit and pull the curtains closed in front of me. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would be a hiding place of sorts – one that might provide respite if Max came looking for me.
Working quickly, I scanned the shelves until I found a book to read. The mathematics section was sadly out of date, but I found a promising-looking, well-thumbed hardback called A General History of the Pyrates , which was about the adventures of Mary Read and Anne Bonny. I had a particular fondness for pirate stories, and it seemed to me that if anyone might have solid advice on how to handle an overbearing older brother, it would be two fearless female outlaws.
I curled up happily in my chair; the drawn curtains created a cocoon, while the cold light from the window spilled over my shoulder. I gave a sigh of satisfaction. Hidden away, alone, with a book: this was how you enjoyed a party.
I’d been there for several minutes, sinking luxuriously into the many tales of derring-do, when I was interrupted by the sound of the door being pushed open.
I froze, coming out of the chair, reminding myself that I couldn’t be seen, and hoping that whoever it was would turn and go away. Instead, I heard a heated voice and a heavy tread.
“You mean to tell me you won’t accept the responsibility?” The voice was full of angry bluster. “You are a hair’s breadth from becoming the next in line for the title!”
A second voice came then, and something about it made my pulse leap.. It was soft, amused, with a touch of gravel. “I am well aware, thank you. We’re both unhappy about the development, but unless you’ve fathered any other sons I don’t know about, then we are where we are. I shall have to hope for Perry’s swift recovery. As you know, I have no interest in your title.”
“You shouldn’t speak so disrespectfully! Your brother may die!”
The drawling shiver of a voice hardened. “I’m not going to pretend affection for the man. I’m no hypocrite. I don’t want Perry to die. I hope he lives – as much for my sake as for his, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a cold-hearted, cruel scoundrel and always has been.”
These words were met with a choking splutter, a sound of obvious rage.
“Don’t go having an apoplexy,” the bored voice only said. “The last thing we need is the both of you dropping dead. Think how inconvenient it would be.”
“You! You … ungrateful cur! Your brother is worth a hundred of you.”
The amusement deepened. “No, he’s not. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?”
“So pleased with yourself.” The angry voice held a sneer. “Running your shabby gaming hell. A disgrace to the family name! I’m ashamed of you.”
“Well, I’m ashamed of you, so it runs both ways, Father. And the Lucky Penny isn’t a hell. It’s a business. I would have thought that my situation was preferable to Perry’s – bankrupting the family with his debts, and getting himself shot thanks to his shady dealings.”
“Your brother was attacked by a madman in the street!” the older man roared. “And you would impugn his honour?”
“I thought the gossipmongers were doing a good enough job of that. Or are the rumours of his unsavoury connections exaggerated? Flashing his money about before it happened, wasn’t he? Very interesting. I wonder where all those funds have got to.”
There was another huff of outrage. “Stuff and nonsense! I’ve put a stop to all that foolish gossip. I won’t have a scandal attached to this family. Besides, it was all a misunderstanding. Your brother is a gentleman . Not that I’d expect you to understand that. I know all about that hole you run in Whitechapel. Whitechapel! A son of mine! Involved in a den of iniquity!”
“ A den of iniquity .” The words sounded seductive. I imagined the curl of a smile. “I like that.”
“You would.” There was a gobbling sound like a turkey might make, and I was forced to press my lips together to avoid laughing. “I understand you even allow women to gamble there. Women! It’s unnatural.”
I perked up at these words. A gambling den that allowed women? I hadn’t heard anything about such a place … but then again nightclubs in Whitechapel were firmly outside my social circle. Unfortunately.
“You didn’t seem so squeamish when you were tapping me for money,” the younger voice said mildly, snapping my attention back to the conversation.
“All I asked was that you settle some of your brother’s outstanding expenses. I see now that I was wasting my breath. You have no sense of family loyalty, no brotherly duty.”
“I’m glad we understand one another.”
“And it’s clear to me you haven’t got two pennies to rub together. You are nothing but a … a … careless wastrel. Spending all your time gambling and drinking and doing God knows what!”
“Mmm. That sounds like an extremely good use of a person’s time to me.”
“My only consolation is that hardly anyone knows of the connection between us,” the older man continued, as though his son had not spoken. “You had the good sense at least not to use the family name. But if your brother dies… If you inherit…” The older man’s voice dropped, and it seemed he was talking more to himself. “The title must be beyond reproach. Ensuring the succession is crucial. I’m thwarted at every turn. It’s beginning to feel as though there is a curse on this family, and left in your hands … well, this behaviour cannot continue to be tolerated.”
“And by this behaviour , you mean my life?” the silky voice asked mildly.
“That’s enough of your cheek! This is an important event with important people. You will behave accordingly.”
“Nothing less would have dragged you from Perry’s side, I’m sure.” The wry amusement was back, and it was clear to me that the more relaxed the son was, the more irate the father became. It was a tactic I could admire. “I think the time is long past where you dictate my behaviour, Father, but you have nothing to fear. I have no intention of behaving badly. I have more friends here than you do. Quite a lot of them frequent my … den of iniquity . Including the groom. And the bride too. They consider it the height of fashion. You’ll find that I am well liked by these important people, despite my lack of family connections.”
On this note, the older man gave a loud groan of frustration and stomped across the floor. I heard the door being pulled open rather forcefully. “I have nothing more to say to you.” The door slammed.
The air stilled, and a heavy silence fell. I stood, unmoving as a statue, barely daring to breathe. On the other side of the curtain, I knew that the younger man was now alone. I hoped that, with the family disagreement concluded, he would be on his way.
Instead, the curtain rippled in front of my face, as though someone had run their fingers over it, and it was as if I felt the touch running up and down my spine.
“If you’re going to eavesdrop on private conversations,” the voice that was doing strange things to my insides murmured, “next time you should take care to hide those pretty slippers.”
My breath caught in my throat, and my gaze darted towards my feet. I hadn’t noticed that the fabric did not quite reach the floor. I swallowed a curse.
“Thank you,” I managed after a moment, relieved that my own voice sounded steady. “I’ll certainly bear that in mind. Next time.”
There was an amused hum of laughter. The fabric rippled once more, and for a moment I thought he was about to pull it back. I braced myself for confrontation. Then came the sound of an unhurried tread making for the door. When I heard the catch snick softly into place, I knew I was alone again.
With a sharp exhale, I slumped back into the chair. I turned over the events of the last few minutes in my mind. The argument, the fear of discovery. I could admit there was a gleeful thrill in eavesdropping, even if it transpired that one of the parties had been aware of my presence. It felt as though the stranger had drawn me into some curious intimacy by acknowledging my existence, by talking to me but not attempting to see my face, by not showing his. Just that voice, curling round me like smoke.
Giving myself a shake, as if to shrug off all the curious feelings it had stirred up, I turned my thoughts instead to a more significant and incredibly tantalizing proposition.
A gambling den where ladies were welcomed .
What was gambling, I mused, but mathematics? Chance, probability, risk and reward. Surely an enterprising mathematician could work the odds, could learn a few ways to turn their pin money into a much more substantial sum. After all, men were always winning fortunes over a hand of cards, and few of them could have my own expertise to bring to the table , as it were.
I leaned back in the chair, all but purring now, as a delicious new possibility presented itself.
Money meant freedom. With my own money, I could pay my enrolment fees, present my university career to Max as a fait accompli. It would show him how serious I was; it would give me control over my own destiny. Could he stop me? I thought about it. I suppose he could, legally. But he wouldn’t. I knew my brother; he would never let things get so far. I simply had to shake him out of his complacency, his wrong-headed notion of what I wanted and needed. I had to demonstrate that I was going to do this with or without his help, that for once I knew better.
With a grin, I swept the curtain aside and strode towards the bookcases. I needed to learn how to play cards. I needed to learn how to play cards perfectly .
And then I needed to pay a visit to the Lucky Penny.