Chapter Seventeen #2
Honora spun around and raised her brows at Stanton. His face was three shades paler than when they entered the pub, and his mouth hung open as if he were trying to catch one of the flies that buzzed about the tables.
She lifted a hand and tapped him under the chin. “Are you ready?”
He snapped his mouth shut. “Of course.” He swallowed. “I can keep up.”
As Honora took the seat beside Thrup, Leonard was left with no choice but to pull a chair up to the end of the booth. When he sat, the others at the table eyed him as if he were some foreign species.
“Well.” Leonard sighed, hands clasped on the table. “Care to deal me in?”
Thrup’s booming laugh nearly made her jump from her skin, and then the other men laughed as well, the combined sound nearly deafening. Honora looked at Stanton, then gave a gentle smile, nodding her approval. He was learning. And rather quickly.
She couldn’t be more proud.
Then, without asking why she was there, they began a game of brag. Four cards were dealt to each. Honora’s cards were particularly lousy, but the key to winning the game wasn’t necessarily who had the best cards, but rather who could best bluff.
With a face as still as stone, Honora shuffled her cards. She had a queen of hearts, a queen of spades, and an ace of clubs. The five of hearts was the easy choice to discard.
One by one, the players discarded their choices. Honora glanced over to see how Stanton was doing, but his face revealed nothing. She looked at his hairline, expecting to see perspiration clinging to his brow, but it was shockingly dry.
Once the cards had been discarded, the betting began.
At first, it was a pittance. Everyone was feeling out the others and the strength of their cards.
Then, one by one, the players stacked their cards, slipping them beneath the deck and bowing out of the hand.
The last three were Honora, Stanton, and Thrup.
The circle kept going round, the kitty growing larger with each pass. Honora’s cards were not fantastic, but she was not about to let Stanton win her over, and either Thrup felt the same, or he had a lucky hand.
After a while, Honora bowed out, knowing if someone called her, she would lose.
Now it was down to Thrup and Stanton. The men practically glared at each other over their hands.
After Stanton placed another bet, Thrup put an end to the cycle.
He pushed a pile of coins into the center of the table, his eyes never leaving Leonard as he did so. “Call.”
Leonard looked down at his hand, his fingers tightening around his cards. And then he laid them down.
A running flush.
The royal cards, all the same suit, lined up neatly in front of him on proud display.
Thrup cursed, tossing his cards down on the table. Honora glanced up to Stanton. “Well done.”
He shrugged, but she saw the proud tilt to his mouth at her praise.
Then the evening slowly began to blur. Mugs of ale flowed to the table, bets were made, cards were stacked, and Stanton’s kitty of coins grew with each hand.
With each mug, Stanton’s smile widened, his jokes became freer, and his laugh—which she had never heard before—became a frequent occurrence. And while Leonard was always a handsome man, his smile made him unfairly so. She could stare at him all night.
“I like him,” Thrup said, nudging Honora’s shoulder with his own. “He is a good chap.”
Smiling, Honora looked up at Leonard, who returned the smile, sending butterflies aflutter in her stomach.
“You should smile more,” Honora said, leaning closer to him.
His brow scrunched, but a smile creased his cheek. “I smile.”
“I am not sure I have seen it. But it makes you quite dashing.”
Eyes narrowing slightly, he watched her—until he finally shook his head with a chuckle and continued the game.
Now that the men all had a good three to five drinks in them, Honora should begin her questions into Pratt’s location. “So, Thrup,” she began, running her thumb along the edge of her cards. “Do you keep in touch with Pratt anymore?”
“Pratt?” Thrup played dumb, shrugging his shoulder as he scratched the scruff on his face. “Not really.”
Liar.
If he had said a definitive no, that would be one thing. But the ambiguous answer was enough to know he was keeping something from her. That, paired with the touching of his face, gave her enough to press on.
“A pity.” She sighed. “I had needed to give him something, and I can’t seem to find him.”
“Didn’t say I don’t know where he is. Just said I don’t talk to ’im much.”
“Where is he, then?” She turned her head to Thrup as the others made their bets.
“Been staying down at the old Tulk rooms. Nasty place. But he does good there. No one bothers ’im. No one wants to go in there.”
She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. “Why is he hiding out?”
“Upset some friends in high places. In an occupation like his, it can only last so long. And I think his time has run out.” His eyes flicked to Honora. “Like I said, don’t see ’im much now.”
“Don’t be shy. Ask her!” Another conversation caught Honora’s ear, and her eyes flicked to one of the gentlemen across from her.
Booth perhaps? “She wouldn’t have brought ya here if she didn’t have a fancy for ya.
” The man happened to be missing one front tooth, thus whistling with every s in his vocabulary.
He then threw a wink in Stanton’s direction, looking as if he thought he was discretion itself.
Stanton cleared his throat, running a finger under the collar of his shirt as he stretched his neck. “I’m sure she would not wish to dance.”
“Oh, but I would love it.” Honora raised her brow, smile widening. Little did these men know it was Honora with a fancy, and Mr. Stanton only tolerated her presence.
Stanton was already shaking his head, sending his brown locks swaying. “Surely you are tired.”
“Not at all, actually.” She brought her other arm to the table, clasping her hands so her chin had a nice perch.
“A ’course he has to dance with you.” Thrup slapped the table, making the coins jump and clank together. “The night is young.”
“It would look silly for us to be the only two dancing,” Stanton insisted, now staring resolutely at his cards. And did she see a bit of perspiration around his brow? She narrowed her eyes.
Why, yes, she did.
Standing to her feet, she held a hand out to him. “How nice of you to consider my feelings, Mr. Stanton. But I am quite well enough to dance.”
His jaw jumped, and he looked about every man at the table as if mentally noting their faces so they could later be punished for their part in this ordeal. He rubbed his brow, then looked up at her. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“Oh, but we must.” She flicked her eyes to the other gentlemen who were cajoling them on. What had started as a light pressing was quickly turning into something more heated. A product of the alcohol, to be sure. It could start out making one pleasant, but it didn’t typically have a nice end.
Stanton’s nervous hand-rubbing moved to his lips, giving them a hard swipe.
“Fine.” He stood, his chair screeching across the wooden floor, then held a hand out to her and led her to the middle of the room.
Several of the men from the table stood and began pushing furniture so there was space in the middle of the room.
“We have no music.” Stanton looked around the room. “This is going to be the most awkward dance in the history of time.”
“Nonsense.” Honora nodded toward the bar where a man was already pulling out a fiddle. “We shall have some of the liveliest music of your life.”
Two ladies, one of whom worked at the pub, were asked to dance by other gentlemen.
After a quick moment, a perfect three pairs made up their set.
Then the bartender set into a country jig, full of life and energy.
If there was one thing Honora missed from her past, it was dancing.
She hadn’t danced in years since rising in the ranks and making a place for herself.
The men and women started in, their steps energetic, if not precise. Stanton watched with wide eyes before quickly setting to the steps himself. He was so rigid that it made Honora laugh.
“What?” he asked as they passed each other, hands briefly touching before being turned to another partner.
When they came back together, Honora leaned to his ear, close enough that she could feel his hair on her face. “You need to relax.”
“What?” he yelled back at her. The noise of the crowd was so great that hearing was becoming a problem.
It came to a turn where they put their hands on each other’s shoulder as they took steps in a circle together.
“I said you need to relax.” She couldn’t help her smile, not only because it felt so good to dance, but his expression of utter confusion and near disgust was enough to make anyone laugh. “Enjoy yourself, Leonard.” She squeezed his shoulder before moving on to another partner.
This man was a bit handsier than Stanton, his fingers digging into her flesh and trailing over her as he pulled away. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to dancing in a pub in this neighborhood. Then she looked at Leonard, who had a lady with him that stared at him with veritable stars in her eyes.
Every time she returned to Leonard, her heart beat faster. His scowl was slowly melting away, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
Stanton led her into a quick twirl, his hand grazing her waist, before passing her along to the next dancer. Their feet pounded against the wood flooring as the fiddle rang out in the air, the yelps of the others encouraging them on.
The next turn she came into with Leonard, he hooked an arm around her waist, looking her dead in the eye . . . and smiling. A true smile. One that showed two rows of neat, white teeth, lips curling up on both sides, and directed at her.