Chapter Five #3
“Of course.” He started to set his cup down in preparation of helping her, but she waved him away.
Olivia pulled the cherrywood table toward the chaise. It was not the proper size or shape for what she wanted to demonstrate, but she would make do. She stood on the opposite side of the table and began shuffling the cards.
It took her a few moments to find her rhythm. The cards were well used, slightly thick because of it, with corners that snagged and faces that did not easily slide against one another. She was also badly out of practice. Twice the cards fluttered from her hands, making her feel gauche and clumsy.
Griffin’s cup hovered halfway between his lap and his mouth as he gave over all of his attention to Olivia Cole.
Her long, elegantly tapered fingers moved and manipulated with a speed and deftness that his eyes could not easily follow.
Even when some of the cards escaped her hands, she shoveled them up with the remainder of the deck in a fashion so smooth as to give the impression the initial fumbling was deliberate.
He put his cup aside and leaned forward. She tapped the deck on the table, squaring it off, then fanned it open, first with the back of the cards showing, then again with the pips and faces turned up. She did this several times, flipping the cards back and forth with a flick of her wrist.
When she paused, he glanced up and caught her frowning. “What is it?” he asked.
“Will you look under the chaise? The four of hearts and the queen of clubs are missing from this deck.”
He did not inquire as to how she could possibly know that—she’d neither sorted nor counted the cards—but when he felt around under the chaise his fingertips caught the edges of two cards. He picked them up and laid them face up on the table. The four of hearts and the queen of clubs.
“You purposely left them behind when you picked up the rest of the deck,” he said.
Olivia drew the two cards toward her and slipped them into the deck. “You know I didn’t examine the cards when they were under the chaise. I couldn’t see them properly.” She handed him the deck. “Take as few or as many as you like.” She turned her back and waited.
Griffin removed one card and slipped it under the tray at his side without looking at it. He slid the deck toward her again. “All right.”
Olivia pivoted, picked up the cards, and resumed shuffling. They stuck occasionally, and she had to adjust the pressure of her hands and fingers to compensate. She spread the cards in a perfect arch on the table, flipped them once, flipped them back, and gathered them up again.
“The six of spades,” she said.
Griffin lifted one edge of the tray and slipped the card free. He glanced at it before pushing it across the table toward her. “The six of spades.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Did you suppose that if you examined it beforehand you might give it away? I should very much like to see what expression of yours hints at the six of spades.”
He scowled at her.
“Really? I confess I would have mistaken that for one of the knaves. A diamond, mayhap, or a heart.”
“Amusing,” he said in a tone that communicated the opposite.
Olivia tried to school her smile but it would not be tempered.
It was only when she realized that she was enjoying herself that it faded.
Her hands grew clumsy again and she lost several cards.
She flinched, turning her head and raising one shoulder a fraction, then dropped a small curtsy and offered an apology for her awkward handling of the cards.
“Why did you do that?” Griffin asked.
“Do what?” She attended to her shuffling and did not look at him.
“Make that bow and apologize.”
“Did I?” Olivia divided the deck and nimbly worked the halves between her fingers, passing them back and forth between her hands. “I didn’t realize.”
“Yes, when you dropped the cards.” He inclined his head to one side to try to catch her eye and was left with the impression she was purposely ignoring him. “Just after you drew back.”
“I couldn’t say,” she told him. “I don’t recall doing it.”
Griffin chose not to press. He knew what he had seen and did not question the accuracy of his perception.
She had anticipated a blow. That was the only reason people started in the manner she had.
The lift of her shoulder was instinctive, a protection against a strike that was aimed at a more vulnerable point, perhaps her chin or cheek.
He returned his attention to her manipulation of the cards.
She was remarkably smooth given the dog-eared condition of the deck she was using.
There was rarely a hesitation; her initial stiffness was gone.
She now was able to look away from her hands and still complete the cutting and turning of the cards without mishap.
She had the sort of dexterity that would have enabled her to force any card on him that she desired.
What she did, however, was slide the deck forward and ask him to make a cut.
Olivia took back the deck and laid out thirteen cards in two rows, ace through king, all of them spades.
In the first row the ace was on her left, the six on the right.
The seven of spades lay at the head, perpendicular to the two rows, and the remaining six cards, the eight through the king, had a one-to-one correspondence with the cards in the first row.
“That is the layout of a faro table,” Griffin said.
“It is. I assume you have one in your hell.”
“Of course.”
“With a spade suit like this glued to the table?”
“Painted, actually. It is a very fine table. Antique, and in excellent condition.”
Olivia nodded. She’d expected nothing less. “Without a traditional table here, we’ll have to pretend these cards are permanently fixed.”
“Very well.”
“Would you like to make a wager?” She drew the remainder of the deck to her and looked around for something that might be used as a marker.
Griffin picked up one of the toast triangles and tore it in half. He placed one half on the three of spades and ate the other.
Olivia chuckled. “It is an unusual token, but one supposes that as owner you are able to establish the house rules.”
“Precisely.”
Olivia paused a moment, waiting to see if Breckenridge wanted to rethink his wager or add another.
When he simply resumed drinking his coffee, she said, “All bets are down.” She turned over the top card on the remaining deck.
It was a five of hearts. “The house wins on all bets placed on the five.” Sighing, she feigned disappointment that he’d placed his wager elsewhere.
“I should have liked to eat the winnings.”
“Then you would be stealing from the house,” he reminded her.
“A most excellent point.” She placed the losing card on her right and turned over the next card, a seven of diamonds. “The house pays on all wagers on the seven. It appears you do not win either. Do you wish to make another wager or allow your toast to stand on the three?”
“I’ll allow it to stand.”
“As you wish. All bets are placed.” The next card she turned over—the losing card—was a three of clubs. As the suit in faro was unimportant to the play, it only mattered that the card was a three. “The house wins on all wagers placed on the three. Oh dear, that means you’ve forfeited your toast.”
“How fortunate for me that I am also the house,” Griffin said, picking up the bite-sized piece and dropping it in his mouth. He made a show of enjoying it, too. “Did you force the three so the house would win?”
Olivia took exception to that. The entire line of her body stiffened. “You are asking if I cheated, and the answer is no.”
“But you could.”
She simply stared at him.
“But you could,” he repeated. He picked up his last piece of toast and divided it.
This time he made a wager with each half, placing one on the queen and the other in the space above and between the nine and ten, thus splitting that bet.
“The next card you draw is the winning card for the punter. I want to win on the queen.”
Olivia’s mouth flattened. She wondered that she had allowed herself to expect something different from him. Her disappointment was sincerely felt, but when she reflected on it, she realized she was more disappointed in herself for lowering her guard than in Breckenridge for taking advantage.
“On the queen,” she said without inflection, looking away.
She covered the deck briefly with her palm while she idly stretched and contracted the fingers of her other hand.
Lifting her palm, she tapped the deck once with a forefinger then turned over the top card.
The queen of diamonds was displayed. “Punter wins on the queen.”
Griffin whistled softly. “You can indeed.” He picked up the piece of toast and set it back on the tray. “The house wins on the next turn. Since I split the bet, you can do it with either the nine or the ten.”
“You do not even make it challenging,” she said coolly. “Choose which card you wish me to show you, the nine or the ten.”
“The nine.”
With no enthusiasm for the task, Olivia laid her palm over the deck again while she absently fiddled with the sleeve of her gown. Out of view her thumbnail fanned the corner of the stack of cards. She lifted her hand.
“Wait,” Griffin ordered. He reached across the table and did what no player would be permitted to do during a turn at faro: He revealed the top card himself. “A four,” he said.
“So it is.”
“You weren’t able to do it that time.”
“That’s the card you lifted,” she said.
“It was on top.”
“Perhaps it was when you reached for it, but when I choose the top card, it looks like this.” She turned it over and displayed the nine of hearts.
“God’s truth, but you’re adept at it.” Griffin’s tone was all admiration as he sat back and rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “You told me you possessed no happy talents.”