me.”
He knew that was only said to annoy him. “All right.”
He nudged the dealer under the table with the toe of his boot, then nodded. The man began turning cards one by one. Beside him Kit was calm and aloof, except for the excited light in her eyes. Six of hearts, ace of clubs, three of hearts, then there were only four cards left.
“Good thing he stopped your wagering on queens,” Reg pointed out unhelpfully.
The dealer glanced up at the Earl of Everton, then turned the card. “Looks as though you’ll be touring London on foot and alone,” Alex said, as the queen of hearts drifted down to the table. He reached out and slid her pile of sovereigns into his, and then gathered them all in front of him. With no blunt, the chit couldn’t go much of anywhere for the next fortnight, and that would make things considerably easier on him. Or so he hoped.
“You’re a selfish brute,” Kit said, disappointment in her eyes.
“And I’m beginning to think it’s past your bedtime, boy,” Alex returned, amused.
“My father sent me here to acquire some town polish, you know,” she informed him, raising both eyebrows and daring him to play again.
It was more tempting than he expected. “Your father sent you here to keep you out of trouble while he’s traveling,” he countered smoothly. He stood, nodding at his other companions. “Let’s go, brat.”
Kit balked, then with an annoyed sigh finished her port, dropped the remainder of the coins he had fronted her into a pocket, and stood. “Good night, gentlemen,” she said, clapping Reg Hanshaw on the shoulder and nodding at Augustus.
“Night, Kit,” Augustus returned, raising his glass at her. “And if Alexander won’t show you about town, I will.”
“That’s generous of you,” Alex commented, narrowing his eyes a little. It was uncharacteristically generous,but despite his scrutiny, he could see nothing in Devlin’s faded eyes but cynical, drink-dulled amusement.
“Not at all, dears.”
Kit headed out, and Alex flipped a sovereign at the dealer. With a nod, the man caught it and dropped it into his waistcoat pocket.
“Cheat,” Devlin murmured.
“Whenever possible.” Everton followed his purported cousin outside. As soon as they were out of earshot of the crowded club, he rounded on her. “How in the devil did you get here?” he snapped, motioning for his carriage to be brought around.
“I walked,” she said indignantly. “I didn’t want to be accused of stealing from your stables again.” She glared at him, then glanced over her shoulder at the club. “What’s wrong with Devlin?”
“And our discussion of earlier this evening? Did you forget that?” he continued, gesturing her into the carriage and climbing in behind her.
“That was not a discussion. That was you telling me you couldn’t be bothered to look after me.” She folded her arms and sat back in the deep cushions opposite him. “Well, I didn’t ask you to look after me, Everton. You don’t need to treat me like a wee babe, just because I happen to be a female.”
“Barely,” Alex replied, amazed he had mistaken her for anything but a female even for a moment.
“And you’re a poor excuse for a gentleman,” she shot back.
“I’m a good enough excuse for you to be stealing my neckties,” he noted, reaching forward to finger the well-tied ruffles at her throat.
She took a quick breath, then slapped his hand away. “Stop that. You’ll ruin it.”
He sat back, watching her pretending not to watch him. She was taller than Francis, but somehow appeared, to his enlightened gaze anyway, more fine-boned and delicate even than Barbara. And in those stained ragamuffin clothes, she looked like an escapee from a workhouse. To his surprise he wanted to kiss the waif, wantedto kiss those lips that were set in a straight, offended line and needed no paint to lend them perfection. Alex took a slow breath of his own. “Consumption,” he finally said.
Her eyes,
He knew that was only said to annoy him. “All right.”
He nudged the dealer under the table with the toe of his boot, then nodded. The man began turning cards one by one. Beside him Kit was calm and aloof, except for the excited light in her eyes. Six of hearts, ace of clubs, three of hearts, then there were only four cards left.
“Good thing he stopped your wagering on queens,” Reg pointed out unhelpfully.
The dealer glanced up at the Earl of Everton, then turned the card. “Looks as though you’ll be touring London on foot and alone,” Alex said, as the queen of hearts drifted down to the table. He reached out and slid her pile of sovereigns into his, and then gathered them all in front of him. With no blunt, the chit couldn’t go much of anywhere for the next fortnight, and that would make things considerably easier on him. Or so he hoped.
“You’re a selfish brute,” Kit said, disappointment in her eyes.
“And I’m beginning to think it’s past your bedtime, boy,” Alex returned, amused.
“My father sent me here to acquire some town polish, you know,” she informed him, raising both eyebrows and daring him to play again.
It was more tempting than he expected. “Your father sent you here to keep you out of trouble while he’s traveling,” he countered smoothly. He stood, nodding at his other companions. “Let’s go, brat.”
Kit balked, then with an annoyed sigh finished her port, dropped the remainder of the coins he had fronted her into a pocket, and stood. “Good night, gentlemen,” she said, clapping Reg Hanshaw on the shoulder and nodding at Augustus.
“Night, Kit,” Augustus returned, raising his glass at her. “And if Alexander won’t show you about town, I will.”
“That’s generous of you,” Alex commented, narrowing his eyes a little. It was uncharacteristically generous,but despite his scrutiny, he could see nothing in Devlin’s faded eyes but cynical, drink-dulled amusement.
“Not at all, dears.”
Kit headed out, and Alex flipped a sovereign at the dealer. With a nod, the man caught it and dropped it into his waistcoat pocket.
“Cheat,” Devlin murmured.
“Whenever possible.” Everton followed his purported cousin outside. As soon as they were out of earshot of the crowded club, he rounded on her. “How in the devil did you get here?” he snapped, motioning for his carriage to be brought around.
“I walked,” she said indignantly. “I didn’t want to be accused of stealing from your stables again.” She glared at him, then glanced over her shoulder at the club. “What’s wrong with Devlin?”
“And our discussion of earlier this evening? Did you forget that?” he continued, gesturing her into the carriage and climbing in behind her.
“That was not a discussion. That was you telling me you couldn’t be bothered to look after me.” She folded her arms and sat back in the deep cushions opposite him. “Well, I didn’t ask you to look after me, Everton. You don’t need to treat me like a wee babe, just because I happen to be a female.”
“Barely,” Alex replied, amazed he had mistaken her for anything but a female even for a moment.
“And you’re a poor excuse for a gentleman,” she shot back.
“I’m a good enough excuse for you to be stealing my neckties,” he noted, reaching forward to finger the well-tied ruffles at her throat.
She took a quick breath, then slapped his hand away. “Stop that. You’ll ruin it.”
He sat back, watching her pretending not to watch him. She was taller than Francis, but somehow appeared, to his enlightened gaze anyway, more fine-boned and delicate even than Barbara. And in those stained ragamuffin clothes, she looked like an escapee from a workhouse. To his surprise he wanted to kiss the waif, wantedto kiss those lips that were set in a straight, offended line and needed no paint to lend them perfection. Alex took a slow breath of his own. “Consumption,” he finally said.
Her eyes,
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