Camilla giggled. “It was something Dolph said to me—nothing of significance, I promise you! But you are not of an unfeeling temperament.”
Lord Pennymount, unable to imagine the Honorable Adolphus under any circumstances making a significant comment, dismissed that somewhat vacuous young gentleman from his mind. “Unfeeling?” he echoed, in an honest effort to be civil to his equally muddle-headed fiancée. “Of course I’m not unfeeling. I’d like to wring her blasted neck.”
If deficient in some areas, Lady Camilla was in others rather more astute. Her fine brown eyes narrowed. “I’ll wager a pony—”
“The deuce you will!” retorted Lord Pennymount, so harshly that Lady Camilla started and came perilously near to tumbling off the phaeton seat. “You’ll do no such thing, my girl; it’s quite bad enough that I have one wife who gambles—not that Jess would have dared do such a thing while we were married, else I would have given her a rare trimming, as well she knew.” His fingers tightened on the reins, causing his nervous horses to dance. “So now she fritters away the allowance I make her at play!”
Though Lady Camilla did not like arguments, she felt obliged to here insert a word in her own defense. “But—” she said.
“You are surprised!” decided his lordship. “It is the truth. Jess is most often to be found in a select King Street gaming-hell—but I should not be talking to you of such things.” Vidal was glad when Lady Camilla did not press for further revelations. He would have been considerably less pleased to realize that he had already given his fiancé considerable food for thought.
Silence descended once more upon the occupants of the high-perch phaeton. Lord Pennymount pondered how best to persuade his aggravating first countess to remove her embarrassing presence from the metropolis, plans that did not move speedily forward, due to his lordship’s tendency to brood upon the lady’s inexplicable preference for bloody Frenchmen.
At least he might trust that the unromantic Lady Camilla would be drawn to no enterprising rogues who ran gaming-hells. Lord Pennymount anticipated that his second countess would make up in unexceptionable conduct what she lacked in common sense.
Meanwhile Lady Camilla also pondered, and in a manner that might have been expressly calculated to cut up his lordship’s peace. As result of Vidal’s disclosures, and his ominous remarks about laying violent hands on his countesses, and giving them rare trimmings, Milly was more than ever determined to make the acquaintance of his first wife.
Moreover, she now saw how the thing might be accomplished. Disapprove as Pennymount might, Camilla was willing to wager any number of ponies that her feckless brother had become acquainted with the elusive Mme. Joliffe across the board of green cloth.
Chapter Seven
Came evening, and Capitaine Chançard’s select King Street gaming-hell was thronged with its regular clientele. Serious players plunged at macao, hazard, faro; the less adventuresome passed the time with whist and piquet. Hour after hour they stooped over the green baize tables, and thousands changed hands.
Among the players, Michon himself strolled, offering words of congratulation or commiseration as the situation required. Nonchalant as was his demeanor, little escaped his attention. Capitaine Chançard was as aware of the actions of his servants—dealers and croupiers, the waiter who served wine and attended to the gaming room, the burly ex-pugilist who was willing to engage in fisticuffs with any of fortune’s peevish unfortunates—as he was of the progress of his guests.
Especially, he was interested in one of those guests, currently engaged in conversation with Mme. Joliffe near the E.O. stand. Michon was very curious about what the Honorable Adolphus might be saying to Lord Pennymount’s discarded first countess. With the intention of satisfying that curiosity, he
Lord Pennymount, unable to imagine the Honorable Adolphus under any circumstances making a significant comment, dismissed that somewhat vacuous young gentleman from his mind. “Unfeeling?” he echoed, in an honest effort to be civil to his equally muddle-headed fiancée. “Of course I’m not unfeeling. I’d like to wring her blasted neck.”
If deficient in some areas, Lady Camilla was in others rather more astute. Her fine brown eyes narrowed. “I’ll wager a pony—”
“The deuce you will!” retorted Lord Pennymount, so harshly that Lady Camilla started and came perilously near to tumbling off the phaeton seat. “You’ll do no such thing, my girl; it’s quite bad enough that I have one wife who gambles—not that Jess would have dared do such a thing while we were married, else I would have given her a rare trimming, as well she knew.” His fingers tightened on the reins, causing his nervous horses to dance. “So now she fritters away the allowance I make her at play!”
Though Lady Camilla did not like arguments, she felt obliged to here insert a word in her own defense. “But—” she said.
“You are surprised!” decided his lordship. “It is the truth. Jess is most often to be found in a select King Street gaming-hell—but I should not be talking to you of such things.” Vidal was glad when Lady Camilla did not press for further revelations. He would have been considerably less pleased to realize that he had already given his fiancé considerable food for thought.
Silence descended once more upon the occupants of the high-perch phaeton. Lord Pennymount pondered how best to persuade his aggravating first countess to remove her embarrassing presence from the metropolis, plans that did not move speedily forward, due to his lordship’s tendency to brood upon the lady’s inexplicable preference for bloody Frenchmen.
At least he might trust that the unromantic Lady Camilla would be drawn to no enterprising rogues who ran gaming-hells. Lord Pennymount anticipated that his second countess would make up in unexceptionable conduct what she lacked in common sense.
Meanwhile Lady Camilla also pondered, and in a manner that might have been expressly calculated to cut up his lordship’s peace. As result of Vidal’s disclosures, and his ominous remarks about laying violent hands on his countesses, and giving them rare trimmings, Milly was more than ever determined to make the acquaintance of his first wife.
Moreover, she now saw how the thing might be accomplished. Disapprove as Pennymount might, Camilla was willing to wager any number of ponies that her feckless brother had become acquainted with the elusive Mme. Joliffe across the board of green cloth.
Chapter Seven
Came evening, and Capitaine Chançard’s select King Street gaming-hell was thronged with its regular clientele. Serious players plunged at macao, hazard, faro; the less adventuresome passed the time with whist and piquet. Hour after hour they stooped over the green baize tables, and thousands changed hands.
Among the players, Michon himself strolled, offering words of congratulation or commiseration as the situation required. Nonchalant as was his demeanor, little escaped his attention. Capitaine Chançard was as aware of the actions of his servants—dealers and croupiers, the waiter who served wine and attended to the gaming room, the burly ex-pugilist who was willing to engage in fisticuffs with any of fortune’s peevish unfortunates—as he was of the progress of his guests.
Especially, he was interested in one of those guests, currently engaged in conversation with Mme. Joliffe near the E.O. stand. Michon was very curious about what the Honorable Adolphus might be saying to Lord Pennymount’s discarded first countess. With the intention of satisfying that curiosity, he
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