Read Online The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) by Stella Riley - Free Book Online Page A

words were laden with
sarcasm.   ‘I don’t claim to speak for
everyone in this room … but for myself, I refuse to sit down with a – a --’ He
stopped.
    ‘Very wise,’ murmured Rockliffe.   ‘You might wish to choose your next words rather
carefully.’
    ‘I will not,’ said his lordship gratingly, ‘sit
down with a man who – whose hands are stained with innocent blood.’
    This time the silence was hot and airless.   Sheringham’s three companions looked utterly
blank and the Duke’s expression remained enigmatic. But Philip was scowling, Harry
Caversham and the fellow sitting next to him frowned and the Marquis of
Amberley looked faintly contemptuous. Feeling that the entire situation was
getting away from him, Sarre opened his mouth to take control – only to find
himself forestalled once more.
    ‘That is your choice, of course.’ The Duke’s
fingers toyed absently with his wine-glass.   ‘But you are not required to … sit down … with Lord Sarre, are you?   As far as I am aware, he has been invited to
join our table – not yours.’
    ‘Then I can only assume that your Grace doesn’t
know what he’s done.’
    Something that might have been laughter glinted in
the night-dark gaze.
    ‘It’s certainly true that I don’t know …
indisputably and beyond any possible doubt … what his lordship may have done.   But, unless I’ve mistaken the matter, neither
do you.’   He let a pause develop and then,
when Sheringham said nothing, turned away in a clear indication of dismissal. ‘Philip
… if you’re re-joining us, find chairs for yourself and Lord Sarre.’
    Lord Sheringham remained, irresolute, beside his
over-turned chair.
    ‘If your Grace will excuse me for a moment,’
murmured Sarre.   He approached to within
a couple of paces of the man who had once been his closest friend but who it
seemed was still out to destroy him and said quietly, ‘I offered to fight you
ten years ago, Marcus. You refused and let my father stand between us.   However, that offer still stands.   Unless you’re prepared to meet me, don’t make
me force the issue.’
    And, without waiting for an answer, he turned his
back and sat down between Philip and Harry Caversham.
    ‘Well done,’ said Harry, not bothering to lower
his voice. ‘If you need someone to act for you, I’ll be happy to oblige.’
    With a sound resembling a snarl, Lord Sheringham
stalked from the room, leaving his erstwhile companions staring at his
retreating back.
    Ignoring them, Rockliffe sighed gently and reached
for his snuff-box.  
    ‘If no one has any objection and the theatricals
are over for the evening, do you suppose we might finish the game?’
    ‘Why?’ grinned the Marquis of Amberley. ‘Because
you expect to win?’
    ‘I sense a certain probability,’ agreed Rockliffe.
    Sarre leaned back in his chair, avoided looking at
the cards and attempted to understand what had just happened.   The Duke had stepped in, seemingly on his own
behalf and the others had followed his lead.   In one way, this was easy to comprehend … in another, it made no sense
whatsoever.   The best that Sarre had hoped
for was polite acceptance but this had been much more than that and the reasons
for it eluded him.   Indeed, the only
thing that might account for it was a possibility that had never previously
occurred to him; the possibility that, in the last decade and in certain
quarters, Marcus Sheringham had made himself somewhat unpopular.
    While the others concluded their game, Lord Philip
quietly introduced Sarre to Jack Ingram and explained that Lord Amberley was
his own brother-in-law.   The Earl’s brows
rose at this and he murmured softly, ‘The one you shot?’
    Philip flushed.   ‘Yes. And before you ask – no, he didn’t miss me.   He deloped.’
    ‘Ah.’ A hint of humour stirred. ‘That can’t have
made it any better.’
    ‘No.   It
damned well didn’t.’
    Rockliffe won the game by a generous margin.