He could not have found more comfortable accommodations at the Pulteney or the Grand Hotel, if they had found his person and his purse acceptable, which he doubted. Here the servants were more than anxious to please. With none of the family in residence except the young officer, and no other guests, Adam was their best hope of earning extra money for Christmas.
The lieutenant’s man was altering a coat to fit Adam’s more muscular frame. The cook was fixing a special dinner. The stable lads were giving the dog a bath, while the head groom was making Lucky a leather collar and lead. The housekeeper was even arranging a bed for the dog in Adam’s room, out of an old yellowed petticoat from the rag bag . . . a silk petticoat.
Adam shook his head. No, what he was thinking was impossible. On the other hand, he decided to stay on for Miss Relaford’s party. He would send funds back to Standings in the morning, so there was no need for him to race home tomorrow, not when he had such luxurious digs in town, and not when he could see the woman of his dreams once more without having to be asleep. Just a few hours ago he had decided not to stay, not to torment himself further with what he could never have, but now . . . Well, now the impossible seemed not quite so improbable, and never was not so far away.
After the best dinner Adam had had in years, and after they had caught up on all the news of other schoolmates, the progress of the war, the price of corn, Lieutenant Cresswell suggested they go for a hand or two of cards to one of the gambling parlors, far more entertaining than the sedate gentlemen’s clubs.
“You must know,” Johnny told him, “that I am feeling particularly lucky tonight, having found an old friend to share my meal. I hate eating by myself.”
Adam had never thought about it, but now that he did, he realized that he ate all his meals with an agricultural journal or a newspaper propped in front of him. Conversation would be nice, and a pretty face to look at. Not that Johnny was not good company, just not the company he’d rather have. He said, “I am glad to be of service to stave off your solitude, but, as for the cards, you’ll have to excuse me. My funds are limited enough without chancing the loss of a single groat.”
“You never were much of a gambler, now that I recall. Still, come along, won’t you? There is always free wine and pretty girls, and you are growing as somber as a Sunday sermon. Besides, one never knows. If I win enough, I might even be able to repay that blunt you lent me.”
“I never lent you—oh, you mean the hundred pounds? Lud, I never meant that as a loan. It was a gift, so you could buy your colors when your father would not advance you the ready. I could not go off to fight for king and country, not with my own father ailing, so I provided the funds for you to go.”
“Yes, but with brass you could ill afford to give, that inheritance from your mother. I never forgot, although I must admit the money has been in and out of my hands any number of times. Still, I have every intention of repaying you.”
Granted, when Adam gave over the money, he had not known quite how bad things were at Standings, but he did not regret helping his friend. “Gammon. If I had not given you the blunt, my father would have used it to buy more horses, or to wager on the ones he already owned.”
“Yes, well, my own pater still keeps me on a tight rein or I would have repaid you ages ago. It always seemed I had a pressing need when the dibs were in tune. Now I am beforehand with the world, thank heaven, and living at Cresswell House at no expense, so perhaps tonight we will both be lucky.”
“I have to admit that sum would be more than welcome to meet my own commitments so, yes, let us go to your gambling den for wine, women, and wagering. Lud knows I wish that you end the night a wealthy man!”
There he was in his borrowed finery, looking fine as five pence, with more than five pence in his pocket for once, yet Adam was not truly enjoying himself. The ladybirds held no interest for him, and he had barely recovered from the day’s headache, so saw no reason to give himself another pounding skull by overindulging in wine. He did find some old friends to greet, but they were more interested in losing their blunt than making conversation. Some of the others present were not men Adam wished to know, not with their glittering, feral eyes and nervous, darting hands.
For the most part, he watched Lieutenant Cresswell play. Johnny was not any Captain Sharp, but neither was he a gullible flat. He won some, then lost it back, then won a bit more. He went from faro to piquet to the dice to vingt-et-un. Adam could not see what pleasure anyone got in watching their stacks of counters disappear, but he supposed the mere thought of winning was enough for the serious players with their intense stares and sweating brows.