The Rakehell Regency(5)

Some of the men giggled nervously, but they all pulled out their billfolds and checkbooks.



"How much income did you say her estate is worth?" Timothy Bridges demanded.



"Twenty thousand pounds per annum."



"Right, I'm in."



Clifford raised one of his broad, strong hands to command everyone's attention. They all turned to look at his handsome classical features expectantly.



"Wait. Before we start, we must make the terms of play perfectly clear. It would be foolish to stake all on only one hand of vignt-un. What about the best of three wins the lady's hand?" he suggested.



Gerald was about to dismiss the proposal immediately simply because it had come from Clifford. But in view of the way his luck had been running lately, it seemed sensible not to stake all on only one hand.



"The best of five," he determined.



All nodded agreeably.



"One last point. Clear the room. We wouldn't want anyone to give the game away, now would we?" Clifford knew the fewer witnesses to what was about to take place, the better.



Gerald protested again, but he was outnumbered by the men around the table, and forced to acquiesce.



"Very well, then, since I'm out-voted. You heard him. All of you go, now. Shoo."



He cleared the room of people like so many geese in a yard while Malcolm continued to shuffle the cards expertly.





CHAPTER TWO



Once the elegant green and gold silk sitting room was quiet and Gerald had resumed his seat, Malcolm explained he would lay out the cards upon the baize table, one face down, one face up, in front of each of the seven players.



He hadn't spent a lot of years in Bath and London in his younger and wilder days for nothing. Of course, only Clifford, his closest friend, knew he had saved the Branson family fortunes at the card tables several years before, when his father and uncle had been duped into a series of bad investments that had virtually bankrupted them both.



Malcolm had tracked down the men responsible, and quietly but comprehensively got the family's money back. He had also exposed the men for the scheming liars they really were.



While Malcolm, upon principle, had never cheated his bosom companions, he'd read Clifford's look of desperation correctly. Feeling sorry for the girl Clifford was so determined to aid, he was now prepared to use all of his underhanded sharper's skills to help secure his friend's desired outcome. He knew Clifford well enough to be certain he was not doing it for Vanessa's fortune.



All the same, he was worried. Gerald was a bluff, hearty country squire with a native cunning and the manners of a rutting boar. He was a rampant Tory who loathed the refined Radical landowner Clifford Stone with a violence bordering on mania. When Clifford did win, what exactly would Gerald do?



But there was no time to worry about that now.



"Deal," Gerald commanded imperiously, before knocking back his brandy and shoving the glass toward James Cavendish.



James filled it, and the pair winked at each other.



Malcolm caught the exchange as he dealt the cards and did his utmost to avoid looking at his friend.



Clifford too kept his eyes firmly fixed on the table as if completely absorbed in the game. He prayed Malcolm would have enough sense not to let him win every hand in too obvious a fashion. If Gerald smelt a rat, the game could well be up for poor Vanessa after all.



Malcolm made sure that Clifford won the first hand, dealing him a ten and king off the bottom, but for the next two hands he let the cards fall as they would.



The second proved a tie with Gerald and James Cavendish on nineteen. Gerald won the second tie-breaking hand when he stood on eighteen and James went over.



Timothy Bridges triumphed in the third round with a natural vignt-un.



In the fourth hand, Malcolm once again controlled the cards that fell to Clifford, letting him tie with Charles Cavendish and Toby Stephens on twenty-one. Clifford eventually won the second hand when Charles, with raven hair and squinting blue eyes, became more and more drunk and foul-tempered. He asked for another card on sixteen, and went over. Toby had nineteen, Clifford twenty.



Gerald's normally florid complexion turned dark crimson at Charles' seemingly careless play. He began tugging at his frayed cravat. Clifford wondered if he might have an apoplectic fit right there at the table and end this farce once and for all.



He also saw that Gerald would lodge a protest if Clifford were to win yet another hand. He risked a glance over at Malcolm, who dealt a winning hand of twenty to James Cavendish instead. Gerald desperately tried to bluff, but James held out to the end, and emerged victorious.



"We have played five hands. Clifford Stone is the clear winner with two hands," Malcolm stated. "Mr. Hawkesworth, you have your money on the table. I trust your sister will be content with the arrangement."