Page 17 of The King's Man
‘I’ll walk with you,’ Kit said. ‘I need some fresh air after that vile tobacco you smoke.’
Fitz smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘We all have our vices, lad. Yours are women and cards. Mine are tobacco and wine.’
‘And execrable poetry,’ Kit added. ‘Don’t forget your talents as a poet, my friend!’
In the taproom, Thamsine turned and he raised a hand in farewell. She smiled in response. He felt a pang of regret. It would have been pleasant to have passed the rest of the evening sparring with Mistress Granville.
Outside the cold air hit them like a belt of sobering water.
‘I’ve no mind for my bed, yet a while,’ Fitz said. ‘I hear there is a card game at the Saracen’s Head. Fancy a chance to improve your purse?’
They lurched down the Strand towards ‘the Head’.Another dingy, smoke-filled tavern, Kit thought gloomily as Fitz wove his way between the tables to the private parlour.
Through the haze of tobacco smoke, he could make out a table of card players with about a dozen men standing around watching the game.
They waited until the hand had finished and took the seats of the losers.
‘Well, well.’ The man shuffling the cards set them down. ‘Fitzjames, unless I’m mistaken.’
Fitz’s face flashed with recognition. ‘My God. Ambrose Morton. I haven’t seen you since … must be ’47. I heard you were in The Hague. What brings you to London?’
‘Personal business,’ the man replied, moving his gaze to Kit. Kit met the cold eyes in the dark, handsome face of a man some years older than him.
‘Do you know Lovell?’ Fitz enquired.
‘No, but I have heard the name.’ Morton held out his hand. ‘Colonel Ambrose Morton.’
‘Captain Christopher Lovell,’ Kit replied.
Morton spread his hands in an encompassing gesture. ‘Shall I deal?’
With practised ease, the cards flew from his hand. Kit took the first hand and Morton dealt the cards again.
‘Lovell?’ Morton mused, his eyes on his cards. ‘Ah yes. Kit Lovell. I have heard of you. Your reputation precedes you. Few can beat you at cards, as I hear tell.’
‘I have some poor talent at cards,’ Kit replied without looking up.
‘There are many ways of winning at cards, is there not, Captain Lovell?’
Kit felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise and he glanced up to see Morton’s narrowed eyes fixed on him. ‘Are you implying something, Morton?’
Morton raised a placating hand. ‘Not at all, Captain Lovell.’
Kit pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. ‘I have never met you before tonight, Morton, but I will not sit here and have my honour so impugned. Come, Fitz.’
Fitz rose to his unsteady feet. ‘But I’ve got a good hand, Lovell.’
Kit turned his cards over. ‘I would have did not need tricks to win this hand, Morton, but I’ve lost my taste for cards.’
For a moment the two men’s eyes locked. Morton inclined his head. ‘I meant no insult, Captain Lovell. Perhaps some other time?’
‘Perhaps,’ Kit said.
Outside in the cold air, he pulled his cloak around him.
‘Not like you to take on so,’ Fitz grumbled.
‘I have no time for that sort of man,’ Kit said striding ahead of Fitz.
