Page 12 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
Lucy understood. When she’d first learned to play, she’d had to focus quite heavily on the game. Now it was second nature for her to track the cards and strategize while conversing with her tablemates. That was what happened when your father taught you to play cards as soon as you could count.
The wagering was frustratingly light on this hand. Lucy longed to raise the stakes but was waiting for a signal from Dartford. He spoke of horses and shooting, and Lucy had to bite her tongue to keep from contributing, since those were two of her favorite subjects.
Lord Henderson, a gentleman in the thick of middle age with a ruddy countenance and a persistence for clearing his throat, squinted at Dartford. “Used to set up targets—baskets hanging from trees—on the estate when we were young. I’m an excellent shot, if I may boast.”
“Yes, yes,” the fourth member of their table, Mr. Wells, said. He was a few years younger than Henderson, or perhaps it was just that he looked more robust. “You shoot at Manton’s at least once a week. Though I daresay you aren’t as good as you once were.” He laid down his card, and they took the trick.
Dartford led the next. “I haven’t been shooting at Manton’s in an age.” He glanced around the table. “I just picked up a pistol from Purdey’s last month.”
Henderson laid down his card, a pathetic two of clubs. “Bah. It’s a Manton or nothing for me.” He cleared his throat for what had to be the dozenth time.
“I’ve always been partial to Wogdon myself,” Wells said.
Lucy had shot her father’s Manton pistol when she was younger, before he’d lost it in a wager. The weapon she carried now wasn’t anywhere near the caliber of the guns they were discussing. She looked at Dartford. “I should like to shoot one of Purdey’s pistols.”
Dartford arched a brow as he peered at her. “Yes, I seem to recall you like pistols.”
Lucy swallowed a chuckle at his comment.
“I’m in need of a new rifle.” Wells put down the four of hearts. “I’ll have a look at Purdey’s.”
How Lucy wished she could afford such things. But what would she do with it? It wasn’t as if she’d be invited to hunt grouse come August. Perhaps she could set up a target range when they moved to their new cottage. She stifled a smile at Grandmama’s horror if she proposed such a thing.
At last Dartford offered a friendly wager, which was accepted around the table. The betting was small at first, almost inconsequential, but by the end of the hand, Lucy was ahead ten pounds. She hoped the wagers would increase—and that she’d retain her luck with the cards—in the next round, but she didn’t show it. Father had taught her how to shield her emotions and reactions as well as he’d schooled her in everything else.
Dartford took over as dealer for the next round. Lucy lost a few wagers and began to worry that she’d suffer her first losing evening.
Partway through the hand, Henderson squinted at Dartford. “I’ve been thinking about those Purdey guns. I should like to see which one fires better. I’ll put my money on Manton.”
“How much money?” Lucy asked.
Dartford shot her a look of surprise with maybe just a touch of irritation. She ought to have censored herself, but why? She was playing the part of a gentleman, andtheywere allowed to speak their mind.
Henderson shrugged, then looked around the table. “A hundred quid.”
Lucy’s heart sank. She didn’t have that kind of money yet. Anyway, she didn’t know what gun maker she’d place her wager on.
Henderson sat forward in his chair, his eyes gleaming. “We must do this.”
Wells chuckled. “How do you propose we execute such an endeavor?”
Dartford looked from Henderson to Wells. “We’ll use a vise to hold the pistol. That’s the only way to objectively compare them. Although I don’t know where we’ll accomplish that.”
Henderson gave them all a superior perusal. “Manton’s, of course.”
“He’ll let you fire the other weapons?” Wells asked.
Henderson laughed but ended by clearing his throat. “’Course he will, because his gun is going to win.”
“My money’s on the Purdey,” Dartford said.
“And I’m for the Wogdon.” Wells turned his head to look at Lucy. “What about you, Smitty?”
How she wished she could afford to participate!
Dartford cocked his head to the side. “Yes, Smitty, which one?”
She glared at him for the briefest moment before reining in her reaction. Gritting her teeth, she tried to somehow silently communicate that she didn’t have that kind of money. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to say,” she said, disappointed that she wouldn’t get to see the experiment in person.
