Page 63 of Tender Blackguard

Chapter Twenty-one

The private game room at the club was paneled in dark wood, which had been polished to a gleaming shine that reflected the light from the chandelier above the table. The liquor and food were French. And the stakes were high.

Alastair scowled as he stared at the cards he’d just been dealt. Then he slid a surreptitious glance at each of the other players. Marlowe sat across from him, grumbling beneath his breath. Lowndes was to his right, as smug and arrogant as always. And Chesterfield sat to his left.

He’d been laying the groundwork all evening—betting high, playing recklessly, drinking too much—and couldn’t wait much longer to enact the final aspect of his plan. As everyone placed their bets for the next round, he made sure to add a sigh of dramatic effect.

“My God, Warfield, if the play is too bloody steep, remove yourself from the game,” Marlowe muttered, finally giving Alastair the opportunity he needed. “I can’t stand another of your long-suffering groans.”

“Apologies, my lord. I’m afraid I can’t afford not to play. It’s all or nothing for me these days.”

“What are you talking about?” Chesterfield asked incredulously. “The Warfield coffers have always been fat. Your father certainly had no troubles. He lived a rather lavish lifestyle as I recall.”

“That’s the problem,” Alastair retorted as he downed the last of the fine brandy in his glass. Then he gestured to the footman standing in the corner for a refill. “The old man had no trouble at all spending the vast Warfield fortune, leaving nothing behind but debt. And I’ve just about run out of options to rectify his carelessness.”

“That can’t be true,” Marlowe argued.

“I assure you, it’s very true,” Alastair retorted sharply. “Warfield House is gutted. Everything not entailed has been sold. I know you were friends with my father, but all I inherited from the bastard was trouble.”

There was an awkward moment of silence when Alastair wondered if he’d gone too far, but then Chesterfield offered a kind smile. “Your father was a friend, that’s true, but we were well aware or his” —he shared a glance with Marlowe— “many faults, shall we say.”

“Yes, well, I beg your pardon, gentlemen, if I appear a bit desperate. Frankly, I am.”

Chesterfield laid the first card and the play began. Alastair did his best to appear unaware of the secret glances passing between the other men at the table.

“Have you no investments?” Lowndes asked after a couple rounds.

“I’ve looked into a few, but I’ve got no true collateral, and I’m new in town, so no one will give me an advance or a loan. People may remember my father, but no one knew I existed until a few months ago.”

“Your father had his reasons for keeping you away from London. I didn’t necessarily agree with him, but...” Chesterfield let his words fade off as he gave a dismissive gesture with one hand. “My point is that as your father’s oldest friends—and now yours—we’re here for you, my boy.”

Lord Marlowe grunted in a way that could have indicated agreement or annoyance.

Alastair twisted his lips into a wry smile as he tossed a card to the table. “Excellent. Do any one of you want to fund me for an investment venture?”

“No,” Lowndes replied smoothly, “but there is something we may be able to offer.”

“I’m only interested if it guarantees a healthy return. No speculation. I need a sure thing.”

“Don’t want much, do you?” Marlowe scoffed.

Alastair’s reply was a shrug as he tipped back his brandy. Thank God he’d managed to get to the footman ahead of time to offer a healthy bribe if the man could manage to serve him only from a bottle that had been carefully watered down. “Desperate, remember.”

Lowndes’s lips curved into a sly smile, but his gaze remained sharp as he met Alastair’s. “My offer shouldn’t be taken lightly. I’m giving you an opportunity that won’t come around often and pays a guaranteed fortune. There’s significant risk, but it’s not monetary.” He slid a glance to the other men. “Nor is the buy-in.”

Marlowe grumbled something to himself, but Chesterfield reached across the table to give his hand a grandfatherly pat. “I’d listen to the man if I were you, Warfield.” Then he laughed. “I did and I’m not the only one. I assure you, you won’t regret it.”

#

---