Free The Rogue by Arpan B Page B

forcing herself to walk sedately, and
perhaps even a bit weakly, until she reached a hall where she knew no
one would be about. Then she ran, her slippers making a sound like
bird wings on the runner.
    Jane
hurriedly tried the first five keys at random, until her nervous
fingers dropped the ring to the carpet and caused her to lose all
track of what she had tried.
    "Oh,
horse apples!" she hissed to herself. Then she forced herself to
slow her frenzy. Methodically using one key, then the next, then the
next, she worked her way around the key ring until only two remained.
    The
second-to-last key slid easily into the keyhole and she heard the
tumblers within give a well-oiled turn. The door was open.
    Quickly
she picked up her candle and slipped within.
     
    Lord
Maywell's house was very fine, although Ethan had detected a bit of
crumbling about the edges, but one could tell that it was in his
lordship's card room where truly no expense was spared. The fine
plush chairs, the deep emerald felt on the card table—even the
chandelier was one especially commissioned to shine downward onto the
cards without creating a glare for the players. Ethan knew this
because he'd fancied installing one just like it someday.
    It
was clear that his lordship took his card playing most seriously.
    Ethan
seated himself at the remaining empty chair with a nod of apology to
Lord Maywell. "I beg your pardon, my lord."
    Maywell
stared at him for a moment, obviously waiting for an explanation, but
Ethan had none to give. He could hardly tell the man he'd been
rubbing body parts with Lady Jane, could he?
    The
cards were dealt and Ethan began to get down to the business of
playing. He'd no backup cards on him tonight, for he'd sworn he
wasn't coming here. He was reduced to using the basics—observation,
distraction, bluff—to create just the right environment for
Lord Maywell to begin to win.
    Surely
if his lordship beat Ethan Damont at cards, he'd lose interest in
extending any more such invitations. Without such invitations, the
Liar's Club couldn't very well expect Ethan to continue with this
madness?
    Except
Maywell wasn't winning.
    Ethan
watched the cards and the other players carefully. The fellows at the
table were all cut from the same cloth. They played with careless
panache, the way gentlemen were supposed to play. One didn't quibble
over the loss of a few or twenty pounds at the tables. To even
consider such a trivial loss would imply that one wasn't entirely
flush—a deadly fate in Society.
    No,
it couldn't be that one of them was interfering with his control of
the game. That only left himself—and while his heart wasn't
truly into it, he was still capable of manipulating such an easy
table—and Lord Maywell. Finally, Ethan gave in and allowed his
lordship to lose. As the pot was gathered, the vowels totaled, and
the cards shuffled, Ethan sat back and contemplated Lord Maywell
through the wafting tobacco smoke.
    Maywell
was contemplating him right back.
    Well,
this wasn't going quite as planned. Ethan would have to come up with
another way to never be invited back. "Your niece seems a fine
young lady," he said conversationally.
    Maywell
nodded. "We've grown very fond of Jane," he said
tonelessly.
    Ethan
raised a brow. "Grown? Were you not fond of her before?"
    The
other blokes froze at that impertinence, sliding their wary gaze
between Ethan and Maywell, who both sat cool and relaxed, leaning
back in their chairs in an open manner.
    Maywell
only grunted. "Never knew her before this Season. She's my
wife's sister's daughter. They'd not talked for years. Then one day
here comes Jane with a carriage full of trunks, to stay with us for
the summer."
    Ethan
could tell the others were fascinated with any tidbit about Jane.
That bothered him a bit. He ignored it. "That must be very nice
for you all," he said, in a voice implying he could not care
less. "She's not much to look at though, is she?"
    The
others began to protest avidly. Lady Jane was