Free Faro's Daughter by Georgette Heyer Page B

that was hard to recover from Lady Bellingham had done her best by introducing the game of E.O. into her rooms, but even this had not gone very far to set matters to rights, since serious gamesters were inclined to despise it, and it certainly could not be said to improve tone of the house. In fact, as Deborah said bitterly, it reduced it to the ranks of quite common gaming-hells.
    It had been one of Lucius Kennet’s ideas, well-meant, of course, but very displeasing to Miss Grantham. He had lately been talking of the new game of roulette, which seemed to be played on much the same principles as E.O., but Miss Grantham was determined that no roulette board should make its appearance in St James’s Square.
    Mr Kennet, when Miss Grantham joined him, was idly engaged in casting the dice, right hand against left, on a small table in the centre of the room. ‘Good morning, me darlin’,’ he said cheerfully, not desisting from his occupation. ‘Will you look at the fiend’s own luck of my left hand, now? Upon my soul, it can’t lose!’ He cast a shrewd glance at Miss Grantham’s rather pensive expression, and added: ‘What’s the trouble, me dear? Is it Ormskirk again, or will it be the suckling;”
    ‘It isn’t either,’ replied Deborah, sitting down on the opposite side of the table. ‘At least, no more than I’m used to. Lucius, what is to become of us?’
    ‘Why, what should become of you at all?’
    ‘My aunt is quite distracted. There are nothing but bills!’
    ‘Ah, throw them in the fire, me dear.’
    ‘You know well that won’t answer! I wish you will stop casting the bones!’
    He gathered them up into the palm of one hand, tossing them into the air, and catching them as they fell. There was a smile in his eyes as he answered: ‘Your heart’s not in this, is it?’
    ‘Sometimes I think I hate it,’ she admitted, sinking her chin into her cupped hands, and glowering. ‘Oh, the devil, Lucius I’m no gamester!’
    ‘You chose it, me darlin’. I’d say ’twas in your blood.’
    ‘Well, and so I thought, but it’s tedious beyond anything I ever dreamed of! I think I will have a cottage in the country one day, and keep hens.’
    He burst out laughing. ‘God save the hens! And you supping off lobsters every night, and wearing silks, and fallals, and letting the guineas drip through the pretty fingers of you!’
    Her eyes twinkled; the corners of her humorous mouth quivered responsively. ‘That’s the devil of it,’ she confessed. ‘What’s to be done?’
    ‘There’s the suckling,’ he drawled. ‘I doubt he’d be glad to give you your cottage, if it’s that you want, so you might play at keeping farm, like the sainted French Queen, God rest he soul!’
    ‘You know me better!’ she said, with a flash. ‘Do you think I would serve a romantic boy such a turn as that? A rare thing for him to find himself tied to a gamester five years the elder!’
    ‘You know, Deb,’ he said, watching the rise and fall of hi dice through half-shut eyes, ‘there are times I’ve a mind to run off with you meself.’
    She smiled, but shook her head. ‘When you’re foxed, may be.’
    His hand shut on the dice; he turned his head to look at her. ‘Be easy; I’m sober enough. What do you say, me darlin’? Will you throw in your lot with a worthless fellow that will never come to any good in this world, let alone the next?
    ‘Are you offering for me, Lucius?’ she demanded, blinking at him.
    ‘Sure I’m offering for you! It’s mad I am entirely, but what of that? Come adventuring with me, me love! I’ll swear you’ve the spirit for it!’
    She gave him one of her clear looks. ‘If I loved you, Lucius; I don’t, you see. Not as your wife, but only as your good friend.’
    ‘Ah well!’ he said, tossing up the dice again. ‘I doubt it’s for the best!’
    ‘Indeed, I don’t think you would make a very good husband,’ she said reflectively. ‘You would be wishing me at the devil before a