Page 43 of A Figure of Love

Again he shrugged. “I don’t trust anyone. Except you.”

Gareth knew that all too well. He believed his friend was suspicious to his own detriment. But it was possible he himself was not suspicious enough. It was tiresome to think of such matters, and ultimately unimportant. What could people take from him other than money? And he could always make more of that, as his history had shown over and over.

Gareth straightened the already straight pile of ledgers that rested to one side of the open book before looking up. “I will be staying here until I have seen to the shifting of the rock.”

Dec nodded his head slowly, his eyes no longer laughing. “Very well. I shall remain until it is decent to travel, and then I will see to some business in London.”

“The pottery or the docks?”

“Something new,” he said, his smile mysterious.

Gareth knew better than to ask what he meant when he was in one of these moods. He would give his life for Declan McElroy, but that did not mean the man didn’t often make him positively murderous with his moody and unpredictable behavior.

∞∞∞

The last plate had been cleared away and Serena stood. “I will leave you gentlemen to your port.”

“Perhaps you might share our port with us tonight, Mrs. Lombard?”

Serena looked across at the Irishman with more than a little surprise. “I beg your pardon?” She glanced at Lockheart, but he appeared happy to spectate.

McElroy gave her a grin she knew was meant to disarm women. It did not work with her. “It is a wretched night yet still early.” His grin grew. “Not a good night for evening strolls. Why don’t we retire to somewhere more comfortable and keep one another entertained? Isn’t that the way of things in the country?”

He’d already let her know he did not like her. What was he up to now?”

Serena gave him a smile laced with false regret. “I hope you are not looking to me to play the piano or sing. I’m afraid my accomplishments do not lie in that direction.”

He laughed. “I had something less elevated in mind. Do you play cards, Mrs. Lombard?”

Mr. Lockheart gave his friend a sharp look, which he ignored.

What was going on here?

“I play Cribbage and Piquet. Is that what you mean?”

His mobile mouth tilted up on one side. “Something like that.” He turned to Lockheart. “What say you, Gare? It’s been a while since we have pitted our wits against one another.”

Lockheart gave his friend a long, silent, and not very friendly look. Serena thought it was the equivalent of another man’s version of telling him to go to hell. But in the end, he nodded.

“If you wish.”

McElroy clapped his hands together and rubbed them enthusiastically. “Excellent! I believe I saw a smallish table in the library that could be put to the purpose.” He nodded to one of the footmen lining the wall. “Have the port brought to the library. And one of you fetch a deck of cards from my room. Pierson will show you where one is.” He offered Serena his arm and she laid a hand on his sleeve, glancing at Lockheart.

McElroy grinned at his friend. “Sorry, old chap, you walk alone tonight.”

The next few hours were some of the oddest in her life—a life that held no shortage of odd moments. There was a tension between the two men she had not noticed before, and there were uncomfortable currents in the room she did not understand.

Once in the library, a table was moved closer to the fire, a shawl was fetched for Serena, and cards arrived.

McElroy broke the seal on a new pack and commenced to shuffle them in a manner that proclaimed his familiarity with gambling louder than words would have done.

“How would you feel about learning a new game, Mrs. Lombard. It is called vingt-et-un.”

Mr. Lockheart crossed his arms but made no sound.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that.”

“Ah, I thought you might have.” His smirk reminded her of a serpent.