Page 10 of The Baron’s Halo

At that, Miss Devereaux sat down across from him and Julius took his seat again. “Come on, cousin. Tempus fugit. We must make the most of it as we are able.”

With a heavy sigh, Sandy took his place opposite Lady Augusta, whose face now held a self-satisfied smirk. How had his scheme to spend time as Miss Devereaux’s partner gone so awry? “So we should, cousin.” Sandy sat and picked up the deck of cards. “Whose deal?”

The play that proceeded was swift and terrible.

Sandy and Lady Augusta won every hand save one that Miss Devereaux took by a fluke. They then played a second set with the same partners—at Lady Augusta’s insistence—and with the same results. By the time he took the final trick, Miss Devereaux had managed to win a single hand once more. Julius, to his chagrin, had lost every hand. And while the wagering had been lackluster on everyone’s part save Lady Augusta’s, Julius and Miss Devereaux had lost a significant amount to them. Sandy was too embarrassed to suggest a third game, beside the fact that Julius was glaring at him as though he’d like to throttle him.

Although his cousin had seemed in a black mood from the moment Sandy entered the Egyptian room, Julius had gotten increasingly silent and sullen as his losses began to mount. Sandy had the idea that the root of the problem was his partner. Julius had wanted to partner Lady Augusta badly. What’s more, the lady knew this and had neatly circumvented his cousin’s arrangements for the game. After this evening Sandy might take Jules aside and talk to him seriously about abandoning his bid for Lady Augusta. The lady seemed not only disinterested but downright hostile to the idea of Julius’s suit. Perhaps it was time to cry enough.

“I believe we’ve managed to thrash our opponents thoroughly enough for one evening, Lord MacKay. No need to venture into a third round of play.” Lady Augusta all but crowed as she sat back, raking her half of the winnings toward her.

“Very well played, Lady Augusta, Lord MacKay.” Miss Devereaux’s even tone and warm smile served as rebuke enough to him and his partner in its sincere congratulations. “I fear whist was not my game tonight.” She turned a consoling gaze on her partner. “I beg you to forgive me, Lord Boxtd. I seem to have done you no good at all this evening.”

The storm clouds brewing in Julius’s face, directed solely at Lady August, dissipated when he turned his gaze on his partner. “On the contrary, Miss Devereaux, it is I who must beg your pardon. I am the one who lost most abysmally. You tried to rally us by winning a hand here and there. I truly wish you’d had a better partner.” He shot a look of pure misery at Lady Augusta. “Would either of you ladies like a refreshment? I think I must change my location if I am to change my luck.”

Neither lady accepted his offer, which made matters worse, and Julius took himself off with an offended huff.

“Well, I wish you would tell me, Sandy, what has gotten into your cousin. I’ve never seen him so surly.” Lady Augusta sounded sincere, but a flicker of a smile gave her away.

“I’m sorry, Lady Augusta, but I’m afraid I haven’t a clue. I haven’t seen him act like this before.” Of course he knew well and good what was eating at Jules. However, he couldn’t very well speak of it and remain true to his cousin. He could, however, give the lady a hint if she needed one. He shrugged. “Perhaps he’s in love. Men often act irrationally when Cupid’s arrow skewers their hearts.”

He took the cards and began to shuffle them. “Shall we play again? You will need to seek another partner, as I will claim Miss Devereaux for this next game.”

Lady Augusta gave him a keen look, then shook her head. “I must go to my mother. I believe she had engaged me to Lord Pike for a set.” She rose and Sandy jumped to his feet. “Good evening, my lord. Miss Devereaux. I wish you bon chance for the rest of the evening.” The lady straightened her shoulders and left without a backward glance.

Sandy resumed his seat and breathed a sigh of relief. At last he had Miss Devereaux to himself. “I’m sorry we seem to be down a pair of partners.” He continued to shuffle the deck, trying to think of a game that required only two players. Whatever happened, he did not intend to squander this opportunity. A novel idea reared its head. Why not take a totally different tack from his youngest cousin Tom? “Would you like to learn to play poker, Miss Devereaux?”

*

As soon as Lady Augusta left, Isabelle shook out her fan and commenced fanning herself vigorously. If she didn’t cool down she thought she might catch fire. The room was warm, granted, however the heat that overpowered her currently stemmed from her emotional turmoil brought about during the whist game they had just finished. Had the problem been her poor performance at cards, she doubted she’d be so distraught, so that now alone with Lord MacKay she would revert back to her normal feelings. But no, she was still distressed and she didn’t know why. Didn’t want to admit why was closer to the truth.

“Would you like to learn to play poker, Miss Devereaux?” Lord MacKay sat nonchalantly shuffling the deck, for all the world as though he had not a care to his name. But his gaze rested on her, and that made all the difference.

Another time she’d love to lean a new card game with him, but she could scarcely keep her mind on the conversation at the moment. Trying to actually learn something would end up disastrously, with Lord MacKay thinking her the worst of ninnies and never wishing to call upon her again. He must think her the most abominable partner imaginable, given her recent performance with his cousin. Best not add more fuel to the fire. “As you can see, my lord, tonight is simply not my night for cards. I’d better leave it to another night, if you wouldn’t mind. You saw my poor showing at whist—and I’ve been playing that game for years.”

“Sometimes the cards simply don’t fall your way, I’ll admit that.” He shuffled the cards one more time, then neatly dropped them into the ivory inlaid card box. “So if you will not play cards, how shall we pass the time?”

There might have been the faintest touch of suggestion in Lord MacKay’s voice, but Isabelle actually welcomed it. She’d spent most of the games tense as a toad, wondering if Lady Augusta had set her cap for Lord MacKay. The lady obviously was disinterested in Lord Boxtd—painfully so as the evening progressed. Did that mean she’d requested Lord MacKay particularly to partner her and Lord MacKay had brought Isabelle along as a consolation prize for his cousin? Isabelle had been surprised she hadn’t been partnered with Lord MacKay after his declaration yesterday, but tried to think nothing of it. Unfortunately, she could think of nothing else during their play. She’d been much more intent on Lord MacKay than her own partner, which had likely contributed to their overwhelming defeat. Every time Lord MacKay had met his partner’s eyes, or smiled at her, or laughed, Isabelle had felt the stirrings of jealousy ignite in her soul.

Lord Boxtd also seemed to mark the couple, keeping his attention on Lady Augusta during most of the games. No wonder they had done so poorly at whist. Too distracted to form a strategy, Isabelle had discarded willy-nilly, which cost them hand after hand. Her partner had done no better, and she could sympathize with him wholeheartedly. Which, when she thought about it, made no sense whatsoever. Why should she be jealous of Lord MacKay paying attention to Lady Augusta? She certainly didn’t wish to marry the gentleman.

But she had, somehow, come to expect Lord MacKay’s attention to be focused solely on her. A foolish notion, to be sure. They’d scarcely met one another. It had been only two days since Lady Winslow’s ball. And she’d long decided she couldn’t entertain the idea of marriage at all.

Yet, now she apparently longed for Lord MacKay’s attentions and resented anyone else who usurped them from her.

“Miss Devereaux?”

Isabelle shook her head, as if awakening from a dream. “Pardon me, my lord. I was—”

“Woolgathering?” His tone was rueful, but his eyes glinted with amusement. “By now you must have gathered together the largest bag of wool in London.”

Laughing, Isabelle caught his eye and the warmest connection she’d ever experienced with another person made her glow with happiness. “I should become a sheep farmer, shouldn’t I, my lord? I’d have an endless supply.”

“No one would ever be able to gain your attention, Miss Devereaux. You’d be forever sheering and gathering the wool.” His chuckle was deep and throaty, sending tingles down her spine. “I have sheep on my farms up in Scotland. You could gather wool there if you ever visit my castle in Carnwath.”

Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat, suddenly unsure of everything again. Was he or was he not attracted to her? That statement could be considered an invitation to visit him. Or she was making too much out of nothing. Probably the latter. Best to keep their banter light “Only after I’ve managed to purloin all the wool in England.”

“At your given rate of woolgathering, that should be about,” Lord MacKay took out a pocket watch and consulted it, “two hours and fifteen minutes from now.”