Caprice: The Masqueraders Series - Book One by Laura Parker Page B

occasionally, if only to confirm that one is, indeed, speculating on reasonable chance, and not providing a one-man charity bazaar for his friends and acquaintances!”
    Emory closed his eyes as Hadrian’s voice thundered like cannon shot over his head. “I say, Hades, I’m no magician with the cards, but I can hold my own.”
    The fact that Emory had let slip Hadrian’s nickname of long ago confirmed what Hadrian suspected, that Emory had not inherited a head for spirits either. It seemed Emory had little to recommend himself beyond his perfect profile and superb tailoring.
    Whose fault is that? his conscience goaded him. Who should have been here to teach him and guide him, and protect him until he came into his own?
    With his own setdown ringing in his ears, Hadrian gathered the cards and began shuffling the deck. “Attend to me, Emory. I wish to demonstrate a point.” With a patience at odds with his temper, he explained each and every cheater’s trick he had used, and how it could be spotted.
    “Deuced clever of you, brother,” Emory allowed in fascination when he was done. “I never suspected a one.”
    “That does you as little credit as it does me,” Hadrian replied. “In fact, it confirms my suspicions.” He looked his brother square in the eye. “I think your esquire has been cheating. And you, dear brother, have been his gull.”
    Emory wet his lips but he did not deny the accusation. Now that he thought about it, he could not remember how Tibbitts came to be a part of his set. The man had appeared one day at his club, as a guest of another member. Recommended by the friend of a friend to join their table, Tibbitts had quickly shown himself to be amicable, well spoken, well dressed, and ever disposed to a game of chance. That he lived by his wits was acknowledged, though none ever complained about his extraordinary luck. Tibbitts was a right ’un—for a commoner; that was what everyone said.
    “Daresay there’s no question of pursuing the matter with Tibbitts,” he ventured, hoping that his brother would simply shrug the matter off. “One can’t very well tottle up to him and say, ‘By the by, old man, it’s come to my attention that you might be indulging in sleight of hand when we sit down to a game of cards.” He shook his head and a shaft of dark hair fell forward across his handsome brow. “Not at all the thing.”
    Emory’s acquiescence in the matter incensed Hadrian. Where was the boy’s backbone? Was a Blackburne to simply roll over like a dog? His hands shook with rage as he restacked the deck, but he was determined not to act on it. He did not wish to see his brother cower again.
    “It comes to mind, Emory, that there’s no satisfaction like that of bearding a lion in his den,” he said when he had regained control of his emotions.
    When Emory lifted his eyes he saw a positively wicked grin spread across Hadrian’s face. “You mean, diddle him at his own game?” The idea set his own eyes agleam. “Always thought there was something havey-cavey about Tibbitts.” Within seconds of saying it, he actually believed his own words. “Show me a few of those cheats again. I want to catch him red-handed.”
    “Tibbitts would be highly suspicious if you suddenly arrived on his doorstep and demanded a game of cards,” Hadrian cautioned. “I must think this through.” In fact, he had already determined that it would be wiser if he, not they, sought a satisfactory retribution. Emory’s enthusiasm for the scheme might betray them ahead of time. “Be a good lad and ring to have the carriage sent round. I could do with a dose of fresh air and fair company. How about you?”
    Emory’s grin nearly slid off his face. “I know the place. There’s a girl by the name of Lily who knows this trick …”

3
    London, May
    “I’ve been thinking, Clarie, my love,” Heloise announced cheerfully as both ladies sat in the breakfast parlor of her London residence in Park Street.
    Clarissa