Lady Susan Plays the Game by Janet Todd

stayed and paid into the pool. The stakes became high: she might still win. But when she exchanged her hand, again she failed. She glanced around for Jack Fortuny but he wasn’t there.
    Looks were turned on her. Did she discern an unusual pity? Jack Fortuny had complimented her on her ability to lose stoically. It made her a welcome guest and player – unlike the histrionic Lady Glint – but it also meant that no one ever intervened. No fear she would be found on Westminster Bridge at midnight, whatever her loss. Perhaps she’d imagined the sympathy. Her affairs were not, after all, common knowledge.
    To herself she could not deny that she needed money despite the unexpected bank draft. Frederica had not yet had the new clothes; Langford was country but the girl would be more in public than in Norfolk and must be ready for any eventuality. And she herself required a thicker short coat – country houses were always cold – as well as a better pelisse for strolling out of doors in the late autumn. Her old thinner one had long since graced Barton’s back. She was content toremain in black since it set off her light hair and pallor, but the ornaments that adorned weeds had to be expensive. She supposed there would be little competition in Hampshire, so perhaps she need not expend so very much.
    Her horses had been stabled near Hyde Park while she was marooned in Norfolk; now she ordered them to be sold off. There would be no profit since she owed as much for their stabling. It was best also to dispose of a few trinkets – little boxes and ornaments and some out-of-date jewellery – before they left; most were from Lord Gamestone. She had seen him a few times during these weeks, once in the Duke of Devonshire’s soirée where they had flirted discreetly. Then they had done a little more at her lodgings, due care being taken both of Frederica and the landlady. His lordship seemed as fond as ever, claiming he had withered away in her absence. Yet he did not look diminished and his presents were, she thought, a little less substantial.
    He had lost some of his allure with absence. Perhaps they were simply tired of each other, or perhaps he had found a replacement. Jack Fortuny was often with him: she would enquire.
    She was pleased at the draft from Reeve & Reeve but dissatisfied that it was not bigger. How did a woman make money for herself? How did a man? Sometimes, as now, she chafed at the constraints of her sex. A man with half her energy and skill could make a figure in the world. Look at Charles Vernon. Men grew rich moving money round inbonds or shares; some sneered at them, but only behind their backs. Might she borrow and try her hand? Poor Henriette was rumoured to have lost money in overseas speculation at the Palais-Royal. There had been, and still was, more leeway in France. Here in London she would have to work with a man – Jack Fortuny, perhaps. But no, nothing out of the common way took; in England there was but one way for a woman to flourish.
    Several acquaintances had only just arrived in town from the country and it was a good time for balls, concerts and the theatre, as well as gaming. The Prince of Wales was at Carlton House with his usual gay set but Lady Susan had sufficient self-control largely to avoid his circle – the sums of money won and lost there were quite beyond her. Yet there was some overlap and in the past she’d enjoyed occasionally being at Carlton House, usually with Lord Gamestone, who affected to be bored by the Prince but lost no opportunity of attending him.
    Not long before the two weeks were up Lady Susan was at Lord Cawton’s tables. Jack Fortuny was there. He was losing just enough to make himself credible to those who sometimes doubted his character. She was glad to see him.
    â€˜Lovelier than ever, but perhaps a little thinner?’
    â€˜Possibly so, Jack, the country is wearying.’
    â€˜It has been a desert here