The Dark Earl by Virginia Henley Page B

lucky!”
    “That’s skill, not luck, Rachel,” Harry corrected as she collected the pile of halfpennies the girls had bet in their afternoon card game in the drawing room.
    “It’s due to all the practice she’s had,” Beatrix informed Rachel. “When we are in Ireland, she plays daily with the stable hands. She’s learned all the tricks of the trade.”
    “You mean she cheats,” Jane said sweetly.
    “Only when I’ve exhausted every other means,” Harry pointed out.
    “Then you must teach me how to cheat,” Rachel said.
    “Anyone can cheat. Getting away with it is what I must teach you. Watch closely.” Harry dealt the cards slowly. “Tomorrow I’ll show you the intricacies of casting dice.”
     
     
    That evening, Harry and Rachel began to dress for Lady Emily’s debutante ball.
    “I’d never met the Curzon-Howes before. The earl’s wife doesn’t look very old.”
    Harry laughed. “She isn’t. Anne is only a couple of years older than I am. The earl is a lot older than his second wife, but he’s still randy. Gave her a son before they’d been wed a year, then quickly added another son and a daughter. Lady Emily does whatever she pleases. Her stepmother is too busy with her own children to know or care what Emily is up to.”
    “Isn’t the countess Irish?”
    “Yes—her maiden name was Gore. She’s from Kilkenny, the same county as James.”
    “They must know each other, then,” Rachel surmised. “Do you think Lord Butler will be there tonight?”
    “I shouldn’t be at all surprised.”
    “In that case, I’ll wear my turquoise gown. It’s far more flattering than the gray.”
    There was a sharp rap on their bedchamber door. “Can you speed it up, Harry? We’re already over an hour late,” young James complained.
    “What the devil’s your hurry? It’s only a debutante ball.” Suddenly it dawned on Harry that her brother was itching to get his hands on Lady Emily. She winked at Rachel. “Better be discreet about fondling Emily. She has an older brother who could plant you a facer.”
    “Ha! Leicester Curzon-Howe is no match for me. I take boxing lessons, y’know.”
     
     
    The Earl and Countess of Howe, along with Lady Emily, who had greeted their guests in the entrance hall of their Grosvenor Square mansion, had moved on to the ballroom by the time the Hamiltons arrived.
    As she invariably managed to do, Lady Lu drew every eye when she made her entrance. Tonight she was wearing fuchsia silk with diamonds blazing at her throat. Her three daughters and her younger sister, who were also exquisitely gowned, added to the impressive tableau.
    “He’s here!” Rachel murmured happily as she spotted Lord Butler.
    “Go forth and conquer,” Harry whispered.
    D’Arcy Lambton hurried across the ballroom. “I’ve been waiting hours. Where have you been, Harry?”
    “Teaching Rachel how to cheat at cards. I come by it naturally, but would you believe that some females are most inept when it comes to deceit?”
    “I warrant you get away with it only because you are beautiful.”
    “That’s blatant flattery. You must have an ulterior motive.”
    “I do. I want to wed you and bed you—not necessarily in that order.”
    “Then you’d better get in line, Lord Durham.”
    Harry was deeply disappointed that Thomas Anson had not been invited. She hadn’t really expected him to be there, but she had kept a faint glimmer of hope alive until she had searched the entire ballroom with her eyes. The night will seem endless.
     
     
    “James, the night seemed endless until you arrived.” Lady Emily led her partner to the refreshment room, and lifted a glass of champagne to his lips. Then she placed her mouth where his had been and finished the wine. She licked her lips. “I can taste you.”
    James felt his cock lift its head and lengthen.
    Emily knowingly glanced down at the bulge in his trousers. “If I told you that you had a manly body, would you hold it against me, Jamie?”