friend!’
‘Perhaps not,’ was the unconcerned reply. ‘However, the game does begin to lose savour. Might I be excused, gentlemen?’ Frobisher rose to his feet, bowed gracefully and departed with his winnings.
As the game continued between the three remaining players Lady Luck chose to turn her face to Mr Ffolliot. Emboldened by this, and the amount of champagne he had consumed, he recklessly raised the stakes.
‘Double each throw, gentlemen?’ he challenged.
Darleston nodded imperturbably, but Manders said bluntly, ‘Too high, Ffolliot. Don’t be a fool! Luck won’t stay with you all night. Especially if you can’t afford it! I’m out!’ He rose to his feet. ‘Excuse me, Darleston, I’ll see you later.’
Darleston smiled up at him, saying amiably, ‘Thanks for the game, Manders. You must dine with me soon. I feel sure our tastes have much in common!’
He tossed back his glass of brandy, refilled it, and said to Mr Ffolliot, ‘Fifty a throw, wasn’t it?’ The game proceeded, but Lady Luck, possibly affronted by Mr Ffolliot’s behaviour, began to favour Darleston. That pile of guineas slowly made its way across the table. Finally they were all in front of Darleston.
‘Do you wish to continue, Mr Ffolliot?’ he asked politely.
‘Yes! Damn you! Double the stakes!’ slurred Ffolliot. The luck had to change! He glared at his opponent defiantly.
Darleston looked at him carefully. It was not in his nature to refuse a challenge, but it went against the grain to win money from a drunken youth who most certainly could not afford it. Wryly he admitted to himself that he had certainly provoked Ffolliot earlier. His code of honour dictated that it was time to call a halt.
The words were on the tip of his tongue when Ffolliot said loudly, ‘I don’t like your dice, Darleston!’ A dead silence came over the room. People turned to stare in disbelief. To accuse Darleston of cheating was unthinkable! His courage, honour and pride were a matter of public record. George Carstares, who had just come back into the room with Lord Carrington, stopped dead in his tracks, fully expecting Darleston to call Ffolliot out.
Darleston, however, managed to hold his temper in check. His eyes blazed, but he leaned back in his chair and asked softly, ‘Do you not, indeed, Mr Ffolliot? And what would you like to do about it? We can of course break the dice. But then of course you will owe me a new set.’ Almost as an afterthought he added, ‘And…er…satisfaction as well. Your choice, Mr Ffolliot! Or perhaps you have a set of dice we can use, and break at the end of the game, of course!’
Ffolliot’s eyes fell. ‘I…don’t have a set with me…I…I must have been mistaken!’ he stammered.
‘Then shall we continue?’ asked Darleston sweetly. The other occupants of the room lost interest, but George Carstares, watching closely with Lord Carrington, breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had nofears for Darleston’s safety in a duel with Ffolliot, however, the law was strict about these little affairs.
‘Damn it, George,’ muttered Carrington. ‘Can’t this be stopped somehow? Ffolliot can’t afford to lose. He’s a blasted little squirt, I agree, but his sisters and stepmother have enough problems without Peter ruining him and calling him out!’
George shook his head. ‘He’d tell us to go to the devil! Already done that once this evening! At least he accepted the boy’s apology. No one can do anything with Peter in this mood!’
The game continued and Ffolliot’s losses mounted steadily. His face became sickly as his vowels grew in number. From time to time he made a little headway, but this was always short-lived. Darleston threw a ten, those mocking eyes daring his opponent to call a halt to the game. Ffolliot’s hand trembled so that his throw was clumsy and the dice fell to the floor. He bent to retrieve them, fumbling a little. Slightly flushed, he straightened up. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord
‘Perhaps not,’ was the unconcerned reply. ‘However, the game does begin to lose savour. Might I be excused, gentlemen?’ Frobisher rose to his feet, bowed gracefully and departed with his winnings.
As the game continued between the three remaining players Lady Luck chose to turn her face to Mr Ffolliot. Emboldened by this, and the amount of champagne he had consumed, he recklessly raised the stakes.
‘Double each throw, gentlemen?’ he challenged.
Darleston nodded imperturbably, but Manders said bluntly, ‘Too high, Ffolliot. Don’t be a fool! Luck won’t stay with you all night. Especially if you can’t afford it! I’m out!’ He rose to his feet. ‘Excuse me, Darleston, I’ll see you later.’
Darleston smiled up at him, saying amiably, ‘Thanks for the game, Manders. You must dine with me soon. I feel sure our tastes have much in common!’
He tossed back his glass of brandy, refilled it, and said to Mr Ffolliot, ‘Fifty a throw, wasn’t it?’ The game proceeded, but Lady Luck, possibly affronted by Mr Ffolliot’s behaviour, began to favour Darleston. That pile of guineas slowly made its way across the table. Finally they were all in front of Darleston.
‘Do you wish to continue, Mr Ffolliot?’ he asked politely.
‘Yes! Damn you! Double the stakes!’ slurred Ffolliot. The luck had to change! He glared at his opponent defiantly.
Darleston looked at him carefully. It was not in his nature to refuse a challenge, but it went against the grain to win money from a drunken youth who most certainly could not afford it. Wryly he admitted to himself that he had certainly provoked Ffolliot earlier. His code of honour dictated that it was time to call a halt.
The words were on the tip of his tongue when Ffolliot said loudly, ‘I don’t like your dice, Darleston!’ A dead silence came over the room. People turned to stare in disbelief. To accuse Darleston of cheating was unthinkable! His courage, honour and pride were a matter of public record. George Carstares, who had just come back into the room with Lord Carrington, stopped dead in his tracks, fully expecting Darleston to call Ffolliot out.
Darleston, however, managed to hold his temper in check. His eyes blazed, but he leaned back in his chair and asked softly, ‘Do you not, indeed, Mr Ffolliot? And what would you like to do about it? We can of course break the dice. But then of course you will owe me a new set.’ Almost as an afterthought he added, ‘And…er…satisfaction as well. Your choice, Mr Ffolliot! Or perhaps you have a set of dice we can use, and break at the end of the game, of course!’
Ffolliot’s eyes fell. ‘I…don’t have a set with me…I…I must have been mistaken!’ he stammered.
‘Then shall we continue?’ asked Darleston sweetly. The other occupants of the room lost interest, but George Carstares, watching closely with Lord Carrington, breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had nofears for Darleston’s safety in a duel with Ffolliot, however, the law was strict about these little affairs.
‘Damn it, George,’ muttered Carrington. ‘Can’t this be stopped somehow? Ffolliot can’t afford to lose. He’s a blasted little squirt, I agree, but his sisters and stepmother have enough problems without Peter ruining him and calling him out!’
George shook his head. ‘He’d tell us to go to the devil! Already done that once this evening! At least he accepted the boy’s apology. No one can do anything with Peter in this mood!’
The game continued and Ffolliot’s losses mounted steadily. His face became sickly as his vowels grew in number. From time to time he made a little headway, but this was always short-lived. Darleston threw a ten, those mocking eyes daring his opponent to call a halt to the game. Ffolliot’s hand trembled so that his throw was clumsy and the dice fell to the floor. He bent to retrieve them, fumbling a little. Slightly flushed, he straightened up. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord
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