He stroked his chin, regarding her. "The honor of your company at a private dinner against… against… now, what could I offer you?" he mused.

Your head on a platter, Judith thought viciously. She had every intention of losing to him but no intention whatsoever of joining him in a tete-a-tete dinner. However, that bridge would have to be crossed when she reached it. "The chance to drive your blacks in Richmond Park," she suggested in dulcet accents. "I've envied you those horses since I first saw them."

"Then let us play, ma'am." He moved to the card table.

Judith had only one purpose behind the game: She wanted to know how he played, what habits he had, what techniques he favored. Then she and Sebastian would compare notes. As Gracemere had destroyed George Devereux playing piquet, so would Gracemere meet his own Waterloo at the hands of George's children.

She took her seat at the table with a fidgety eagerness, watching as he broke the pack. She didn't think he would bother to cheat with her; she'd been careful never to play at his table before, so he wouldn't know how well she played. He would probably assume she was a moderate player at best.

She gave him a middling performance, losing the first hand by a respectably small margin, winning the second by the appearance of a lucky retention, losing the third convincingly, but avoiding the Rubicon.

"You're certainly an accomplished player, Bernard," she said, smiling as he counted the points. "Perhaps one day you'd teach me some of your strategies." What a delicious thought that was… She knew now she was a fair match for Bernard Melville, in honest play or crooked. She continued to smile, savoring the thought.

Bernard chuckled. "With pleasure, my dear. But first, I claim my winnings."

"But of course. However…" She glanced around the room. "We've already dined tonight, and this is hardly a private spot."

He chuckled again. "No, you must allow me to make the necessary arrangements, Judith. I'll inform you of the date, place, and time."

"I think, sir, that you must allow me to pick the date," she said carefully. "I'm not a free woman."

"No." Reaching for her hand, he carried it to his lips. "You are not. But are you a virtuous woman?" He smiled over her hand. "An improper question, forgive me, ma'am… However, I firmly believe that you will find a tale to satisfy Carrington, when the need arises."

She would shoot him-no, that was too quick… a long and lingering death … "I daresay I could." She stood up. "But now I must return to the ballroom before anyone notices such a protracted absence."

Gracemere bowed and remained standing by the table, watching as she wafted back to the ballroom. Whatever tale she invented to put Carrington off the scent, the marquis would be apprised of his wife's intimate, clandestine rendezvous with his old enemy. The prospect of such a wonderfully apposite revenge was a heady one. But now, having played the sister, he would play her brother for rather more material stakes.

He made his way to the card room, where the serious play was taking place. Sebastian sat at the macao table and waved cheerfully at him. "Come and take a hand, Gracemere."

"Thank you." He sat down opposite Sebastian. "I just had a hand or two of piquet with your sister."

"Oh, did you win? Ju's not much of a player," Sebastian said, grinning, laying out his rouleaux.

"Calumny!" Judith's voice came from the doorway.

"But did you win?" her brother challenged, frowning over his cards before making his bet.

"No," she admitted, moving to stand behind the earl. "His lordship was more than my match, I fear."

Gracemere looked up. "The cards fell in my favor," he demurred. "I trust you're going to bring me luck now, Lady Carrington."

"Oh, I trust so," she murmured, smiling around the table. She had absorbed Gracemere's hand in a glance that barely skimmed his cards and now continued to look smilingly around the table, her fan moving lazily in front of her face.

Lord Sedgewick held the bank. His appreciative gaze rested on Lady Carrington. She was a devilishly attractive woman. Catching his eye, she smiled at him, and Sedgewick felt a distinct prickle of arousal. Marcus was a lucky dog, but then again such a woman would take a deal of handling. His lordship wondered slightly uneasily whether he himself would be up to such a task. He thought of his own wife, a matron of even temper with little interest in matters of the bedchamber beyond those necessary to ensure the succession. Lady Carrington, on the other hand, gave the distinct impression of one who might play rather nicely…

Sedgewick forced his attention back to the cards. It was unseemly to think in such fashion of another man's wife. But she was devilishly attractive… and that wicked smile, when just the corners of her mouth lifted…

Sebastian glanced up now and again from his cards, joining in the lively conversation around the table. Judith was not the only woman standing at the table, observing the play; she was, however, the only one employing her fan. But then it was such an ordinary activity, only Sebastian truly took note.

Gracemere lost three hundred guineas to the bank in half an hour. It didn't strike him as remarkable that whenever he thought he had a winning count, Davenport played one better, declaring his hand before the earl was ready to declare his. Sebastian wasn't always the winner at the table, but Gracemere was always the loser. He put it down to ill luck.

Judith drifted out of the card room. She and Sebastian had only been practicing. They hadn't practiced in public since Brussels and both needed to see how they would handle Gracemere. The final act was fast approaching.

"Judith?"

Harriet's soft voice broke pleasantly into her musings.

"Harriet, I didn't see you here before." She drew the girl's arm through hers. "Let's go and sit by the window, it's so hot in here. You arrived late. Sebastian's been looking for you."

"Lady Barret was detained. She couldn't come for me until after eleven," Harriet confided. "And Mama is indisposed." A delicate flush mantled her cheek. "I haven't seen your brother. I thought perhaps he'd already left."

Judith chuckled. "He wouldn't leave if he was expecting to see you. He's in the card room."

Harriet received this information in silence. Her eyes were downcast while her fingers played with the silk fringe on her reticule. Gently, Judith asked if something was troubling her.

Without looking up, Harriet said, "I-I sometimes think that… I sometimes think that your brother plays too much," she finished in a rush.

Judith nibbled her lip. Harriet was a great deal more observant than she'd given her credit for. "He enjoys gaming," she said neutrally. "But I can safely promise you, Harriet, that he will never jeopardize your happiness, and therefore his own, with reckless play."

Harriet sighed with relief and looked up at Judith, her expression radiant, the dear eyes sparkling. "You believe that, Judith? I was so afraid he was a true gamester."

"Oh, yes," Judith said, placing her hand over Harriet's. "Not only do I believe it, Harriet, I know it. That doesn't mean he's not a gamester," she added judiciously. "But if he's away from the tables, he'll not miss them."

"Secrets… do you exchange secrets?" Agnes Barret's falsely cheery voice sounded from behind them.

"Good evening, Lady Barret," Judith said, unable to disguise the chill in her voice. "No, I don't believe Harriet and I share any secrets."

"No, indeed not," Harriet agreed, blushing and transparently flustered.

Lady Barret's gaze rested on her for a minute, a slightly contemptuous smile on her lips, before she turned back to Judith, who met the now cool and calculating scrutiny with one of her own. The animosity between them seemed to crackle and even Harriet was aware of it, her eyes darting between the two women.