Jack of Clubs (5 page)

“None.”

“Then perhaps another of her schoolmates would invite Harriet to spend some time with her family?”

“Harriet had no friends at school. That is, no particular friends.” Before he could ask about that, Allie hurried to say, “Mr. Burquist, the Hildebrands' man of affairs, suggested your family might take in Harriet.”

“Yes, Nell would take in any number of foundlings. She even kept a pet goose because she could not see it eaten. That is not the point. Nell and my brother are not in London. The family town house is being renovated so I cannot even send you there with the servants.”

“We could go to…Northampshire, did you say?”

“Yes, but Nell is increasing and having a difficult pregnancy. Not as difficult as my brother is having, I understand. I cannot send them company at a time like that.”

Allie could understand. “Of course not. Harriet would be underfoot.”

“And they wouldn't want me,” Harriet added from the corner where she was pouring out the contents of Jack's decanter for the dog to lap off the floor. “Not with babies of their own. I don't like babies anyway. I like your dog, though.”

“He's a good old—What the deuce are you doing, feeding him my most expensive brandy?”

Miss Silver quickly asked, “Why could we not stay here? It is not what I might wish, being a bachelor's residence, but you will find another school for Harriet in short order and I shall find a new position. Your home seems ample for a single gentleman.”

“Stay here? A child? For a night or two, perhaps, but I had a hard enough time getting the proper licenses as is.”

“Licenses?”

“You know, to run a dice table and a roulette wheel. I had to grease a hundred palms before I could open. The magistrates would close the place down in a flash if they saw Harriet here. They frown on children in gaming parlors.”

“Roulette?”

“Yes, a game with a wheel and a tiny ball that men with tiny brains watch endlessly. They are paying my bills.”

Her voice was growing fainter. “This is a…gaming house? Not your home?”

“Well, it is that, too. I saw no reason to take separate rooms when there was space here. And now I do not have to leave near dawn to find my own bed when the club finally shuts its doors.”

“A club?”

“Well, it is technically an exclusive gentlemen's club, with membership by subscription, but in actuality anyone with the fee can join.” Jack proudly added, “We already have a great number of members. The Red and the Black will be a great success.”

She barely whispered, “The doors?”

“I thought that was a clever touch. So you see why we have to find somewhere else for Harriet to stay permanently. I would rent a little cottage for you, but I am below hatches at this moment. I sank everything I had into the club and I am not seeing any profit yet. Tonight is our first big event. I invited General We—Where are you going?”

Miss Silver was on her feet again. Good manners dictated Jack also stand.

“Anywhere. I cannot stay here. Surely you can see that.”

“I can see that you cannot desert me like a rat leaving a sinking ship. How the deuce am I to care for the chit tonight? What do I know about putting her to bed? For that matter, I have to be down in the club all night. I cannot babysit a—Deuce take it, that is my new coat from Weston she is dressing the dog in! You cannot leave!”

“I must! I have to think of my reputation, my references. I will never find another position if I spend a night under the roof of a gambling den.”

“Of course you will. Nell can write you new references. She's a regular Trojan. Who knows, she might have a girl this time and need the services of a governess.”

“In five years! For now she is in childbed, and I have to make my own bed. Good grief, not with your fancy pieces. Now I understand about all the women. This place is no better than a brothel!”

“Now hold, Miss Silver. The girls—the young ladies—are dealers, nothing else. Gentlemen like to look at pretty women when they are out on the town. The ladies deal and serve drinks. I am not running a bordello.”

“What of Miss Poitier? Or should I say Mademoiselle? I should not even be speaking of women such as she!”

“Rochelle does not live here. She has rooms of her own. I don't suppose…” At the schoolmarm's gasp he said, “No, I thought not.”

“You considered that I would stay in the same house as your mistress?”

Now Miss Silver's husky voice was loud enough to be heard in Hampshire! “Sh. Remember the child.”

The child had tired of dressing the dog and was looking at some of the picture books on Jack's shelves. Pictures of—“Thunderation, put that book back!”

Harriet looked up at him. “You don't have to marry your ladybird, if you don't want. I don't mind not having a mother, you know.”

Jack turned to Miss Silver. “Good grief, you cannot leave me with her!”

“I cannot stay.”

Jack was ready to pull his hair out, or pull his pistol out to threaten her into staying. No, he had locked the guns away. Oh, lord, what was he going to do? Beg, he supposed. First he asked, “Where will you go?”

“A hotel, I suppose.”

“A single woman with no companion? They will slam the door in your face.”

“That would not be the first time today. An inn will do, then.”

“A single woman without protection? You would not be safe. No, you absolutely have to stay here for the night. I insist.”

“But you have no right to insist about anything. I do not work for you.”

“I hereby hire you.”

“Impossible.”

“I'll hold my breath if you go,” Harriet warned.

Now why had Jack not thought of that?

Miss Silver ignored the child, pulling on her cloak after brushing dog hairs off it.

“Great gods, she is turning purple. Do something!”

“Why? She will faint before she dies. You will have to get used to such manipulations. Tears will be next, I believe.”

Jack already had a mistress to enact him scenes. He did not need an eight-year-old with a flair for the dramatic. “I am begging you, Miss Silver, please do not leave. Give me one night. That's all I ask, one night. Tomorrow we will come up with a plan, I know we will. Something respectable, above board, that even the highest sticklers cannot find fault with. There is always that inn where they stashed Nell's brother. No, he is insane, you cannot stay there.” Jack realized he was babbling. Harriet had his quizzing glass from his coat pocket and was—“Not the French playing cards!” He snatched the cards and the magnifying glass away from Harriet and looked at Miss Silver beseechingly. “Please.”

Allie looked out the window. All daylight was gone and the street lamps had not been lit. Outside was dark and empty and cold and lonely. She'd be lost in a minute if she could not find a hackney to take her—where? Inside, she could hear the man Calloway clumping down the hall, the smell of hot chocolate preceding him.

Then she sneezed.

Chapter Five

“Aha!” the captain shouted. “You are not well. That does it. You cannot go out in the rainy night, heaven knows where, with no escort. I cannot take you myself, not with the club about to open for the evening, and I cannot spare Calloway or Downs. I swear you will be safe here. No gentlemen but I are permitted in the private rooms upstairs. The girls—the ladies—will be below, serving, so the place will be quiet and restful, and they sleep on the attic floor above anyway.”

He tried to adjust his neckcloth, to give weight to the propriety of his offer. A disheveled gentleman did not bode well for discretion, he realized. “In fact, I can have Calloway bring your dinner tray there, yours and Miss Harriet's, right now, before anyone is about. That way no one will see you at all. The guests never need to know of your existence, and the girls—the ladies—will not, either. There will be no talk, and no encounters that might embarrass you, I swear. You can have the best bedroom and…and a bath.” He knew he was grasping at straws and did not care. “I'll carry the hot water myself. No, I won't come anywhere near your rooms. I'll send a maid, one of my soldier's widows who is close-mouthed and sensible. Please stay?”

A sweet little voice chimed in his ear: “Offer her double her wages.”

Jack smiled at Harriet. Perhaps the urchin was not so bad, after all. “I will double what Miss Semple paid you for accompanying Harriet, if you stay the night.”

Allie was torn. The extra money would be a blessing, but this was a gambling parlor, and worse. “What of Miss Poitier?”

“What, I should pay her double—No, of course not. She will not be back, I promise. I'll give her her congé tonight. She will never cross your path again.”

“What's a con jay?” Harriet asked. “Is it anything like a woodland jay, and is that where she got the green feather?”

Allie ignored her, but the captain said, “I'll triple your fee.”

“One night, other accommodations in the morning?”

He nodded.

“Very well.” Allie turned to Harriet, pretending not to hear Captain Endicott's sigh of relief. “We are staying after all, both of us. So I win the bet. You owe me twenty thousand pounds.”

The gentleman was about to raise his glass in a toast to their agreement, and his salvation. At her words, though, he said, “Aha!” again. “So you are a gambling woman after all, Miss Silver, despite your righteous indignation.”

“No, it's just a game.”

“For twenty thousand pounds? That's one hell of a game for someone who disapproves of wagering so much she'd rather sleep with the fleas at an inn than on clean sheets here.”

“You should not say ‘hell' in front of a child.”

“Or in front of a lady. My apologies. You see how much I have to learn about being a proper guardian? I need you, Miss Silver.” The smile he flashed her would have melted an iceberg, much less one old maid's resolve.

“It is pretend money anyway, silly,” Harriet interrupted, lifting the captain's fob watch out of his coat by its chain.

He took back his prized timepiece, a present from his father. “Oh, then you are not an heiress? Too bad, I was counting on your fortune to pay my tailor's bills,” he teased. “Perhaps I should send you to an inn after all, if you are going to be such an expensive proposition. Overpaid governesses, extra meals, more coal for your fireplaces. I suppose you are going to want new shoes eventually too.”

Harriet looked at her scuffed and thin-soled slippers. “If you send us away will you give us a con jay too? I'd rather have your dog.”

“The dog stays. So do you.” He opened the door for Calloway, but told the older man, “Take the tray upstairs to the guest suite. The ladies are staying.”

“Here?” The dishes rattled.

“No, at Kensington Palace. Miss Harriet Hildebrand appears to be my ward, at least until I speak with some solicitor on Monday morning. And Miss Silver is my own silver lining. Unless you would like to help Miss Harriet brush her hair and her teeth and say her prayers and who knows what else?”

Harriet knew. “Read a story. Or you could tell me one. I like pirates and highwaymen and Red Indians.”

Calloway was bowing to Allie as best he could with a tray in his hands. “This way, ma'am.”

As Captain Endicott had predicted, they saw no one on the trek up the stairs and down the carpeted halls. Calloway opened the door to a sitting room and adjoining bedchamber that were freshly painted and tastefully decorated, with no red satin sheets or mirrors above the bed, thank goodness. The bed was large enough for half the girls at Miss Semple's School, so Allie would not be kept awake by Harriet's tossing and turning again. The sitting room would get the morning sun, but the bedroom faced the rear of the house, so she would not even be bothered by carriages arriving and leaving. She could even pretend she was in a gentleman's residence, instead of a gambling den, if she tried hard enough.

The food was excellent, and far more elaborate than Allie expected for a hastily gathered snack. Of course the chef had thought he was feeding the owner of the establishment too, obviously a hearty eater. There was enough for three or four or ten, with enough variety that Harriet found something she favored, once she had scraped the sauce off the veal and the breading off the chicken. The tea was hot and heavenly to Allie's sore throat and aching head, and Harriet declared her chocolate sweetened perfectly. She ate two servings of pudding, prattling on about her new guardian, his house, his dog, his library that was far more interesting and informative than the one at Mrs. Semple's School.

“What do you think I should call him?” she asked Allie between bites. “He's not really my papa, and not even an uncle.”

Allie put down her fork. “I think Captain Endicott is fine for now, since everyone still seems to be calling him by his army rank. And say ‘sir.' Do not forget to show him respect, for he is being very kind.”

“Cap'n Jack sounds better.”

“It sounds overly familiar. As you say, you are not related. I do not want you to be disappointed, Harriet, but you must remember that we might not be staying. I am not, and I doubt if the captain will keep you here on his own.” When the child's lower lip started quivering, Allie went on: “He is not really fixed to be a father, you know. And his way of life is truly not suitable for a child. Why, he stays up all night and likely sleeps during the day, not wanting any noise or playing in the house. He knows nothing of raising a little girl, and his, ah, associates are not proper company for Viscount Hildebrand's granddaughter. We were a shock to him, you saw that, so do not get your hopes pinned on the captain. But I am certain he will find you a loving family and a real house, perhaps in the country where you can play outdoors and learn to ride.”

A tear fell down Harriet's sticky cheek.

“And a dog of your own,” Allie promised, perjuring those poor people who would have Harriet left on their doorstep within the week, if Allie guessed the captain's intentions correctly.

“But I like it here!”

“You will like it there, too, wherever there is.”

Harriet wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. If Allie's appetite had not left before, it did now. She handed over her last clean handkerchief. “He would not send you somewhere hateful.”

“But I like Cap'n Jack!” Harriet wailed, throwing herself into Allie's arms, not playacting for effect, but truly upset.

“Yes, I like him too.”

That was the trouble. The man was wondrously handsome in a rugged way, broad shouldered and fit. Allie could not help noticing all that while he was in his shirt sleeves, which he should not have been, of course, in the presence of a lady. His stomach was flat, his thighs were well-muscled like the cavalry officer he had been, and his face was still tanned from being outdoors. He had a lopsided smile to match his crooked nose, and his neckcloth had been awry too, to match his skewed morals. He was in dishabille because he had been in debauchery—in the daylight!

Allie patted Harriet's back, knowing the child was tired, overwrought, and halfway smitten with the man who had let her take the dog upstairs into the bedroom. Joker was a large, lazy, smelly dog, Allie could not help noticing, who was eating everything on the tray that Harriet had not.

“Do not let the dog have chicken bones,” she told Harriet now, distracting her. “He might choke, and then the captain will be angry.”

Harriet jumped down and offered Joker Allie's last biscuit, instead. At least she was not crying any more.

Allie wished she did not feel like weeping herself.

Harriet's guardian was polite when he remembered to be, and kind. He had accepted his responsibility for Harriet on the instant he recognized her as his friend's daughter, and was intending, Allie knew in her heart, to do the best for the orphaned child. He was courteous to Allie, a mere school teacher, and he was generous.

Her first hopes had been correct: Captain Endicott was a fine gentleman. But he was a gambler and a womanizer too. Heaven help her, Allie no more belonged in his house than she belonged on a barge. Why, she should not even know such a person! Mrs. Semple would have cat fits if such a man came within a mile of her school or her senior girls. Then again, if the captain smiled at her, crinkling his eyes the way he did, inviting her to share his jokes, Mrs. Semple would titter and bat her eyelashes at him.

Allie was not in danger of tittering or batting. She was in danger of destroying her reputation, without one ounce of enjoyment to show for it. Not that she would find pleasure in flirting with a libertine or listening to his silver tongue. Of course not.

Her good name was about all she had. With no connections, no property, no income and no dowry, Allie had to make her own way in the world. She well knew that a woman with a poor reputation had equally poor prospects. She had found her niche at Mrs. Semple's School, enjoying using her mind, imparting her knowledge to others, finding friends among the staff, satisfaction in her work. Now she was chancing it all, the independence and the future.

She should have insisted on leaving. The captain would have found her a hackney, and might have given her the directions of decent lodgings, plus her wages. Allie had been afraid, though, and was angry at herself for her cowardice. London was vast and dirty and dangerous, and Allie had never truly been on her own before. She had gone from Papa's house to Mrs. Semple's School. She found terror in being without funds, without a position, without a plan. Her dreads multiplied in the dark, like lice.

Allie supposed a hero like Captain Endicott would laugh at her lack of backbone and bravery. He had thrown off his family expectations and gone into trade, and not an acceptable business like banking or shipping, either. Allie half admired the captain for that, although she could not respect his choices. He was a self-made man, though, like Papa, who had started his own successful school.

She missed her father still, and could understand Harriet's clinging to the first likely replacement for her own. But Harriet was a child. Allie was not.

She should have gone, before she tasted the luxury here. She might miss her father and the security she had known at the school, but she did not miss the narrow room at Mrs. Semple's she shared with the next junior instructor, Miss Wolfe, who snored. Now she had well-cooked, ample food, the hearths burning warmly, and someone to serve her. No one had looked after Allie, her clothes or her person, since she was Harriet's age, and her mother had been alive.

When they were finished eating, a maid of middle years came in. She curtsied politely, said her name was Mary Crandall, and instantly led Harriet to the bedroom to help unpack their few belongings. She took their dirty clothes to be laundered, their shoes to be polished, and said a bath was being brought up, as soon as miss was ready.

Allie had never known such luxury, not even at Papa's house. Here the soaps were scented, the towels were heated, the water had not been used by anyone else first. As she scrubbed her hair, determined to stay in the copper tub until her toes turned white and shriveled, Allie thought that such opulence was far more seductive than any raffish, lop-sided smile.

Who was she fooling?

The captain was the hero of every female's fantasies, and he made Allie feel emotions she never knew she had, or had forgotten. She was five and twenty, no dewy miss to be infatuated with a handsome face and a virile form, and yet she was thinking of him while in her bath, naked, washing herself. Goodness, he no more belonged in her waking dreams than he belonged in her bed!

And she had accepted his money. Heavens, he might think she was open to other suggestions. She should have left.

He had been right, though, to convince her to stay. She had been feeling light-headed and hungry, and she needed the extra coins. It was dark, Harriet would have been all alone…and Allie had been afraid. Besides, no one needed to know where she was. Tomorrow she could try the placement agencies if the captain did not find a separate residence for them. No, that would never do, either. If he set up an establishment in London, people would assume the worst. They would decide Allie was under the protection of a rakish bachelor, which would be nothing less than the truth, albeit the innocent truth. They would assume she was his next Rochelle. Perhaps she should change her name to Allyne d'Argent? Allie stifled a nervous giggle, making sure the maid was busy with Harriet in the other room.

She'd had too much wine. Calloway had said it would help her stuffed head. Instead the wine, along with the warmth of the bath, was helping her think licentious thoughts. Allie stepped out of the tub and dried herself briskly, shaking off unwanted images with the bath water. She reminded herself that when Captain Endicott sent Harriet off to school, the governess would be left homeless and jobless again, but this time with the references of the owner of The Red and the Black, a gambling casino, not a polite academy for girls. The thought of applying for a position with a rake's recommendation in hand left her colder than the night air, before she lowered a clean flannel night gown over her head. Mary had produced it from somewhere, thank heavens, for Allie's own still smelled of smoke from the fire at Mrs. Semple's.