Spinster's Gambit (7 page)

“Good game,” Jack said at the end, smiling across the board at his partner, Mr. André Philidor, apparently entirely unaffected by the brutal defeat. 

“To you as well,” Philidor said sincerely, shaking his head and slowly standing up from the shared table. “Tell me the drinks are out?” he asked and Aspen gestured him toward the liquor cabinet. 

The last games would start in an hour but first the last few players would take a break and the losers would drink themselves foolish. Jack got up from the board and hesitated before grabbing the bottle of brandy to pour himself another glass. He gestured toward the empty glass in Aspen’s hand.

“Shall we drink away our sorrows?” he suggested, lifting the brandy bottle.

“I believe I failed in excellent fashion,” Aspen agreed cheerfully, lowering his glass to the table.

“It is a blessing, isn’t it? To lose with great theatricism,” Mr. Holcombe joked, filling it.

“You did well,” Aspen replied, taking his drink. Jack lifted his glass in quiet thanks. 

“It’s awkward, winning against you in your own home,” he commented, taking a hearty sip of the brandy. 

“Would you like to do it again?” Aspen asked, gesturing toward the connecting billiards room. A group of men were filing out of the room together toward a developing game of whist. Jack glanced through the doorway and bit his lip in a strangely feminine affectation at the sight of the billiards table inside. 

“I don't know how to play, Your Grace,” the man confessed finally. Aspen felt his brow rise sharply. He smothered the reaction as quickly as he could, but Mr. Holcombe only looked more embarrassed. The man had to be from a working family; how else would he have grown up in Abingdon and not have learned how to fence or play billiards? Given, he had confessed to filling his day with chess, but no English gentleman could have grown up so ill-educated. 

He is an odd man,
Aspen reminded himself as he heard the man apologize, ready to turn away. 

“Call me Aspen, please, and I will teach you,” Aspen offered. Jack blinked at him, looking confused for a moment before his face cleared and he nodded. Aspen led the way into the room and grabbed a cue stick. He turned to ensure that Mr. Holcombe had, in fact, followed him, and held out his cue. Jack moved to take it and Aspen pulled the stick away. “On the condition that you teach me the opening you employed against me.”

Jack's face lit up, his smile stretching into a grin. 

“The Queen’s Gambit,” he confirmed and Aspen nodded, pleased. He handed the man the cue and moved to take his own. 

“Aspen,” he ordered and Jack grinned broader. He was not accustomed to having friends, Aspen thought.

“Very well. Aspen, how does one play billiards?” he asked, leaning on his cue stick.

“The object is to hit your cueball into both my cueball and that red ball in a single stroke. That’s called a count. Whoever gets to twenty counts first wins,” Aspen instructed, putting the three balls into the middle of the table. 

Why is it so much easier to make friends amongst men?
he wondered, cursing himself. By rights he should be at Countess Chesterton's post-matinee ball, meeting debutantes and finding himself a wife. He could meet Miss Musgrave again, see if they could put up with each other. He was thirty five. It was time to marry. And yet the thought of dancing with another girl barely out of the school room and laying side bets with Daniel on where the ladies would focus their eyes to pretend he was not covered in massive scar damage made him want to grit his teeth and never leave his home again. No, he'd much rather exchange chess and billiards lessons and keep his pride intact. 

“Will you attend the Plainsworth ball this Saturday?” he asked, lining up his next shot. He got the count but his cue ball had too much spin and rolled beyond his goal. “Oh, well, shite,” he cursed, glancing about the table to see how to redeem himself and finding nothing. He looked up to see Jack staring at him, his mouth agape. Aspen blinked rapidly and chuckled, lifting his cue for his next shot. “My word man, did you grow up entirely in the countryside?” he asked. Jack started blinking rapidly, as if trying to force his brain into processing the world again. Aspen turned back to his game, deciding to simply ensure his cueball stayed away from the corner. 

“I know the word, but I did not know gentleman spoke so,” Jack said finally. Aspen grinned again and took his shot before gesturing to Jack to begin his turn. 

“Well not around the ladies, certainly,” he replied honestly, stepping out of the man’s way and leaning against the wall. “But in private? I know dandies that curse like sailors.” 

Jack took his shot and missed it entirely.

“Try it again,” Aspen instructed. Jack blinked at him and Aspen shrugged. It was hardly like he needed to prove his superiority in the game. Jack grabbed the cue ball and moved it back into position. 

“I had not realized how cloistered I’d been,” Jack admitted, before concentrating on his shot. Aspen watched Jack’s eyes dart about the table as he lined up his cue and stayed silent to let the man focus. Jack got his count, albeit barely, but missed his next.

“Nicely done,” Aspen said, straightening. 

“What else do gentleman do when ladies aren’t nearby?” Jack asked. Aspen snorted.

“Surely you are not
that
cloistered, man,” Aspen replied, shooting him a loaded glance. Jack tipped his head in a curious gesture. Aspen moved across the room to grab his drink from the sideboard and happily gulped some down.

“Do you mean visiting women of ill repute?” Jack asked and Aspen choked on his drink. He came up sputtering. 

Who actually calls them that? Women and clergymen.
Jack looked baffled by his reaction and Aspen chuckled.

“That is what I meant, yes. But surely our normal pursuits are no great secret, not on the level of coffeehouses, cheroots, and the like,” he replied, grabbing a towel from the sideboard to wipe down his face. Jack looked embarrassed. Aspen wiped down the floor and chucked the towel back on the sideboard. He balanced his drink on the billiards table and took up his cue stick, returning to their game. 

“Can we do those things?” Jac requested suddenly. Aspen missed his shot and stood up again.

“How -” he started, before shaking his head. Asking Jack questions about his background was only confusing him further. The man was an enigma. “You’ve truly never smoked?” he asked instead. Jack shook his head. 

“I’m a country man,” he said and Aspen snorted. 

“Who has never smoked?” he asked doubtfully. Jack looked embarrassed again. 

“I’ve smoked,” he said, but it sounded like a lie. Aspen wanted to laugh but the awkward man looked too uncomfortable. 

“We’ll go to Smyrna,” he said instead. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed and Aspen cursed himself. He was acting like an overstuffed fool, referring to specific London sights to a foreigner and expecting him to understand. Jack tilted his head curiously, his eyes still focused above Aspen’s shoulder. 

“A coffeehouse, too well known for its own good, but its drink and snuff is good all the same,” Aspen explained, hoping the man would agree to join him. Jack smiled shyly at him and Aspen nodded, reminded again how little of modern life Jack had witnessed. “Excellent. It’s your turn,” he said, gesturing toward the board. Jack returned to the game, his whole demeanor brighter. Lord, but it was easier to make friends amongst men. 

All the same, Aspen confessed to himself when a footman announced the evening meal and ended the teaching session, he was grateful to have something else to stomp the man at, after such an embarrassing display at chess. Especially as it was tradition for the Association to proceed into dinner and sit in the order of chess performance, rather than rank, which had him very firmly at the middle of his own table, placed too far from Jack's position to even hear his conversation.

~~//~~

Daniel had left her the carriage, refusing to let her take a hired coach home. Personally, Jac didn't know how the servants were going to explain her arriving at the house so very unaccompanied but there was nothing to do about it. The servants would think what they would.

Jacoline sighed and let her head fall back against the carriage wall. She'd been beyond happy that night. She was starting to wonder how she'd ever go back to a life of embroidery and soirees. Thinking about it made a gulf open up somewhere below her stomach. How was she supposed to put on a gown in two weeks and meet Aspen at the Plainsworth Ball and remember what she'd said to His Grace when she was dressed as a man and what she'd said dressed in a gown?

It helped that she'd barely said anything to him as a woman at all, she figured, her mouth twisting. She’d barely exchanged two words with the quiet man when playing the role of Miss Jacoline Holcombe, the polite and boring spinster. Their growing association would die with the farce she was playing at.

Jac closed her eyes and brushed her hands down her skirt, wishing desperately that she could live both lives at once, as a woman who could beat a room at chess and then turn around and dance and be married. Instead, it seemed she could do neither.

~~//~~

My life has officially gotten out of control,
Daniel thought, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of his carriage window while he waited. Harold would not open the door until the street was clear. Daniel fiddled with his glove, trying to pass the time. He was a fool to be helping Jacoline, he knew, but she’d never had an adventure. She needed this time to see the world before she resigned herself to spending the rest of her life trapped in their childhood home. But it needed to end soon. 

He heard footsteps outside the coach and moved to stand. Harold opened the carriage door, his face characteristically blank. 

“Good evening,” Daniel said, stepping down from the coach and hurrying onto the front steps of the red brick house on the corner. He rushed inside, keeping his coat collar propped up around his face until he’d gotten out of the street. Henry stood just inside the doorway and moved to close the door behind him. 

“Welcome home, my dear,” Henry greeted him warmly. Daniel smiled, relaxing finally as he unbuttoned his overcoat. 

“How is Laura today?” he asked, dropping his hat onto the dresser by the door. Henry kissed him and took his coat. 

“Still sulking. Her piano cannot be repaired before next week,” Henry answered, leading him further into the house.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jac was ready to send up a prayer of thanks for her survival by the time the Duke of Aspen finally declared them finished in their footwork practice. She let herself slump down to the floor against the wall in a way she hadn't since she was eleven and away from any governess. Aspen joined her, thankfully out of breath as well. Jac pulled her eyes away from his scarred face and found her attention settling on his sweat-soaked shirt. She could see the outline of muscles beneath the thin fabric and a hint of chest hair growing out of his shirt collar. She darted her gaze away again, only to end up at the muscles in his arms. She finally focused on his feet, cursing herself as the silliest woman in the world.

“Well done today,” he panted out, sliding down the wall to sit beside her and stretch. Jac nodded tiredly and followed suit.

“Thank you.”

Silence settled between them comfortably and Jacoline rested her head back on the plaster wall behind her, grateful for its support. It felt good, just sitting with him. He was an interesting man when he stopped scowling.

When away from women,
Jac concluded.

“What is it like to be a duke?” she asked, turning her head along the wall to face him as much as possible. Aspen glanced at her and Jac noticed belatedly that she was on his wrong side, where his face was hard and unyielding and wouldn't allow him to see as well. Still, it seemed he managed well enough for he did not turn to use his undamaged eye. He sighed and rubbed a thumb into his bad hand. 

“Mostly it is a great blessing. I am well situated with multiple, well-staffed estates, comfortable clothing, and good riding mounts. I come from a good family and I can provide the same things to them and to children of my own,” he glanced at her ruefully. “Assuming I have any. That possibility, to be frank, is only made possible by my being a duke so that should also be considered a benefit.”

Jac cocked her head.

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she thought she could guess. Aspen flashed her a knowing glance. 

“It is no secret that I have little to offer beyond my circumstance,” he said, holding up his damaged hand and manipulated it a bit in the air to show how the skin twisted and bubbled. 

I'd marry you anyway. 

Jac blinked at the thought, reconsidering it. If he had no funds to offer her, if they had to rely on Daniel or go poverty stricken?

I already have to rely on Daniel,
she thought, glancing over the man's damaged face, his sweat-soaked shirt, his hands. He laughed at her jokes, argued with her politics. He was smart, and in this, at least, so self-conscious.

Oh...hell,
she thought, closing her eyes. She could not fall for the Duke of Aspen. The very notion was absurd. She barely knew the man. She would be quite content as a spinster; she’d have her finances and her life under her own power. She did not need a husband, and most certainly not one she did not know. 

He may have syphilis,
she reminded herself, cutting off her romantic thoughts and remembering the old rumors. She’d get ill, probably die, if she were to have children with him. 

I cannot have children as a spinster, either.
The thought came hard and Jac let her head fall back against the wall, trying not to wallow in it. It was a foolish consideration regardless. The duke’s wounds had faded into scars, clearly not the work of the French pox, and either way the man did not want her. He barely knew her as more than an impolite spinster, when he knew her as a woman at all. 

Aspen growled suddenly and slammed his head against the wall.