Here we go with another section. Enjoy....
Kevin Barry lounged comfortably near the roulette wheel, savoring his champagne. To be honest with himself - he was bored. Overindulgence was fine when he was young; but at thirty -two, this kind of entertainment had long since ceased to amuse.
Eyeing the clubs opulent surroundings with distaste, Kevin considered his options. This was supposed to be business. Young Lord Darley had indicated an interest in investing in one of Kevin's shipping lines. In fact, he might be of a mind to buy the whole damn thing, and Kevin was definitely of a mood to sell. Traipsing around the ocean was well and good while he needed the money, but had lost its luster of late.
So the fleet was for sale – every sail and spar of it - if Darley was interested in buying. Unfortunately, business these days was invariably done over some form of ‘gentlemanly pursuits’.
Kevin glanced upward at the thin, blue spirals of smoke dodging in and out of the rafters. Not all of it was due to the cigars most men held. A sweet, heavy smell accompanied the regular puffs of smoke that wafted down the wide central stairway.
Opium, for the most part gave Kevin a headache. Not that he was a prude, heaven forbid. It was just that he preferred his mind clear and his body ready for action. Lord Darley was, at present - one of those currently indulging in the hookah. After that, the man would pursue amusements Kevin found even less palatable.
It wasn’t the lifestyle choice that bothered him – rather Percy’s approach. The man lusted after anything in pants – Kevin included. It was the same with every other self-styled ‘fop’ these days. English style had recently given way to French style - cards, clothes and morality. It was as if the war served as an aphrodisiac. Everywhere he looked men and women were engaged in some sort of vice - gambling, drugs, orgies. Pleasure at any price.
Even the clubs unofficial ‘title’, De Sade’s, paid tribute to an imprisoned French libertine. An entire wing was devoted to the ‘joys’ of Apollo. There was even a secret section, with its own entrance, one block over. One needed a password to gain admission to that particular establishment. Nick–named ‘Justine’s’, it housed reprobates of the first water. Rumor had it the notorious Hellfire Club was once again active and met there in secret.
Swirling his glass, Kevin watched the bubbles fizz and break against the surface of the wine. He was disgusted. This so-called 'gaming house' was nothing more than a dressed up bordello. A paean to Palladian overindulgence. Overstuffed chairs and overstuffed women. Many ‘Ladies’ of distinction attended revels here, behaving for all the world like the whores that they were. Decorative eye masks supposedly maintained anonymity; but in truth, no one was fooled.
The more censorious members of the ton avoided the place as if it housed hogs. To be seen at either hell smacked of licentiousness - hence the attempts at disguise. Problem was, even those sofits to convention were not nearly enough. Especially considering the latest fashion in dress ran to transparent gauze – a fad most women steered clear of – thank the lord! Shocking; really. Kevin was singularly unimpressed with modern London values.
Stretching, Kevin shifted his lithe frame around in an attempt to take better advantage of the chairs plush upholstery.
He was decidedly uncomfortable. Percy still hadn’t returned, leaving Kevin alone to fend off the advances of any number of intoxicated women and men. He really hadn’t anticipated the turn the evening had taken. Business was supposed to be tonight’s fare. Gadding about London from club to club getting stoked on gin and opium wasn’t on the agenda. Not to mention being inappropriately dressed for the occasion. His lawn shirt and worn chamois pants were more suited to visiting dockside pubs and chatting over a beer.
Kevin’s preference ran to severe black – no gaudy frills or expensive materials. Comfort, as opposed to show. He would, when necessary, don brighter colors - but black suited him best.
"Black hair, black eyes, black heart," or so his enemies said. Since Kevin was a wealthy man, enemies he had, though few still bothered to try and thwart him.
‘God’! Kevin sighed, bored out of his skull. He was now quite alone. No one had even approached him for at least a quarter of an hour. Which was a bit odd, actually; considering there had been a steady stream since he walked in the door.
Kevin looked around. There – over by the twenty-one tables. What in hell could pique an interest in this jaded crowd? Might be worth investigating.
"Anything's better than sitting around waiting for Percival to get himself buggered"; Kevin muttered.
Retrieving his wine from the table, Kevin wound his way past various groups of people until he stood on the outside of what was fast becoming a small crowd. It didn’t take long to spot the attraction.
A woman, by god - and quite simply, the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Kevin had ever seen.
Thick auburn curls spilled loosely across her shoulders. Small beads of amber and diamond twined through her hair - no feathers or turban to spoil the effect. Her skin was fair, with just the hint of ivory about it. She stood out like a living jewel. Even her dress shimmered, reflecting gold and red light. It was sleeveless; leaving her shoulders nearly bare – a bit daring for civilized society - but the style suited her admirably. A single velvet strap anchored the gown in place. Kevin longed to break it, and watch all that glittering cloth slither to the ground.
Her gaze was fastened upon the cards, so Kevin couldn’t see the color of her eyes; but they were framed with dark, lush lashes. No mask for this one; she seemed not to care what everyone thought. An ornate ring worn on her left hand caught Kevin’s attention. Amber again, and diamond - fashioned in the shape of a horseshoe.
Ah - married, then – how disappointing.
Just then she looked up, and Kevin saw gray eyes brushed with tears. His chest tightened. Whatever could be troubling her?
The dealer leaned forward and touched the lady's hand, his address reproachful. "Madame, do you wish to stand pat?”
Amber opened her mouth to reply, when a strong, male voice answered.
"The lady favor's taking a chance; don't you my dear?"
There was a caress in that tone, and not just in the endearment. Amber looked around the table.
Standing across from her stood a tall, black shadow with the devil's own smile. Thick black hair, held back by a clip of silver, skin browned by exposure to the elements - long, lean, elegant and dangerous; all this Amber registered in an instant. He was looking at her in a familiar way, as if he knew her; but she had never laid eyes on him before tonight.
"Well, my dear, do we play?” he asked softly, moving around till he stood at her side.
Amber found it hard to breathe, as if he consumed all the air in the room. The thrumming that had disturbed her mind all day pitched higher. There was something about him - something she felt she should recognize. Whatever it was - it held her immobile, staring like an infatuated schoolgirl.
Finally, her sense of propriety got the better of her. Tearing her eyes away, Amber opted for retreat. If she ignored him, he would surely go away.
"I'll take a card on each, and play them up".
The dealer resumed play. Now the man was standing directly behind her. She could feel his body press against hers. The jolt of it set her skin on fire. It was as if he were touching her naked, as if her clothing didn’t exist at all. What was he up to? Did he think her one of the whores that frequented the place? Amber’s heart began racing.
"And have you made your bet?” he breathed into her ear, sending shock waves tingling down her spine. "I know I've made mine." This time his hair tickled her neck, almost startling her out of her chair.
"My bet, sirrah, is no business of yours," Amber moved her head aside, trying to avoid further contact with him. "Please leave off, and let me continue play."
"I'd like to make it my business," Kevin leaned in closer trying to catch another whiff of her delightful fragrance. The scent even clung to her hair.
And her voice! Low, husky, sensual. His eyes followed down the line of her neck. Full bodied, yet slender - not a bit overblown, as were most of the women present.
And what was that scent? Whatever it was, it smelled expensive.
All the bets were in. More patrons drifted in to watch the hand being played. The first card went down. The ace of clubs! Twenty-one!
This made the dealer a little nervous. There was a lot of money on the table. If she won the split, his cash reserves for the evening would be sadly depleted. Perhaps it was time to stack the odds in favor of the house.
Hidden in a pocket under the table lay several cards put aside for use against such a situation as this. Before he could grasp the replacement, a large brown hand covered his.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you”; Kevin had noticed the mans surreptitious movements. “Imagine the stink if it became known that cheating was allowed in this ‘fine’ establishment. Why, it would be closed in an instant. And you would lose more than your position, my friend”.
A thin film of sweat appeared on the dealer’s brow. Truly, he would be held responsible by the clubs owners if he were turned in. And they were not the kind it was wise to cross. Although cheating was encouraged, you were never supposed to be caught doing it. Employees who had been ‘disciplined’ sometimes disappeared without a trace. Smiling nervously at Kevin, the dealer moved his hand out from under Kevin’s vice-like grip.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.” The dealer was really sweating now. What if this gentleman made a case out of this incident! And what about the lady? The dealer looked down at her. She seemed frozen – waiting for the game to continue. He glanced up nervously at the tall man menacing him.
“May I continue the play, sir?” The dealer’s hand hovered above the top card in the deck.
“Just make sure you play the cards in your hand, fellow”. Kevin’s stance relaxed a bit, though his eyes never left the table. “The lady deserves a fair chance, don’t you agree, my dear?” With that, Kevin’s hand came to rest lightly on Amber’s shoulder.
The shock of it was like winter static.
Amber shrugged him off. A delicate flush worked its way up her face. First he harassed her - now the dealer! Whatever his motive, the man was interrupting her play, and she wanted him gone.
“This is my hand, and I would appreciate you backing off!” Amber didn’t dare look up at him. Her skin still tingled from his touch.
The dealer cleared his throat. “Shall I continue, Madame?”
Amber took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “Please do”.
The dealer moved forward. A second card was placed on the table. Amber began to breathe again. The Ace of Spades!
Kevin stiffened when he saw it.
It was an omen – it had to be! This particular card held special significance – each time it turned up, Kevin’s life had changed radically. Well, well, well! Who knows what the rest of the evening could bring?
He was just about to suggest they share a supper, when Darcy finally stumbled into view.
"Kevin, darling," Percy effused, "you must meet my dearest friend," Percy looked at the rather vague young man standing next to him. “Whatever did you say your name was, lovey, I've quite forgotten?"
Percy swayed a little as he clung to his most recent conquest. Kevin was forced to put out a restraining hand to prevent disaster. By the time Percy detached himself, Kevin’s mystery woman had evaporated.
"Bloody hell!" Kevin swore to himself, pushing Percy and his friend aside in his haste. Where had she gone? She couldn’t have disappeared. He quickly scanned the room. Damn! Not a sight of her,
Kevin turned back to the table. The final hand of cards was still there.
"You, dealer," Kevin grabbed at the dealers arm. "Do you know who that lady was? Does she play here often?"
The man shrank back in panic. "No, sir, I mean yes sir I’ve seen her here, but no sir I don’t know who she is. May I close up now?"
The dealer moved to clear the table. People had already left the area, searching for different amusements. He had to shut down – all his ready cash had just walked out the door. That and he had some heavy explaining to do when he turned in his receipts.
Kevin reached down and picked up her final card, the Ace of Spades. This, at least he would keep until he found her again. Kevin’s personal fortune had begun on the turn of this card. He had won a ship from an old pirate, and turned that win into a business whose concerns reached as far as India and the Americas. The Ace of Spades was a symbol of luck, and Kevin took it to mean that this woman was meant for him.
Never had any woman intrigued him enough to pursue her. Usually he was besieged by more than willing females of all types and ages. His position as well as his fortune made him a target for every marriage-minded mama in London; despite the scandal attached to his name.
Most were willing to overlook that little item, provided he marry one of their daughters. A title - especially that of Duke could wash away a great deal of dirt. Then there were the widows and other, married women who sought him out for more direct pleasures, though he tended to avoid those. No, Kevin had never suffered from lack of companionship.
This woman was different. There was a direct emotional impact. Kevin was intrigued. That and he felt the need to find out what troubled such a lovely woman, and sweep it away, along with her in the process.
Kevin felt a hand on his arm. Turning to shrug it off, Kevin saw Percy step back into the arms of his clinging amour.
"Lord ha’ mercy, my dear friend," Percy hiccupped. He had, after all, consumed vast quantities of opium that evening. "Pray tell us what has your knickers in such a twist?"
Kevin hauled Percy up so far his feet left the floor. Unwilling to interfere, Percy’s companion beat a hasty retreat.
"You know, I've about had it with your simpering, imbecilic attitude and your stupid observations. The only reason you are not now lying in twelve separate pieces on the floor is that I am otherwise occupied!”
"Well, now; no need for that, old man," Percy extracted himself with some difficulty. "You don’t have to be so precious about it! Perhaps I can help, don't you know?"
His lovely coat was covered with wrinkles and he was sure there was a tear in all that lace by his throat. Kevin was such a brute. And now his evening’s entertainment had flown the coop.
Kevin looked down at Percy. "The lady at the twenty one table; the beautiful redhead dressed in gold - do you know who she is?"
Percy was still fussing with his clothes. "Really, do you expect me to notice every tart that comes into the place? That’s not exactly my style, you know."
No sooner had Percy finished speaking than Kevin grabbed him again.
"All right, all right, old man. Leave off! I do happen to know who she is, but I can't tell you while you're holding me by the throat!"
"Then be quick about it or I may do more than that,” Kevin put Percy down.
"Oh very well”. Percy fussed a bit over the condition of his beautiful jacket. This was really too much. Titled or not - the man was an uncivilized oaf, and his manners were deplorable.
“The 'lady' in question is the wife of a very dear friend of mine, Lord Harold Randall. At least, I know him as well as any. Old Harry keeps much to himself, don’t you know. Anyway, they have a small house here in town, and a rather large estate in the country near the coast. She usually accompanies him on his little escapades, though she never indulges in anything other than gambling."
Percy leaned forward with a conspiratorial tone; "He's a member of the 'family', if you catch my drift. Married her so he could inherit both title and estate. Seems his father had his doubts about Harry's ability to carry on the family name and all that. Amusing what?"
Percy fanned himself with a rather large handkerchief. "Warm in here, wouldn't you say? What about a little libation to soothe parched throats? I understand the ‘green fairy’ is kept available for - shall we say - ‘special’ guests"? Percy turned to secure the refreshments.
"As soon as you have finished telling me all about your former friend and his lovely wife." Kevin steered Percy toward a couple of unoccupied chairs at the end of the roulette table.
"Whatever you say, old man," Percy arraigned himself comfortably, producing a small snuffbox. Ornately carved mahogany, adorned with a ram’s head, it was referred to as a ‘grotesque’. Percy found this highly amusing - but then Percy often found things amusing without any real cause.
Without offering Kevin any, he opened it and with a flourish, inhaling a somewhat copious amount. Fine white particles mixed in with the tobacco clung to his upper lip as he tapped at his nose with his handkerchief.
Kevin's disgust was tempered by his current need. This new fashion in snuff was proving to be the scourge of London. Kevin refused to traffic in it despite his holdings in the Americas. Its effects were insidious – worse even than opium. Percy’s use of it was constant and debilitating, often interrupting any attempts at clarity.
"Well," Percy settled comfortably into a gossipy tone. "It seems that Harry may have gotten himself into quite a fix. Due to the terms of his fathers will, he must produce an heir by his thirtieth birthday, or the estate goes to some obscure cousin. Harry retains the title, of course; but you know how much that will mean if he's penniless."
Kevin knew all too well. He had inherited his title from a profligate father who had frittered away the family fortune. Only going into trade - a practice looked down upon; but a necessity nonetheless - had bankrolled his current holdings.
Being Duke of Covington opened doors for Kevin; keeping them open was a constant occupation. Shipping meant money, and lots of it. Real wealth, however, came from pursuits less legitimate.
Percy rambled on. "That thirtieth birthday is just around the corner – this summer, in fact. It’s been all the talk. What’s Harry going to do? I’ve even put a fiver on it myself.” Percy’s nose started twitching. Kevin found it distracting.
“So this Lord Randall’s the target of gossip. Tell me something useful Percy or I’ll keep you here all god-damn night!” Kevin didn’t have to try very hard to sound threatening.
“All right, old man; all right! It affects the lady as well as her husband. Even with daddy dear dead and buried, his will was very specific about the inheritance. Every penny and every stick of furniture is entailed. Harry, and his sweet little wife, will be on their ass without a brass farthing, and no prospects for any income at all”.
More snuff made its way up Percy’s nose. Kevin recoiled slightly from the unappetizing sight.
“Trust me, darling – this would be a catastrophe. Harry’s very into living life at the edge. Why, I’ve heard rumors that would make your hair stand on end! Old Harry there is quite the libertine. Goes just a touch too far, don’t you know. Not my taste. I never looked good in red.”
What he meant by that Kevin couldn’t imagine. More of the snuff mixture made its way up Percy’s nose, causing him to cough and sniffle. After taking a liberal sip of Kevin’s wine to wash it all down, he was ready to continue.
“On occasion he has had to pay off some of his ‘amusements’ or they wouldn’t hold their tongues. Why I’ve even been told that ----- well, never mind. Can’t believe all that you hear. Anyway, this has cost lots and lots of money.”
“So - faced with an absolute impossibility, producing an heir and all, Harry has been spending the family fortune like water. And lately, he has had help wasting every penny."
Kevin glanced toward the twenty-one tables.
Percy laughed. "No, you silly goose, not the wife. Percy has a new playmate. Plays high priest to Harry’s demon lover. Way beyond the pale, but that’s what old Harry is in to these days. Amazing what money can buy. And this little leech clings to Harry’s money like new flesh. It is he who has encouraged this riotous spending. Not to mention tons of lavish gifts"
Percy turned his head aside for a moment and sneezed violently into his lace handkerchief. Kevin noticed traces of blood against the white lace. "Nasty stuff, snuff - but what can I do, it's so addictive." He wiped his nose vigorously, and continued his narrative.
"This bounder doesn’t even have the proper pedigree. Dutch or German I believe. Claims noble decent, but we all feel he's really just a peasant who's managed to reach above himself. I’ve heard his father was in trade, and, after all, doesn’t that truly define a man’s character?"
Percy caught himself and looked up rather embarrassed at Kevin. "Present company excepted of course, Your Grace."
Kevin smiled grimly and proceeded to light another cigar. He was used to being looked down upon - even by someone of lower rank. People of his class just did not enter the trades. It was more accepted to allow ones family to fall into poverty and decay than it was to salvage the situation through enterprise and ability. This prejudice was what kept Kevin as far away from the ton as possible. Many held his nouveaux riches against him. Coupled with the scandal of his father, it proved a formidable obstacle to any participation in what passed for polite society.
Kevin acknowledged Percy's apology with a nod.
"So - we have quite an intrigue here;" Percy continued with relish. "The situation is ripe for anything."
A young man dressed to the hilt in the latest fashion - swallowtail coat, pointed toes and oversize hat to boot - caught Percy’s attention.
“I say," He unconsciously sleeked back his hair and straightened his attire. "Did you see that? Love the shoes! I wonder who the new boy is?" Percy moved as if to follow the source of his attraction.
"Her name, you haven’t told me her name." Kevin caught Percy, stopping him where he stood. "Just tell me her name and where I may find her and you can hurry off and indulge yourself to your hearts content."
The sticky sweet smell of opium wafted across the table where they sat. Percy looked longingly up the stairs.
"Amber, her name is Amber," Percy replied, gathering up his snuff and tucking it into his sleeve. "The former Amber Raleigh of Huntington Heights. She is now Lady Randall. You can probably find her at their country estate somewhere near Cornwall. They usually spend the week there after being in town. I can't say where they'll be after that."
Kevin watched Percy head toward a gaggle of young fops near the bottom of the staircase.
No matter, he had the information he sought.
Cornwall? Kevin’s own estate, Covington Hall lay near Helston on the Cornish peninsula. One of many ancient estates that dotted the coast. He had heard the Randall name spoken of in passing; with some notoriety, in fact.
And the name Raleigh – it tugged at his memory. Something he should know. The tendril of thought escaped him. Well - he would be in Cornwall and home before the night was out – no matter how hard the ride. One of his private vessels was moored not far from there. Just in case.
Just in case of what? Kevin gathered up his cloak and headed for the door. Just what did he intend to do when he got there? She hadn't seemed interested in his advances; so an affair was probably out - not that he necessarily intended on starting one. The woman was married! Married to a fop, that was true, but married nonetheless. Still, the way his body had reacted!
Kevin walked outside the building and drew in a deep breath. The air was thick with fog. Much better than the atmosphere he had just left. Walking toward the end of the street he hailed a cab, pondering his next action.
A series of fast horses could get him to his ship, 'The Ace of Spades' by early morning. The ship could serve as his base of operations till he was through.
Through with what? He still had no clear idea what he was going to do about the beautiful Lady Amber Randall when he found her. All he knew was that he had to see her again no matter what the risk.
Speaking to the driver, Kevin settled back into his seat.
The cab moved through the night with the muted clip clop of the horse's hooves on the cobblestone streets. Hours separated him from his goal. Come hell or high water; this time tomorrow night Amber Randall would be his. No matter what the risk.
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