Page 26 of A Game of Scandal

“And this is Lord Jasper Covington,” Horatio continued, gesturing to a younger man, much closer to my own age, who wore an expression of utter world-weariness, and whose face, when I examined it more closely, was aged by a sense of dissipation – a bleary pinkness to his eyes, which were lined with blue shadows, a pallor to his skin. His eyes flickered over me, taking no trouble to conceal their path along the lines of my dress, the curves of the body within it.

“Mrs Williams?” he said, almost on a sigh. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” That, it seemed, said it all, and I was dismissed as someone of no interest. If I had been worth knowing, then Jasper Covington would already know me.

“No, I think I’ve been denied that pleasure,” I agreed.

“And, finally, we have my good friend, Mr Edward Laing!” Horatio boomed, delighted.

I steeled myself to face the man who Izzy believed to be a ruthless killer, but saw, as I had before, only a friendly, open countenance and an air of polite interest. He was handsome in a mild, non-threatening sort of way, and immaculately turned out, shoes gleaming, everything perfectly buttoned up, starched and pressed. I was flooded with doubt. Had Izzy got the wrong man?

“I believe I had the pleasure of meeting you last week, Mrs Williams,” Edward Laing said, his voice smooth and rich, full of the playful amusement I remembered from our last encounter. “When you were dazzling with your skill at vingt-et-un.” He grinned at me.

“I don’t think dazzling is quite the right word,” I demurred.

“Don’t undervalue yourself,” a voice came from behind me. “Dazzling is precisely the right word to describe you.”

I turned, and there was Ash with his lopsided grin, and my heart jumped in a peculiar way. Ash lifted my hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across my fingers. This resulted in a sensation tearing through my body that I imagined was something like the experience of clutching a live wire.

“Mrs Williams,” he said. “Lovely, as always.”

I tugged my hand away and found Laing watching us with interest.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” Laing said, directing the words to Ash, and though they were easy I felt something rippling beneath them, something hard to pin down. An edge, perhaps. He stepped towards Ash and held out his hand. “I’m Edward Laing.”

Then the two of them were shaking hands with a heartiness that spoke of much masculine muscle flexing.

“Ash,” the pirate said, all ease, with a smile that showed his teeth.

“So it really is only Ash?” Laing’s brows raised.

“I am an economical man, Mr Laing,” Ash replied lightly. “One name suits me fine.”

“Ah.” Amusement crept into Laing’s voice. “But I’m afraid your reputation precedes you, Ash.” He gestured around the room. “Economical is hardly the first word that I’ve heard used to describe you.”

“Fair enough.” Ash turned his gaze to me, eyes glittering. “I must admit that in most things I do enjoy a bit of excess.” The words were almost a purr.

“Well, perhaps you’ll allow me to steal you away, Mrs Williams, and escort you to your seat?” Laing said, offering his arm with a chivalrous bow that tidily dismissed the other man.

“Don’t you want something to eat first, love?” Ash plucked a grape from the table and threw it in the air, catching it in his mouth. He winked at me as I gaped at his lack of manners. Clearly he had decided to behave outrageously.

There was the faintest crinkling of Laing’s nose, and he squeezed my arm as if reassuring me. “Perhaps I could fix you a plate?” he murmured, all good breeding.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, shooting Ash a quick and daggering glare.

Unrepentant, Ash shrugged. “Suit yourself, but don’t blame me if your stomach starts growling during the game.”

“A gentleman does not talk about a lady’s stomach,” I said. “In fact, I don’t think a gentleman is supposed to acknowledge that ladies have stomachs.”

“Ah, but as I have told you several times, Mrs Williams, I am no gentleman.” He didn’t need to add, “and that’s why you like me,” because I heard the words anyway, as clear as if he had whispered them straight in my ear.

“Perhaps you could show me to my seat,” I said, turning to Laing. “Is there a particular seating plan?”

“Indeed there is,” Laing said as he guided me in the direction of the table, his body curved gently over mine as if protecting me from Ash’s uncouth ways.

I had believed Izzy when she’d told me that Laing was some sort of criminal mastermind. Now I was here, beside him, it seemed impossible. He was so ordinary and our surroundings were so elegant and comfortable. It seemed the wildest fancy that a world full of conspiracy and murder could even exist.

“Now, the dealer will sit there.” He gestured to one of the seats.

“That would be me,” Ash said from around a ham sandwich that he had slapped together.