Page 41 of A Game of Scandal

“And you seemed to be acquainted with the owner of the gambling establishment we were in…” He let the statement linger like a question.

“Oh, him,” I said mechanically, again wishing I was better at this game of deception. “Not really. We met the night I played vingt-et-un. He accused me of cheating, if you can believe it.” I let indignation bleed into my words. If in doubt, I thought, a version of the truth was probably the best bet.

“Unfortunately, I can believe it.” Laing nodded. “He’s amiable enough, but a man of limited imagination. However, he seemed quite taken with you.”

“I believe he has a reputation as a flirt,” I said, as coolly as I could manage.

“I think you do yourself a disservice, Lady Felicity.” Laing still carried that strange intensity. “It’s likely a man like Ash would be susceptible to your particular … charms.”

I really didn’t know how to respond to that.

He smiled at me then, changing the subject. “I suppose you were keeping a count of the cards when you played vingt-et-un?”

After a moment of hesitation, I nodded.

“It was a pleasure to watch you play with such skill. Your gift of concentration is a powerful thing.”

“I suppose it’s important to focus if one wants to win,” I replied. “And you, Mr Laing? Have you been playing draw poker long? You’re an accomplished player yourself.”

“Thank you.” He chuckled, pleased. “I’ll admit that I’ve been considered something of expert in the game for a while now. It was quite a thrill for me, to finally come up against a worthy opponent.”

“You took your loss well,” I said, aiming for a playful note.

“You believe I lost?” His words were soft. “Sitting here with you, Lady Felicity, I assure you, I feel like the true winner of our game.”

I opened my mouth – to say what, I wasn’t sure – but he cut me off.

“I can only assume from your presence here that you’re being launched into society.” His eyes cut to my mother, who was trying to spy on us inconspicuously by standing behind a stout gentleman and darting looks around his shoulders. “Time for you to have a season. In other words, your family are trying to find you a husband.”

“That’s very forthright of you, Mr Laing,” I managed, attempting to keep up with this turn in the conversation.

“Forgive me, I felt that you’d prefer to speak plainly. It’s a difficult situation for a young woman of your quality to be in.” His voice was gentle, once again full of understanding.

“If we’re to speak plainly,” I said, nettled, “then I should tell you I have absolutely no intention of taking a husband.”

If I had expected to surprise him, I was to be disappointed.

“I understand perfectly.” He nodded, as if what I said was extremely sensible. “Though I hope I’ll be able to change your mind.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked.

Whatever he might have said in response to this was cut off by my mother’s approach.

“Felicity,” she said brightly. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

Laing got to his feet at once and bowed over my mother’s hand, his charming smile slipping into place.

“Edward Laing, Lady Vane. I’m delighted to meet you.” He straightened. “I hope you won’t mind me commandeering your lovely daughter’s attention. I’ll readily admit that I’ve been fascinated by her from our first meeting.” Here he shot me a look, as though we were both in on some joke, as I sat, still reeling from his previous words. Had Edward Laing implied that he wished to … marry me?

“Oh?” Mother couldn’t conceal her delight at Laing’s obvious flirtation. “And where might that have been?”

“At the Wynters’ wedding reception some months ago,” Laing lied smoothly. I was certain he hadn’t been at the wedding at all.

“Ah, yes.” Mother nodded. “I’ve been out of town for some time, so I missed the wedding, though I heard the ceremony was delightful.”

“It certainly was,” Laing said. “So delightful, in fact, that I’m sure it turned more than one bachelor’s mind in the direction of matrimony.”

“I’m certain you must be right, Mr Laing,” Mother said, pleasure in her eyes. She was more than happy to follow the trail of breadcrumbs Laing left for her – and who could blame her? He was hardly being subtle. “But tell me: how are you acquainted with our host?”