Fortune's Son (9 page)

“Hear, hear!” cried Walpole's supporters with glasses raised.

Undeterred, Pitt added, “Yet the king himself advocates steps to contain the hegemony.”

A protracted silence reigned, in which Lord Stair, General Wade, and Colonel Selwyn exchanged mysterious and knowing looks. Mrs. Selwyn's expression took on a look of desperation, Mrs. Walpole appeared offended for her husband, and the Countess of Yarmouth simply looked bored.

Taking this all in, and sensing the mounting tension over the dinner table, Lady Messingham seized the moment to introduce a new topic of conversation. “Mr. Pitt,” she began in a voice clear enough to be heard by all, “I hear you are the MP for Old Sarum. I am also from Wiltshire, and wonder if you are perchance related to our legendary ‘Diamond' Pitt.”

“Given the multitude of his famous misdeeds and exploits, my grandfather would surely be perturbed to know he is best remembered for a stone.” The gentleman laughed, but his attention remained acutely aware of remarks at the far end of the table.

“Only a stone, you say? The diamond will be written in the annals of posterity.”

“Indeed, my lady. 'Twas more than a mere stone. Uncut, it was recorded at 410 carats.”

“Lackaday, sir!” Lady Messingham exclaimed and the countess nearly choked on her wine.

Recovering, Lady Yarmouth was keenly interested. “A diamond of 410 carats? Pray enlighten us, sir. I must hear this story.”

“Anything to please my lady,” he replied gallantly. “As many of you know, my grandfather Thomas Pitt was for many years a merchant in India.”

“An interloper and an adventurer, little better than a pirate,” Sir Robert added in an undertone.

Overhearing the remark, Pitt turned to the minister. “My grandfather was an independent sea merchant, a man of strong character, but not a criminal. 'Tis true he operated outside the bounds of the East India Company, but he was opposed to the monopoly.”

“It was a government-sanctioned monopoly, and there were multiple writs for his arrest.”

“Bah!” cried the countess. “What difference does it make? I wish to hear of this diamond!”

“Of course, your ladyship,” Pitt said to the countess and continued his tale. “After he was finally
detained
, the same government which fined him forty thousand pounds for his supposed illegal trading activities appointed him governor of Madras.” Pitt's expression bespoke vindication. “At the end of his five-year tenure as governor, he came by an enormous diamond. A slave is said to have smuggled it out of a Golkonda mine by hiding it within a gaping wound on his leg.”

“How horrid!” cried the countess.

“Even more shocking when the slave was murdered for it.”

“Murdered?” she gasped.

“Shamefully, by an English sea captain who sold the stone to an Indian merchant in Madras, who in turn sold the uncut stone to my grandfather for twenty thousand pounds. He sent it back to England with my father who for safekeeping, hid it in the heel of his shoe. Upon arrival home, he hire a London jeweler named Harris to cut it. The labor took two entire years, resulting in a hewed 141-carat cushion brilliant.”

“Did you ever see it?” the countess asked, by this time fondling her own brilliant teardrop necklace.

“Sadly, no, but my father did. He accompanied my grandfather to Calais where John Law, the Scottish financier, brokered its sale to Philippe II, Duke of Orléans. The primary stone is now part of the crown jewels of France.”

“How much did he pay, dis Duc?” asked the countess, her personal avarice overriding the English taboo of discussing money.

“The largest of the three diamonds sold for one hundred thirty-five thousand pounds.”

“Three diamonds?” she exclaimed. “Where are de others?”

“Did I not mention? Forgive my lapse, my lady. There were two smaller, but flawless, stones also fashioned from the same cut. These were purchased by Czar Peter of Russia.”

“How I would love to have seen such diamonds,” Lady Messingham remarked.

“Bah! How I would love to wear them!” interjected the Countess of Yarmouth, already bedecked with sparking jewels.

“Indeed, Countess,” agreed Mr. Pitt. Catching Lady Messingham's eye, he raised his glass, adding for her ears alone, “But only the worthiest of women deserve such gems.”

As the ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to take port, Colonel Selwyn took Lady Messingham aside. “I would be remiss if I failed to commend your adroit diversion of young Mr. Pitt earlier.”

“It was nothing, sir. I was intrigued to know the story.”

“Nevertheless, the shift served to diffuse mounting hostilities and may have saved the evening. I thank you, my dear.” He then prompted Mrs. Selwyn with a meaningful look.

“You mentioned a penchant for whist, Lady Messingham,” Mrs. Selwyn interjected. “We have need of a fourth. You may partner Lady Walpole, if you care to join us.”

Susannah followed Mrs. Selwyn with more than a little skepticism of her suddenly solicitous manner. The hostess performed introductions by precedence, beginning with the Countess of Yarmouth.

Lady Messingham curtsied in deep obeisance to the king's Hanoverian mistress. After a grave assessment from head to toe, the countess's lips slightly curling upwards indicated she had passed muster.

“I belief we haf met before,
ja
? But you were den with your husband. I think such a
Gemahl
Greis
for such a
Mädchen Schön
. He is now passed away, your husband?”

“Several months ago, my lady. I am flattered you remember me.”

“And Lady Walpole?” Mrs. Selwyn indicated the minister's former mistress Maria Skerritt, now his wife, who nodded serenely.

“So pleased to meet you.” Lady Messingham repeated her curtsy and then took the proffered chair at the card table.

Mrs. Selwyn called for cards. The footman presented the pack to the countess who began her nimble shuffling sequence of riffles and bridges. “A short rubber of five games?” she asked. The others nodded agreement and she began dealing the first of the thirteen tricks.

“But what of the stakes?” Lady Messingham asked.

“Stakes?” Lady Walpole exclaimed. “Are you not aware that parliament's Gaming Act has prohibited wagering at cards and dice except at the royal residences? With so many MPs present, dare we flout the law by wagering?”

“
Mein
dears, surely there can be no harm to venture a few coins on the game,” said Lady Yarmouth.

“Others do so with impunity,” argued Mrs. Selwyn. “You need look no further than our own Baroness Mordington for example.”

“That may be so, but she is not married to our First Lord of the Treasury,” Lady Walpole gently protested.

“Ach!” the countess cried in dismay. “It is of little consequence. It appears I haf forgotten
mein
purse.” Noting Lady Messingham's emerald eardrops with rapt interest, she asked Lady Walpole, “Dis new gaming law of which you speak, it does not preclude play for a prize?”

“A prize is deemed perfectly legal,” the lady agreed.

“Den what woman needs money when we haf our jewels?” The Countess removed a golden bracelet from her pale fleshy arm, and placed it on the table. She looked expectantly to Lady Messingham, exclaiming, “What exquisite gems you wear in your ears,
mein
dear.”

Perceiving no tactful way to refuse, Lady Messingham removed them with great reluctance, knowing their value to be treble that of the bracelet. The countess smiled with satisfaction at Mrs. Selwyn, who then turned to Lady Walpole. They removed a ruby ring and a pearl choker respectively, also setting them on the baize-covered table.

After eyeing the baubles with a covetous gleam, Lady Yarmouth proceeded to deal each player thirteen cards, turning up the last card dealt to determine the trump suit for the first game.

***

When the gentlemen entered the salon, the rubber was still in progress, with Mrs. Selwyn dealing the third hand of five to be played.

Philip approached the frowning Lady Messingham and murmured, “How goes it, my Lady Fortune?”

“Feebly,” she replied in a low voice. “Lady Walpole and I are at love, and it appears I am about to lose some of my most prized jewels.”

“Are you indeed?” He peered at her cards discreetly over her shoulder and then struck a languid pose to observe casually the last two hands. Feigning only moderate interest in the game, he grinned and flirted with the countess, while with hooded eyes he tracked every card, every gesture of the play.

Lady Yarmouth ended the rubber, laying down her final trump card with a triumphant slap. Aglow with glee, she and her partner Mrs. Selwyn divided the booty. The countess then removed her own earrings, replacing them in her ears with the emeralds, while Mrs. Selwyn caressingly admired her own prize, Lady Walpole's milky strand of pearls.

“Another rubber after tea, ladies?” Mrs. Selwyn suggested as the footman arrived with the cart.

“I shan't play,” Lady Walpole replied with chagrin. “I fear I am proven a most inadequate partner. So sorry, my dear,” she addressed Lady Messingham. “I have enough to explain to Sir Robert as it stands. The pearls were his gift,” she said remorsefully.

“Ach, you English lack
de
Geist
… de spirit!” The countess snapped her fan shut in emphasis. “Are you also so fainthearted, my Lady Messingham? Surely we can find you another partner. Mayhap de young gentleman?” The countess grazed Philip's well-built form in obvious appreciation.

Philip stepped forward readily, bowing over her hand. “I am, as always, your obedient servant, my Lady Yarmouth.”

“My servant, you say? But there are many types of servants,
ja
? Some offer humble compliance, others begrudging obedience, but very few are truly
eager
to please.” Her pause was fraught with meaning. “Of which variety are you,
mein
liebling
?”

“Undoubtedly one most eager to please,” he answered fluently. “Do you prefer long or short play, countess?”

“Ach! What a question you ask! I find
long
play
so much more rewarding. Do you not agree,
mein
dear?”

Philip responded to the innuendo with a charming flash of white, secretly pleased to see Lady Messingham's brows pull together ever so slightly at their outrageous banter. Philip answered the look. “Perhaps my partner would care for refreshment or a turn about the room before the next rubber?”

“Indeed I think I would,” Lady Messingham replied and took hold of his sleeve. Once out of earshot she said, “I don't understand it, Philip. Although I culled a few cards to deal Lady Walpole and myself several honors, even given this advantage we failed to take the majority of tricks. In the last hand, ne'er a one! My partner was surely not such a poor player. 'Twas as if our opponents read one another's very minds.”

“Hardly, my dear. Reading one another's signals is more the case.”

“What do you mean, Philip? Do you say they cheated?”

“With a system as well-developed as any common sharper.”

She looked aghast at the revelation.

“During the play, I observed significant gestures they used to cue one another on which suit to lead. When the countess fingered her necklace, it was a signal to lead diamonds. When Mrs. Selwyn sipped her claret, it was to indicate hearts as her strong suit. Finger-tapping on the table indicated clubs.”

“And spades?”

“Use of the ubiquitous fan.”

“I would never have guessed it! How perceptive you are!”

“I have a natural gift of observation, and necessity has led me to hone it.”

“Then we'll now ply it to
our
advantage.”

“Indeed we shall. As we have seen, these two ladies are old hands at play. Court circles are notorious for cultivating cheats, especially amongst the fair gender who love to play but are so very reluctant to pay.”

“How shocking!” she replied.

“'Tis why I endeavor never to engage in play with women.”

“So why do you now make exception?”

He paused as if asking himself the very same question, and slowly answered, “Perhaps I've a guilty conscience for leading you down this perilous path.”

“But you did not lead. If you recall, I gave you little choice.”

Her green gaze met his intently, suddenly igniting the memory of her lingering kiss that first night in the carriage.
Little
choice
indeed.
He shook himself from this brief fantasy, painfully struck with the awareness that there was little he would not do for her, to have her.

“Regardless of how I got into this,” she continued, “I'd dearly love to have my emeralds back.” In truth, she was devastated by the loss, considering the jewels she had already sacrificed.

“Then you've need of a strategy which was sadly lacking in your prior game with Lady Walpole.”

“What do you mean? If not brilliantly, I thought we played quite competently.”

“I beg to differ. On more than one occasion you failed to lead your longest suit.”

“But is it not best to lead a singleton?”

“Only when you know you will trump in that suit, and when you are reasonably assured that your partner is able to continue the suit led.”

“How do you know so much of this game? I thought your forte was the dice.”

“Hazard is always my preference, as I have learned to minimize the randomness of chance, but I have no short acquaintance of the cards. I neglected my classical studies by spending more hours examining Charles Cotton's
Compleat
Gamester
than applying myself to Homer.”

“And this
definitive
guide
has made you an expert on whist?”

“Not exactly, but I consider myself more than proficient. At Harrow, I was quite the master of ruff and honors, from which the principles of whist are derived. To the uninitiated, whist appears a rather simple game, but it has tremendous potential for scientific play.”

“But how can even science help while our opponents cheat?” she asked with a pout.

“It is not near as difficult as you think, now they have revealed themselves. We'll simply employ some signals of our own.”

“What kind of signals?”

“Just watch my discards. If our opponents are drawing trumps, I'll indicate my preference of play by throwing a low card of my strongest suit.”

“And what of the honors?”

“Fear not, my lady. Upon my deal, you will be endowed with many honors.” He winked.

“How very generous of you.” She beamed. “How shall I best play them?”

“I suggest in the first hand, when I ensure you hold both king and ace, you should lead the king, but in the second hand, it is ofttimes preferred to play lower, and even to split honors.”

Intent upon every word, she pursed her lips in keen concentration of his instructions.

So close to his own, Philip's concentration began to waver in meditation of her ripe lips, with that damned scent of hers further distracting his thoughts. One deep inspiration and he'd be lost in her very essence.

“I'm not sure I understand. What is splitting honors?” she asked, snapping him out of his brief reverie.

Now
what
the
devil
had
he
been
saying?
Ah
yes, honors.
“The honors are the face cards of the trump suit. You should ordinarily play your lower face cards to protect the higher. For example, play the knave or ten while holding the queen, or the queen when holding the ace. This manner of finessing can prove advantageous. But now I fear we are being beckoned back to the table.” He remarked Lady Yarmouth's frown at his extended private discourse with the younger and more beautiful Lady Messingham. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“I believe I now have a firmer grasp of the game. But Philip, what have you to wager?” she asked, suddenly noting the lack of adornment in his dress and the slightly worn condition of his clothes.

He reassured her with a grin and pulled a bejeweled snuffbox from his pocket. “Surely this item should entice the king's mistress. She may recognize it as once belonging to Bubb Doddington, one of the wealthiest men in England and close friend to the Prince of Wales. He was quite distressed by his loss.”

She looked her question.

“The hazard table at Blackfriars. One should never wager what one is unprepared to lose.”

“But what if
you
lose?”

He answered matter-of-factly, “The box means nothing to me. Besides, I play to win. If you follow my lead, I daresay we'll not only retrieve your emeralds by the end of the evening, but also add a diamond necklace to boot.”

Giddy with the notion of replacing what she had lost, she rewarded him with a smile so dazzling his breath caught. “You know, Philip, I've always been so very partial to diamonds.”