“Yes,” she said, “I should like that.” Why was he being so nice? So very unmenacing?
Frances watched silently as a footman brought in a card table, Otis behind him, holding two decks of new cards.
After Frances was seated, Hawk dismissed the servants. He said to Otis, “Take yourself to bed, Otis. I shall ensure that all the candles are doused in here.”
“As you will, my lord.” Otis paused a moment, his eyes on Frances. She was behaving very oddly this evening, saying next to nothing, eating less, and her face was pale. He said very gently, “My lady?”
The two words held a wealth of question, but Frances merely forced herself to smile at him. “I am fine, Otis. Good night to you.”
Otis bowed and took himself from the drawing room.
“Shuffle and deal the cards, my dear,” Hawk said, “and I shall get us some brandy.”
At least he wasn’t standing over her to see her mangle the deck of cards. By the time he set the brandy snifter at her elbow, she had managed to deal the correct number of cards.
Hawk picked up his cards and sorted them. He said, “Do you enjoy brandy, Frances? Perhaps you would prefer something else?”
“N-no, this is fine.” She raised her glass and sipped. The warm liquid slid down her throat and landed squarely in her nearly empty stomach.
She began to sort her own cards, staring at them stupidly, half-listening to Hawk. “I suppose I became quite the successful gambler in the army. There were stretches of inactivity, you know, and not much for the officers to do after drilling the men. Many times we didn’t play for money, which was probably just as well, as I remember both winning and losing fortunes.”
He looked up and smiled at her. “Four,” he said.
Frances managed to consult her hand with some intelligence. “How much?”
“Forty-one.”
“Equal.”
“Quart,” Hawk said.
“That is good,” Frances said.
“A tierce also, my dear. Three aces.”
Play continued. Hawk found himself a good deal impressed with her skill, but as they continued, she lost her edge rapidly.
His wife, he saw with gleaming eyes, was becoming quite drunk.
“More brandy?”
Frances shook her muddled head and selected a card, a ten of hearts, and blankly watched Hawk gently place a queen of hearts over it. “You did not count,” he said.
At the close of the game, Hawk said lightly as he tallied the score, “Pity we aren’t playing for money. You are in a dreadful situation, Frances.” He dropped the pencil and leaned back in his chair. “A long day.”
“Yes,” Frances agreed, toying with an eight of spades.
“I find myself quite fatigued.”
Her mind sharpened with sudden miraculousness. “I too,” she said quickly.
“You held excellent cards, my dear.”
She shrugged but was forced to agree.
“Shall we go upstairs now, Frances?”
He watched the myriad expressions cross her face. The expression that remained was one of wariness. “What will you do?”