“There is no need for concern.” She remained resolute. “You may trust my judgement. A small drop of port will do no harm.”
Gesturing to the waiting footman, Priscilla instructed him to bring the decanter and glasses. The servant placed the crystal vessel on the small trestle table at their side and began pouring. Matthew’s curious gaze scanned the unfamiliar decanter.
What, did he really think she’d be foolish enough to fall prey to Boden’s scheming? A few drops of laudanum would cloud her judgement enough to make mistakes in the game. A few drops would diminish her ability to stop the lecherous lord from making an amorous advance should the need take him.
“Instead of port, I wonder if I may have brandy.” Boden’s desire to drink something other than the drink he’d tampered with was not surprising. “You’d prefer brandy wouldn’t you Parker?”
The red-haired gentleman nodded. “Too much port gives me gout.”
“Well my husband shall join me in a glass, and you gentlemen shall enjoy a brandy.”
They all accepted their respective glasses. Matthew stared at her as he brought it to his lips.
“Trust me,” she reiterated. It was a lot to ask from a man who trusted no one. “The liquor will have no effect on your ability to play.” She turned to Boden. “Many a drunk has played carelessly at the tables.”
Boden snorted. “Indeed, hence it’s only right we all take a drink.”
The sneaky scoundrel.
It took a tremendous effort not to jump up and punch him on the nose.
Little did he know that she’d watched him enter the room when he thought no one was looking. Having learnt that he’d drugged the port at Holbrook’s card game, and that he’d presume port would be her choice over brandy, she’d arranged for both decanters to be changed. On Anne’s advice, the small amount of laudanum she’d added to the brandy would be enough to muddle the arrogant lord’s mind.
After raising their glasses in a salute to Fate, the game began.
Boden’s tactic in all previous games was to let his opponents win the first few tricks. As per their earlier conversation, Priscilla was to play low, particularly if playing her strongest suit, while Matthew would divert suspicion and mix up the play.
Priscilla and Matthew won the first four tricks — Boden and Parker-Brown the next four. The slight movements of hand and face were harder to detect when seated around the table. To stare at the men during play would seem odd. With so much at stake, the pressure to focus took tremendous effort. Indeed, the tension in the air was like a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders.
When they lost the next hand, Priscilla sensed her husband’s frustration and knew that they had no choice but to concentrate on their own game.
But how was she to communicate her intentions?
Matthew’s growl of disapproval when they lost the next hand gave her the opportunity she needed.
“Your mind is too distracted,” she said. “It is easy to analyse the game when watching from the crowd. To be in the midst makes it harder to anticipate how one’s opponents might play.”
“Perhaps it’s the port.” Matthew nodded to the footman who removed his glass.
Boden chuckled and swallowed a mouthful of his brandy. “Can’t take your liquor? Perhaps it’s time to accept you have no skill at cards.”
“Ignore Lord Boden,” Priscilla interjected before her husband leapt across the table and throttled the man. “He is simply trying to put you off your game. There is no need to look at anyone else here but me.” Their eyes locked. She arched a brow, exaggerated the movement in the hope he would read her silent communication. “Like the queen of hearts, I hope to have a favourable influence.”
One corner of Matthew’s mouth twitched. He rubbed his cheek, pressed his fingers together in the sign used by Boden and his ilk. “Then as your king, I welcome your assistance.”
Excellent.
He understood her meaning perfectly.
They continued playing, Priscilla using the breathing technique to convey the numbered cards, the slight movements to indicate the face cards. Boden and Mr Parker-Brown were too concerned with watching each other to notice anything untoward.
Counting the cards took concentration. But being the first to reach five points, they won the first game.
“It seems your luck is improving, Chandler.” Mr Mullworth tapped Matthew on the shoulder. The portly gentleman raised his chin to acknowledge Mr Parker-Brown. “You know what they say. Trouble comes in threes. There’s every chance you could lose again this evening.”
Members of the crowd jeered.
“Enough with your blabbering,” Lord Boden chided. The whites of his eyes carried a hint of pink. The pupils contracted to tiny black dots. The rigid line of his jaw had softened. “Only when you find the courage to play are you worthy of passing comment.” Snatching the brandy glass off the table, he downed the contents in such a way as to show his disdain. “Now let’s get on with the blasted game.”