Surrender

  It was Lucas’s turn to smile. Victoria shivered and turned her attention to the view outside the carriage. The streets may have been dark, but they certainly were not empty. They were filled with an endless line of carriages carrying the members of the ton to and from their interminable round of parties. The streets would be busy until dawn when the elegant vehicles would be replaced by farmers’ carts and milk wagons.

  Twenty minutes later Victoria felt the rented carriage draw to a halt. She peered out excitedly and saw a dingy, unpromising establishment with a broken sign hanging over its front door. She glanced at the faded lettering on the swinging sign.

  “The Green Pig?”

  “The name does not exactly whet one’s enthusiasm, does it?”

  “Do not sound so hopeful. I am not about to change my mind at this juncture.”

  “Somehow I didn’t think you would. Well, onward then, if you’re determined to go through with this.”

  If the outside of the Green Pig could be described as dingy, the inside could only be called sordid. Everything appeared to have been decorated in red at one time, but the red velvet drapes and carpets had turned dark and sooty and indelibly stained from years of rough wear and tear. The roaring blaze on the hearth cast an evil light over the entire scene, making the interior glow like the hell it was called.

  Victoria stared about in amazement as she followed Lucas toward the bar. She had never seen anything like this in her life. The shadowy room teemed with men from every walk of life, all intent on the next roll of the dice or turn of the card. Dandies and coachmen and professional boxers rubbed shoulders as they crowded around the tables. The tinkle of dice and the accompanying shouts of triumph or groans of despair created a continuous din. Tension, nervous excitement, and male sweat thickened the air, especially around the green baize tables where players stood three and four deep. Barmaids circulated through the throng, using ale and overflowing bosoms to coax reluctant players back into a game.

  Lucas thrust a tankard into Victoria’s hand. “Camouflage,” he muttered. “It will look odd if you are not drinking. But have a care. The Pig is notorious for the strength of its ale.”

  “Do not fret, Lucas. I shall not get so foxed that you will be obliged to carry me out of here,” Victoria assured him.

  “Good God, I should hope not.”

  Victoria took in the scene around her as she stood sipping at the contents of the tankard. Her eye was caught by a rather depressed-looking man being led upstairs by a sympathetic serving girl. When he returned a short time later, the gamester appeared eager to return to the fray, all signs of depression vanquished.

  Victoria was fascinated. “This is amazing, Lucas. Quite unique. Totally different from anything I have ever witnessed before.”

  Lucas eyed the crowd. “I am not so certain of that. It bears a certain striking resemblance to that crush at the Bannerbrooks the other night, don’t you think?”

  Victoria nearly choked on her laughter and a sip of ale. “If Lady Bannerbrook overheard that remark, I swear it would be weeks before you received another invitation from her.”

  “If Lady Bannerbrook knew where you were tonight, you would wait until the crack of doom for another invitation from her. What’s more, you wouldn’t get one from anyone else in Society, either.”

  “Now, do not try to terrorize me or depress me, Lucas, I am having a wonderful time. This is much better than the restaurant and a thousand times better than Vauxhall. Tell me, why on earth do those men keep trotting upstairs with the barmaids?”

  Lucas glanced briefly toward the narrow staircase at the far end of the room. “Those are losers who are being consoled and encouraged to try their luck again.”

  “Consoled?”

  “There are several small bedrooms upstairs, Vicky.”

  She blinked, aware of the heat rising in her cheeks. “I see.” She turned to peer more closely at the newest couple on the stairs. The man was staggering drunkenly and had to be supported by his companion. Victoria frowned. “I do hope you have never had occasion to climb those stairs, Lucas.”

  His teeth flashed in a rare, quick grin around the rim of his tankard. “Never, I give you my word. I told you once I have always been extremely discriminating in certain matters. In any event, the stairs are primarily for losers.”

  “And you always win,” Victoria concluded with a sense of satisfaction. “Really, Lucas, I cannot wait to throw the dice. My aunt and I taught ourselves how to play hazard when we were investigating a certain area of mathematics that relates to chance. Quite a fascinating game. Did you know that it is far easier to throw some numbers than others?”

  “I am aware of that.” Lucas’s tone was exceedingly dry.

  “Oh, yes, of course you would be aware of such things, wouldn’t you? Well, then, let us find ourselves a table.”

  “Control your enthusiasm, my dear. You do not want to throw the dice here. There isn’t an honest pair in the house.”

  “Nonsense. You are merely saying that to put me off. I came here to have fun and I intend to play. I am quite a skilled gamester, if you will recall.”

  “Victoria, you are not quite as skilled in such matters as you believe.”

  Her eyes widened innocently. “But I must be very good at gaming because I won the night we played cards.”

  “Victoria …”

  “The only other possible explanation for your losses that evening is that you did not play fair. But I hesitate to insult you by making such an odious accusation.”

  “Wise girl,” Lucas said coolly.

  “If I did insult you, would you call me out?” Victoria asked.

  “Hardly. I have a great dislike for pistols at dawn or any other time.”

  “An odd thing for an ex-soldier to say.”

  “The only reasonable thing for an ex-soldier to say if you ask me.”

  “You carry a pistol,” Victoria pointed out softly.

  He shrugged. “This is London and you will insist on dragging me out into the streets at night. I don’t have much choice.”

  Victoria took another sip of ale and then, feeling deliciously bold, she leaned closer. “Did you cheat that night we played cards, Lucas? I have been dying of curiosity ever since.”

  “It does not signify.”

  “Hah. If you are going to be that way, I shall find another fashion in which to amuse myself.” Victoria started toward the nearest table.

  “Victoria, wait ….”

  But Victoria was already making a place for herself near the action. Half-crushed by the press of hot, sweaty masculine bodies, she leaned forward to peer at the play. She was aware of Lucas moving into a position behind her but she paid no heed. The dice were already being handed to her. They clicked in her palm as she shook them and then hurled them lightly down onto the green baize.

  “The young nob’s got ’imself a main o’ seven,” someone called. Instantly bets were placed on Victoria’s next roll.

  Victoria felt a thrill go through her. Seven was an excellent number for a main, she recalled. She could almost ignore the smell of the male bodies that crushed her now. Knowing Lucas was at her back gave her a heady sense of invulnerability. She was quite safe and having a wonderful time. She rolled the dice again.

  “Eleven, by God,” a man yelled gleefully. “The cull’s nicked it.” Shouts of triumph went up around the table.

  Under cover of the din, Victoria turned to whisper to Lucas. “Nicked it? What’s that mean? I thought I’d won.”

  “You did win. That’s what ‘nicked it’ means. Collect your stakes, Vicky. You’ve had enough play,” Lucas announced.

  “But I am winning. I cannot possibly leave now.”

  A swaying, red-faced man in a threadbare coat and a dirty cravat overheard Victoria’s remark. He rounded on Lucas, eyes glaring. “Here now, the boy’s got a right to play. You can’t be draggin’ him off.”

  “The man is perfectly correct, Lucas. I have a right to play.”
r />   Lucas ignored the man and leaned closer to Victoria. He was clearly annoyed now. “Vicky, the management will let you win for a while until you’re hooked and then you’ll start losing. Heavily. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Well, I shall just play as long as I am winning,” she assured him cheerfully, and turned back to the table. She thought she heard Lucas swear softly and succinctly as she returned to the fray, but the shouts of her enthusiastic fellow players drowned out the words.

  Ten minutes later her excellent luck turned with a vengeance, just as Lucas had predicted. Victoria watched in shock as she lost all her accumulated winnings in one throw of the dice. Angrily she turned to whisper again to Lucas.

  “Did you see that? How could that happen? I was winning, Lucas. I cannot believe my luck would suddenly alter in such a fashion.”

  Lucas led her away from the table. “That’s the thing about luck, especially in a place such as this. I did warn you.”

  “You needn’t look so smug, you know. I was winning. Furthermore, I …”

  But Lucas was no longer paying any attention to her. His gaze, which had been unobtrusively scanning the room, stopped abruptly on a group of card players in the corner. “Damn it to hell.”

  “What’s wrong?” Victoria glanced at the card table.

  “I chose this place because I was fairly certain we would not run into any of your acquaintances here, but it appears I was wrong. We must leave at once.”

  “Lucas, do stop fretting so. No one will recognize me. One sees only what one expects to see and no one I know will expect to see me here dressed as a man,” Victoria argued.

  “I am taking no chances. Come along, Vicky.” Lucas started toward the door.

  Reluctantly she followed, casting one last, annoyed glance at the card table. “Good grief, that’s Ferdie Merivale, isn’t it?”

  “None other.”

  “He appears quite drunk, Lucas. Look at him, he’s barely able to sit in his chair and yet he is trying to play cards,” Victoria noted, concerned.

  “So he is. With Duddingstone, no less. Which means that Merivale will no doubt part with a large portion of the fortune he recently inherited. Stop dawdling, Vicky.”

  “What do you know of this Duddingstone?”

  “He’s an excellent player, a brilliant cheat, and completely without conscience. He’s not above taking advantage of a young fool like Merivale. Does it quite regularly, in fact.”

  Victoria halted abruptly. “Then we must do something.”

  “I am trying to do something. I am trying to get you out of here before Ferdie Merivale recognizes you.”

  “He is in no shape to recognize me or anyone else. Lucas, we cannot leave him in Duddingstone’s clutches. I am friends with Ferdie’s sister, Lucinda. I simply cannot stand by and let poor Ferdie be fleeced by a notorious player. He’s a nice boy.”

  “We are not going to stand by and watch. We are going to leave at once.”

  “No, Lucas. I must insist we do something.”

  Lucas turned around and glowered at her. “What, exactly, do you suggest we do?”

  Victoria considered the problem. “You will simply have to interrupt the play and persuade Ferdie to leave.”

  “My God. You don’t ask much, do you? What if Ferdie doesn’t wish to leave?”

  “You must make him do so.”

  “Impossible. That will cause a scene and that is the last thing we can afford.”

  “Do not worry about me, Lucas. I shall wait here near the door. Ferdie will never see me. All you have to do is fetch him out of here and put him in a carriage and send him home.”

  “You are the one I intend to put into a carriage and send home,” Lucas said through gritted teeth. “I knew this was going to be a mistake. I should never have allowed you to talk me into bringing you here.”

  “Hurry, Lucas. They are about to begin another round of play. You must rescue Ferdie.”

  “Now listen to me, Victoria ….”

  “I am not leaving here until you have rescued poor Ferdie. He’s a very sweet boy and he does not deserve to get chewed to pieces by this Duddingstone person. Go on. Save him.” She gave Lucas a slight push in the direction of the card table. “I promise to stay out of sight.”

  Lucas swore softly, but like any good soldier, he appeared to recognize defeat when he saw it. Without a word he turned on his heel and started back into the crowd.

  Victoria could see very little of what was happening, but a few minutes later Ferdie Merivale emerged from the throng, Lucas directly behind him. Victoria noticed that one of Ferdie’s arms appeared to be twisted at an odd angle behind his back. The young man did not look happy as he preceded Lucas out into the street.

  Victoria caught Lucas’s commanding glance and followed the two men at a discreet distance. Outside she could clearly hear Ferdie Merivale complaining loudly in a slurred voice.

  “Damme, Stonevale, you can’t do this. My luck was about to turn. Just a few more hands and I’d have had the man.”

  “A few more hands and you would be obliged to leave town tomorrow to rusticate indefinitely in the country. You would not care for that, Merivale. You are a city creature. How much had you already lost to Duddingstone?”

  Ferdie muttered something indistinct and Lucas shook his head grimly. “I know you don’t much appreciate this at the moment, Merivale, and I am not particularly enjoying myself, either, but neither of us has much choice. Perhaps tomorrow you will be grateful.” Lucas signaled a passing coach.

  “Bloody damn, Stonevale, I don’t want rescuing. I can handle the play,” Ferdie wailed drunkenly.

  “Do us both a favor. Next time you decide to throw away your inheritance, do it someplace where I am not likely to witness it. You have been a greater nuisance than you know tonight.” Lucas tossed the young man into the coach and gave instructions to the driver.

  The coach rattled off down the street and Lucas stepped back. He turned to look at Victoria.

  “Satisfied?”

  “That was very well done of you, my lord.” Laughing with relief and pride in his rescue efforts, Victoria stepped off the sidewalk to join him. “I swear, you have my undying gratitude even if you do not have Ferdie’s.”

  She saw him open his mouth to say something in response, saw the startling change in his expression as his eyes went to a point behind her, and then she heard the clatter of horses’ hooves on stone and the rattle of carriage wheels.

  The wheels sounded much too close. Victoria turned around to see just how close and saw a black carriage drawn by two black horses bearing down upon her.

  At that moment the safety of the walkway seemed miles away, and the scream that began in her throat disappeared into the pounding hooves and the screeching wheels of a carriage.

  Then something heavy struck her, carrying her back out of the path of the hurtling carriage. She sprawled under Lucas’s full weight as hooves and wheels went past scant inches from her booted foot.

  6

  “Some drunken idiot showing off his lamentable driving skills, no doubt,” Victoria said from the opposite side of the carriage.

  “No doubt.”

  She tried to see Lucas’s expression in the shadows. She was still somewhat shaken from the near miss, but mostly she was bubbling over with the excitement of the entire affair. Her main concern now was for her companion.

  Lucas had uttered barely a word since he had helped her up from the pavement and tossed her into a carriage. She could feel the angry tension in him. He was absently rubbing his leg and she wondered if he had hurt it rescuing her.

  “You were very quick, Lucas. I vow I would have been run down if you had not moved so fast.”

  Nothing.

  “Does your leg pain you very much?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  Victoria sighed. “It is all my fault, isn’t it? If I had not insisted on going to that gaming hell tonight, you would not have hurt your leg.”
>
  “That is certainly one way of looking at the incident,” Lucas said.

  “I’m so sorry, Lucas.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Well, not about going to the Green Pig, precisely,” she admitted candidly. “For I did have a marvelous time. But I am terribly sorry you got hurt.” Impulsively she slipped across the short distance between them and sat down next to him. “Here, let me massage it for you. I am quite good with horses, you know.”

  “Is that a recommendation?”

  She smiled, relieved to hear the unwilling humor in the question. “Of course. One needs to learn how to soothe a spirited animal after a bruising ride.”

  “You’re the one who probably got bruised. You were on the bottom. You are certain you’re not hurt?”

  “Oh, I am quite all right. One of the useful things about men’s clothing is that it provides much more protection for the body than an evening gown. If only you had not twisted your leg when you threw yourself toward me the way you did.”

  As she talked she put her hands on his thigh and probed experimentally. She was instantly aware of the strong sinew and muscle under her fingers. The snug-fitting breeches hid nothing of his natural contours. It was almost like touching his bare skin, she thought as she cautiously began to knead his leg.

  Lucas made no move to stop her. He simply sat there looking down at her as she worked over him. Victoria concentrated fiercely, anxious to bring him some relief from his obvious discomfort.

  There was very little give in him, she thought, squeezing the solid muscle. Hard as stone.

  “I really do appreciate what you did for Ferdie Merivale.” Victoria found herself speaking quickly in an effort to fill what seemed to her a highly charged silence. Her fingers dug deeper into his thigh.

  “I’m glad you do because I doubt that Merivale does.” Lucas sucked in his breath. “Easy, if you please, Vicky. That is my injured leg, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She lightened her touch, glancing up to see his expression. “Is that better?”

  “Much better.” He was silent for a moment longer and then he said, “You do have excellent hands. I envy your horses.”