Jane Feather - [V Series] Read Online Free PDF Page B

confident enough yesterday,” her brother reminded her, gathering up the cards. “And you’ve never failed yet.”
    “True.” Judith nodded resolutely to herself. “There has to be some way to persuade him to take me seriously. I suspect quarreling with him is the answer.”
    Sebastian laughed. “Well, you’re the fire-eater of the family, Ju.”
    “Yes, and I intend to put it to good use.” A tiny smile flickered over her mouth. She was unable to deny the prickle of excitement at the prospect of joining in a battle of wits and wills with the most honorable marquis.

3
    “G ood morning, Charlie.” Marcus greeted his cousin the next morning. Charlie was already at the breakfast table facing a platter of sirloin and mumbled an answering greeting through a mouthful of beef.
    “How much did you lose at the tables the other night?” Marcus inquired casually, pouring himself coffee. “When you were playing macao at Davenport’s table.” He regarded the chafing dishes on the sideboard with an appraising eye.
    Charlie swallowed his mouthful and took a gulp of ale. “Not much.”
    “And how much is not much?” Marcus helped himself to a dish of deviled kidneys.
    “Seven hundred guineas,” his cousin said with an air of defiance. “I don’t consider that beyond my means.”
    “No,” Marcus agreed affably enough. “So long as one doesn’t do it every night. Do you play often at his table?”
    “That was the first time, I believe.” Charlie frowned. “Why do you ask?”
    Marcus didn’t reply, but continued with his own questions. “Did his sister suggest you play at her brother’s table?”
    “I don’t remember. It’s not the kind of thing a fellow does remember.” Charlie stared at his cousin in puzzlement and some apprehension. In his experience, Marcus rarely asked pointless questions, and it seemed this series might well be leading up to a stricture on gaming … familiar but nevertheless mortifying.
    But Marcus merely shrugged and opened the newspaper. “No, I suppose it’s not.… By the by …” He folded back the paper and spoke with his eyes on the page. “Don’t you think Judith Davenport’s a little too rich for your blood?”
    Charlie flushed. “What are you trying to say?”
    “Nothing much,” Marcus replied, glancing briefly over the newspaper. “She’s an attractive woman and a practiced flirt.”
    “She’s … she’s a wonderful woman,” Charlie exclaimed, pushing back his chair, his flush deepening. “You cannot insult her!”
    “Now don’t fly into the boughs, Charlie. I doubt she’d deny the description herself.” Marcus reached for the mustard.
    “Of course she’s not a flirt.” Charlie glared at his cousin over the stiffly starched folds of his linen cravat.
    Marcus sighed. “Well, we won’t argue terms, but she’s too much for a nineteen-year-old to handle, Charlie. She’s no schoolroom chit.”
    “I don’t find schoolroom chits in the least appealing,” his cousin announced.
    “Well, at your age, you should.” He looked across the table and said, not unkindly, “Judith Davenport is a sophisticated woman of the world. She plays a deep game and you’re way out of your depth. She eats greenhorns for supper, my dear boy. People are already beginning to talk. You don’t want to be the laughingstock of Brussels.”
    “I think it’s most unchivalrous, if not downright dishonorable, of you to insult her when she’s not here to defend herself,” Charlie declared with passion. “And I take leave to tell you—”
    “Please don’t,” Marcus interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s too early in the morning to hear the impassioned rambles of a besotted youth.” He forked kidneys into his mouth. “If you want to make a cake of yourself, then you may do so, but do it when I’m not around.”
    Charlie huffed in speechless indignation, his face burning, then he stormed out of the breakfast parlor.
    Marcus winced as the door slammed shut.