Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(42)

As she stared up into his smiling eyes, she felt as if her heart were opening all its windows. “I was demonstrating cloud formations with my potatoes,” she said. “I don’t think Mr. Arterson appreciated my stratocumulus.”

“I’m afraid we’re all a bit too frivolous for him.”

“No, one can’t blame him. I knew better than to play with my food, and I’ve resolved never to do it again.”

Mischief flickered in his eyes. “What a pity. I was about to show you the one thing carrots are good for.”

“What is it?” she asked, her interest piqued.

“Come with me.”

Pandora followed him to the other side of the room. Their progress was briefly interrupted as a half-dozen children crossed in front of them to pilfer sweets from the sideboard.

“Don’t take the carrot,” Gabriel told them, as a multitude of small hands snatched almond and currant cakes, sticky squares of quince paste, crisp snow-white meringues, and tiny chocolate biscuits.

Ivo turned and replied with a chocolate biscuit making a bulge in his cheek. “No one is even thinking of taking the carrot,” he told his older brother. “It’s the safest carrot in the world.”

“Not for long,” Gabriel said, reaching over the herd of feasting children to retrieve a single raw carrot from the side of a dessert tray.

“Oh, you’re going to do that,” Ivo said. “May we stay and watch?”

“Be my guest.”

“What is he going to do?” Pandora asked Ivo, wildly curious, but Ivo was prevented from answering as a matron approached to shoo the marauders away from the plates of sweets.

“Off with you, now!” the vexed mother exclaimed. “Begone! Those sweets are too rich for you, which is why you were all given plain sponge cake at the end of your dinner.”

“But sponge cake is just air,” one of the children grumbled, while pocketing an almond cake.

Suppressing a smile, Gabriel addressed his younger brother in a quiet undertone. “Ivo, weren’t you put in charge of managing this lot? It’s time to demonstrate some leadership.”

“This is leadership,” Ivo informed him. “I’m the one who led them in here.”

Pandora exchanged a laughing glance with Gabriel. “No one likes dry sponge cake,” she said in Ivo’s defense. “One may as well eat a sponge.”

“I’ll take them out in a minute,” Ivo promised. “But first I want to fetch Lord Trenear—he’ll want to see the carrot trick.” He dashed off before anyone could reply. The boy had taken a liking to Devon, whose straightforward masculine character and ready sense of humor appealed to him.

After settling the matron’s ruffled feathers, and cautioning the children not to take all the sweets, Gabriel led Pandora toward a narrow pier table in the corner of the room.

“Now, what is that for?” she asked, watching as he took out a pocket knife and pared the end of the carrot.

“It’s part of a card trick.” Casually Gabriel set the carrot into a silver candleholder on the pier table. “In the absence of an honest talent such as singing or playing piano, I’ve had to develop what few skills I possess. Especially since for the greater part of my youth”—he had raised his voice just enough that his father, who sat at a nearby table playing whist with the other gentlemen, could hear—“I was abandoned to the unwholesome companionship of the sharpers and criminals who frequented my father’s club.”

The duke glanced over his shoulder with an arched brow. “I thought it would benefit you to learn about worldly vice firsthand, so you would know what to avoid in the future.”

Gabriel turned back to Pandora with a glint of self-mocking amusement in his eyes. “Now I’ll never know if I could have earned a misspent youth on my own, instead of having it handed to me on a silver platter.”

“What are you going to do to the carrot?” she demanded.

“Patience,” he cautioned, retrieving a fresh deck of cards from a stack on a nearby tray table. He opened the box and set it aside. Not above showing off, he shuffled the cards in midair, executing a riffle and bridge cascade.

Pandora’s eyes widened. “How do you do that without a table?” she asked.

“It’s all in how you hold the deck.” With one hand, he divided the deck in half and flipped both halves onto the back of his hand. With breathtaking dexterity, he tossed the two packets of cards into the air so that they spun around completely and landed in perfect reverse order in his palm. He continued with a rapid succession of flourishes, making the cards fly from one hand to the other in a fluid stream, then blossom into a pair of circular fans that snapped shut. All of it was magically graceful and quick.

Devon, who had come with Ivo to watch the proceedings, gave a low whistle of admiration. “Remind me never to play cards with him,” he told Ivo. “I would lose my entire estate within minutes.”

“I’m a mediocre player at best,” Gabriel said, spinning a single card on his fingertip as if it were a pinwheel. “My talent with cards is limited to pointless entertainment.”

Leaning close to Pandora, Devon counseled as if imparting a great secret, “Every card sharp begins by lulling you into a false sense of superiority.”

Pandora was so mesmerized by Gabriel’s card manipulations that she barely heard the advice.