Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(43)

“I may not be able to do this straight off,” Gabriel warned. “Usually I need some practice first.” He retreated to a distance of approximately fifteen feet from the table, and the nearby whist game paused temporarily as the gentlemen watched the proceedings.

Holding the corner of a single card between his index and middle fingers, Gabriel drew his arm back as if for an overhand throw. He focused on the carrot with narrowed eyes. His arm moved in a fast forward pitch, finishing with a flick of his wrist, and the card shot through the air. An inch-long section of the carrot was instantly severed. Lightning-fast, Gabriel threw a second card, and the rest of the carrot was divided in half.

Laughter and a smattering of applause came from around the room, and the children at the sideboard exclaimed in delight.

“Impressive,” Devon said to Gabriel with a grin. “If I could do that in a tavern, I’d never have to pay for a drink. How much practice did it take?”

“Regrettably, bushels of innocent carrots were sacrificed over a period of years.”

“Well worth it, I’d say.” Devon glanced at Pandora, his eyes twinkling. “With your permission, I’ll rejoin the whist game before they boot me out of it.”

“Of course,” she said.

Ivo observed the group of children still at the sideboard, and heaved a sigh. “They’re out of control,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to do something about it.” He executed a precise bow in Pandora’s direction. “You look very pretty tonight, Lady Pandora.”

“Thank you, Ivo,” she said demurely, and grinned as Ivo hurried away to herd his charges from the room. “What a little rogue,” she said.

“I think our grandfather—his namesake—would have doted on him,” Gabriel replied. “There’s more Jenner than Challon in Ivo, which is to say more fire than ice.”

“The Ravenels are rather too fiery,” Pandora said ruefully.

“So I’ve heard.” Gabriel looked amused. “Does that include you?”

“Yes, but I’m not angry all that often, it’s more that I’m . . . excitable.”

“I enjoy a woman with a lively nature.”

“That’s a very nice way to put it, but I’m not just lively.”

“Yes, you’re also beautiful.”

“No”—Pandora swallowed back an uncomfortable laugh—“no compliments, remember. I didn’t say ‘I’m not just lively’ to imply that I have other qualities, I meant that I’m extremely, inconveniently lively in a way that makes me terribly difficult to live with.”

“Not for me.”

She glanced at him uncertainly. Something in his voice caused a flutter in her stomach, like flower tendrils delicately searching for places to adhere.

“Would you like to play a game of whist?” he asked.

“Just the two of us?”

“At the small table near the window.” As she hesitated, he pointed out, “We’re in the company of at least two dozen people.”

There could be no harm in that. “Yes, but you should be warned: My cousin West taught me whist, and I’m very good at it.”

He smiled. “I’ll expect a fleecing, then.”

After Gabriel had obtained a sealed deck of cards, they went to the screened windows. He seated Pandora at a small marquetry table inlaid with precious woods that depicted a Japanese bonsai tree and a pagoda hung with tiny mother-of-pearl lanterns.

Gabriel opened the cards, shuffled them expertly and dealt thirteen apiece. He set the rest of the deck facedown on the table and turned the top card faceup. Whist was a trick-taking game with two stages: In the first stage, players tried to collect the best cards for themselves, and in the second, they competed to win the most tricks.

To Pandora’s satisfaction, she had acquired an exceptionally good hand with numerous trumps and high cards. She enjoyed herself immensely, taking risks whereas Gabriel was, predictably, more careful and conservative. As they talked, he entertained her with stories about his family’s gaming club. Pandora was especially amused by one about a card cheat, who had always ordered a plate of sandwiches during the game. It turned out that he had been slipping unwanted cards into his sandwiches. The scheme had been discovered when another player tried to eat a ham and potted cheese on rye, and ended up with a two of spades caught between his teeth.

Pandora had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. “Gaming is illegal, isn’t it? Are there ever raids on your club?”

“Usually the respectable West End clubs are left alone. Especially Jenner’s, since half the legislators in England are members. However, we’ve taken precautions in the event that a raid occurs.”

“Such as?”

“Such as installing metal-plated doors that can be bolted shut until the evidence is disposed of. And there are escape tunnels for club members who can’t afford to be seen. Also, I regularly grease a few palms in the police force to ensure that we have adequate warning before a raid.”

“You bribe the police?” Pandora whispered in surprise, mindful of being overheard.

“It’s a common practice.”

The information wasn’t at all appropriate for a young lady’s ears, which of course made it all the more fascinating. It was a glimpse of a side of life that was utterly foreign to her.