The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(25)

Fortunately, the card room was right where Edwin found him. Unfortunately, Fulkham was playing cards with Lord Rathmoor, the man who’d married Edwin’s former fiancée.

Fulkham looked up before Edwin could retreat. “Evening, Blakeborough,” the baron said, with a furtive glance at Rathmoor. “Someone said you were at Lady Maribella’s party. We didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

That was probably why the man had felt comfortable inviting Rathmoor to the club as a guest. Meanwhile, Rathmoor looked anything but comfortable. Damn. This would be harder than Edwin thought.

“I was at the party but didn’t stay to the end,” he answered.

“Come play with us,” Fulkham said. “Rathmoor is slaughtering me at vingt-un and needs some competition.”

Edwin hesitated. He’d have to be cautious in questioning the baron as it was, since he barely knew the man. With Rathmoor there, it would be even more difficult.

Still, much as Rathmoor probably resented Edwin for attempting to marry Jane, Edwin knew the viscount was discreet.

That was why Edwin preferred dealing with men. A man asked direct questions, got direct answers, and nobody pressed him for more. There was none of this nonsense about compliments and such.

Besides, as a former Bow Street runner, Rathmoor might be able to shed some light on Durand. As long as Edwin didn’t let on that this had anything to do with Clarissa, there’d be no chance of either man’s leaking information that could harm her reputation.

A card game might be the perfect venue for asking questions that seemed casual. Especially a French card game. It was an obvious opening.

“I believe I will join you.” Edwin took a seat between the two men. “What are the stakes?”

“Five pounds to start.” Fulkham lifted an eyebrow. “Unless that’s too rich for your blood.”

“It’s fine.” Edwin enjoyed cards most of the time, especially since he rarely lost, but tonight he would be hard-pressed to keep his mind on the game.

They determined that Rathmoor would be dealer. With a grim expression, he shuffled the cards, his movements rigid. Perhaps Edwin should directly address the difficult issue between them before going on to more productive subjects.

“How is Jane?” Edwin hadn’t seen her since her wedding to Rathmoor several months ago, so it should be a perfectly acceptable question.

Given the way Rathmoor stiffened, perhaps not. “She’s well,” he clipped out and dealt each of them two cards.

Edwin examined his cards and did some quick mental calculations, then indicated he wanted another card. “I understand you’re renovating Rathmoor Park.”

Rathmoor’s gaze shot to him, still wary. “We are.”

The other two men both took another card as well.

Edwin chose to stand at nineteen. “I’m sure Jane will be a great asset in that endeavor. She has a keen sense of how to decorate effectively.”

Rathmoor softened a fraction. “She does indeed. How did you know?”

“After my father died and I wanted to redo the town house, she made several helpful suggestions. Yvette was very grateful for the advice, since I had put her in charge of the furnishings.”

“Jane has a knack for such things.” Rathmoor examined his cards and chose to stand at seventeen. “She’s good at managing people.”

Fulkham asked for another card, and then chose to stand, too.

“She certainly is.” As they each turned their one facedown card over, it occurred to Edwin that Jane had tried to manage him from time to time, and he’d chafed at it. She’d gone about it so single-mindedly, much as his sister had always done.

But Clarissa teased and challenged him, which he found vastly more enjoyable. Living with Jane would probably have been more trying than he’d realized at the time. Rathmoor seemed happy enough with her, but that was because the man fancied himself “in love.”

At least Yvette was no longer trying to manage Edwin’s life. Though sometimes he missed that.

“Congratulations, Blakeborough,” Rathmoor said, “you win this one.”

“Hmm?” Edwin looked down to see he had turned up a two to go with his nineteen. Twenty-one.

Rathmoor had twenty, and Fulkham had gone bust.

But the baron didn’t seem perturbed by that, for he laughed. “Your mind is a million miles away, isn’t it?”

“Sorry.” Edwin swept the sovereigns to his side of the table. “I was woolgathering about my sister.”

“Surely you needn’t worry about her now that she’s married.” Rathmoor sounded less uncomfortable than before as he picked up the cards and shuffled.

“No,” Edwin answered. “Keane is a good man. He’s proved to be far more reliable than rumor had led me to believe. And until he came along, she had to fight off scoundrels.” He slanted a glance at Fulkham. “Speaking of scoundrels, someone asked me about the Count Durand’s character.” That was almost true.

“The charge d’affaires?”

“Yes.” Edwin cut the cards for Rathmoor, who began to deal. “Have you heard anything about him? He seems quite the smooth-talking fellow.”

“That’s necessary for a man in the diplomatic profession,” Fulkham said.

“If he’s the charge d’affaires, shouldn’t he be intent on doing his duty by the ambassador and not running around courting women?” Edwin tapped for another card. “The person who wanted information about him was upset by his pursuit of a certain female relation.”