“Rose made a point of chatting to those young men in front of whom Nigel had been indiscreet,” Ellen said. “They were well away themselves and hadn’t seemed to have read anything into Nigel’s comments.” She tipped her head. “In fact, it seemed doubtful they’d even remembered them.”
They were almost at Bigfield House; as they turned out of the shrubbery and headed for the side door, Christopher said, “That is arguably the biggest factor in our favor—namely, that the guests are all young men of self-centered disposition. At that age, in such a setting, their minds focus on having a good time to the exclusion of all else.”
Ellen laughed cynically. “I’ve seen enough to know that’s all too true.” She halted before the side door and met Christopher’s eyes. “As those attending our last party will be of exactly the same type, I have to concede that there’s a definite possibility that, baiting Fate or not, Drake’s plan will continue to remain more or less on track.”
Christopher tipped his head in gentle acknowledgment, opened the door and held it for her, then followed her inside.
The final card party commenced in much the same manner as the previous two. Ellen arrived at Goffard Hall decked out in a gown of pale-green satin sporting ribbons and bows in a darker shade of green, with a dark-green paisley silk shawl draped over her largely bare shoulders. The inevitable green ribbons cascaded from the knot securing her upswept hair. Joining her in the stable yard, Rose looked at the gown and shook her head. But she said nothing as she walked, escorted by two manor footmen, to the house. Ellen and Christopher, who had accompanied her from Bigfield House, followed.
Once again, Ellen trailed up the stairs to sit in the armchair in Rose’s room while Archer assisted Rose to don her finery.
That evening, Rose chose a dramatic gown composed of swaths of black and white silks. With her dark hair and pale skin—and the long length of pearls waiting to be draped about her neck—Ellen had to admit the hostess of the evening would stand out among the horde they now expected to attend.
Three more card tables had been fetched from Bigfield House. Luckily, the London footmen had brought enough packs of cards to supply the extra tables as well as the original ten.
Archer was fussing with Rose’s dark curls when a tap fell on the door. Ellen turned her head to see Julia peeking in. Julia’s gaze went to her stepmother, then she beckoned Ellen.
Ellen rose. After a glance at her charge—who appeared fully absorbed in subtly applying cosmetics to her cheeks—she walked to where Julia hovered in the doorway. “What is it?”
With her gaze tracking Ellen in the mirror, her hands busy with a comb, Archer whispered, “I did as you said, ma’am. When I fetched your pearls from the master, I made sure I took a good look into the place he keeps them, and there is a package there, just like you thought.”
Via the mirror, Rose met Archer’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you, my dear. I knew I could rely on you.”
The stiffly prim Archer softened. “Always, my lady.”
Rose’s gaze shifted to Ellen at the door. “Hush, now—and not a word to anyone.”
“Of course not, my lady.”
Across the room, her expression exasperated, Julia met Ellen’s eyes. “Nigel just boasted to Carter that the number of guests attending tonight will likely be more than half again the number we had on Thursday evening. Apparently, there was a boxing match held this afternoon somewhere south of Tenterden, and many of those from London who attended will have heard of the Goffard Hall card parties and are likely to head our way, following others who’ve been here before.”
Ellen sighed. “Well, it appears this event will be a horrible crush—every hostess’s dream.” She cast a jaundiced glance at Rose, still seated at her dressing table with Archer fastening the pearl necklace, looped several times about Rose’s throat, at her nape.
On turning back to Julia and noting the way the younger woman was gripping her fingers, Ellen said, “Never fear—we and the household will manage.”
She looked past Julia to Christopher, lounging against the corridor wall, and smiled. “And look on the bright side. After such an event—one that will generate a good deal of talk among the young gentlemen of the ton—the mastermind will surely assume that Rose will have successfully exchanged the entire shipment of counterfeit notes and come calling sooner rather than later.”
Christopher inclined his head. “Good point.”
Julia didn’t look convinced.
Remembering the younger woman’s preference for quiet, Ellen closed her hand over Julia’s twining fingers and gently squeezed. “If the crowd becomes too much to cope with, you can always retire.”
Julia met Ellen’s eyes. “I know.” Then her chin firmed. “But with Robbie by my side, I’ve been managing.” She raised her head. “We’ll see.”
“Good.” Smiling reassuringly, Ellen patted Julia’s hands.
Christopher glanced past Ellen. “Is Rose ready? It’s time we went downstairs.”
Ellen looked across the room and saw Rose rising from the dressing stool. “The answer appears to be yes.”
Resplendent in her black and white, Rose walked toward them. As she neared, she arched a brow at Ellen. “Ready for the final act, Miss Martingale?”
Ellen stepped back and waved Rose ahead of her. “We’re all more than ready, Rose.”
As she followed her charge out of the room, Ellen caught Christopher’s eye and rolled her own. She couldn’t wait for the evening—now certain to be a horrendous crush—to be over.
An hour later, Ellen could confirm that Nigel’s prediction had been accurate. She’d heard more than enough about the boxing match and its outcome, and there were far too many bodies for anyone’s comfort now crammed into the rooms.
Not that jostling bodies and a lack of openings at the tables seemed to deter young gentlemen intent on gambling. Over the past three parties, she’d noted an increasing tendency for those gathered about the various tables to wager on the turn of a card or on the chances of a certain card appearing. Tonight, the only game being dealt was vingt-un, which gave plenty of scope for the onlookers to wager between themselves.
The footmen were having to fight their way through the throng, with eager hands reaching from all around to relieve them of the glasses of wine they were endeavoring to balance on their trays.
Behind her easy smile and pleasant expression, Ellen herself was distinctly hot and bothered. Courtesy of the crush, she had to exert significant physical effort to maintain her position by Rose’s side.
And of course, because of that very crush, it was even more critical that she do so; she hadn’t lost her suspicions of Rose, and regardless of the woman’s unexceptionable behavior during the past two parties, Ellen didn’t trust Rose not to speak to someone or pass on a message or do something that would scupper Drake’s plan.
With her teeth gritted behind her increasingly strained smile, with dogged determination, she clung to Rose’s company; at one point, she looped her arm in Rose’s and literally clung.
This night cannot end soon enough.
Sadly, with the evening’s festivities being a grand finale of sorts, they’d decided to let the tables run until at least two o’clock.