Zoë Archer - Sweet Revenge

She glided into the card room, offering whoever looked her way a bland smile. A few men glanced up at her, their gazes lingering, but she politely ignored them as she pretended to idly watch the games in play. She meandered around the chamber, taking her time. Finally reaching the table where Gilling sat, she feigned observing the game.

“I hope I’m not disrupting, gentlemen,” she said. “But I’d grown weary of dancing and thought to amuse myself with other pursuits.”

Gilling looked up from his hand and gave her a quick perusal. Liking what he saw, he said hastily, “No disruption at all, madam. We could deal you in, if you like.”

Marco had taught Eva how to cheat at dozens of card games, including whist. If she so desired, she could strip these men of every coin they carried, perhaps even take their signet rings and pocket watches. All the while they’d have no idea she swindled them. A clever rogue, that Marco. But then, the British government had trained him to be.

“I’ve no head for cards,” Eva said. “But I have every respect for those of you who do have that talent. Clearly,” she added, smiling, “you have an abundance of talent.”

Gilling’s pale cheeks flushed and he mumbled his thanks.

“Oh, do continue your game,” Eva urged as the other men became restive.

After glancing at her again, Gilling resumed playing. Eva made appreciative murmurs whenever he won a trick and exclaimed in dismay when he didn’t. Gilling preened beneath her attentions.

When all the tricks were played, and Gilling emerged the winner, Eva clapped then fanned herself.

“I never would have believed whist could be so exhilarating,” she trilled. “I find myself dreadfully overheated. Some fresh air would benefit me.” She gave Gilling a meaningful glance.

“There is a balcony,” he said, standing. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you?”

“You are kindness itself.” She took his offered arm.

A few men muttered, “Lucky dog,” and shot Gilling envious, incredulous looks. Apparently, bold widows did not usually make appearances in card rooms.

Together, she and Gilling left the chamber, his steps hurried.

“There’s a shortcut,” she said, pointing her fan toward the darkened corridor.

Needing no further urging, he led her into the passage. The hallway must be used mainly by servants, for the doors were narrow and the walls sparsely adorned. The sounds of the ball faded, the shadows thickened. There was no sign of Jack.

Gilling stopped and looked around, frowning. “Perhaps we ought to find another way. This seems wrong.”

A door opened behind them. They turned to see Jack stepping out of a chamber, blocking their path back to the ballroom. His brutal smile was calculated to frighten, and, judging by the stunned look on Gilling’s face, it was a success. Even knowing Jack as she did, Eva herself felt a shiver of fear.

“It’s very right, Gilling,” Jack said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

* * *

Like a bloody coward, Gilling immediately broke away from Eva and stepped backward. The sod actually put her between him and Jack, as if taking shelter behind her.

“You know who I am,” Jack said.

“J … Jack Dalton. You’re supposed to be in prison.” Gilling’s voice turned high and thin.

“Decided I’d had enough of bread and rock breaking.” Jack flexed his hand. “Rather break Rockley instead.”

Gilling stared at Jack’s arms, his shoulders. “I warn you,” Gilling piped, “if you attempt any violence I’ll—”

“That ain’t what I’m here to do. And I never attempt violence.” Jack’s mean grin widened.

Gilling swallowed hard. He shot an accusing glance at Eva. “You led me here! To him !”

“This is far more interesting than a game of whist,” she answered, and Jack loved the cold deliberateness in her voice. She seemed to hold many different women within herself, and yet all of them were her. He could explore her for a lifetime and never fully know all of her.

“What do you want?” Gilling demanded again.

“Same thing everyone these days wants.” Jack rubbed his fingers together. “The means to make myself comfortable.”

“A bottle of gin should see to that,” snapped Gilling, then looked terrified by his brief display of cheek.

“But it isn’t very lasting, is it, Mr. Gilling?” Eva asked. “What we’re proposing is a good deal more permanent.”

“Your money for my silence,” Jack said. He took a step toward Gilling, and the man sidled backward.

“Blackmail?” Gilling’s eyebrows rose. “There’s nothing you can hold over me. Certainly not someone of your class,” he added.

“Folks of my class know all sorts of valuable things,” Jack said. “Like the fact that you and Rockley skimmed your contract with the government. Took home a fine profit for yourselves while soldiers fired shoddy cartridges.”

“Utter nonsense!” Gilling countered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Your left eye twitches when you lie,” Eva said pleasantly. “Just a little. I saw it whilst you were playing cards. Not much of a bluffer.”

“I’m not lying!”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Gilling. The same look he’d give his opponents when they stood at opposite sides of the boxing ring. A match could be won before a single punch had been thrown.

Gilling turned even paler. “See here,” he gulped, “even if your allegations were true—which they aren’t—I haven’t any money to give. You’d be better served blackmailing someone else, someone with property and wealth.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Jack said. “What you’re going to do is help me get money out of Rockley.”

If Jack had a pen, he could’ve written on Gilling’s now paper-white face. The man’s mouth opened and closed.

“Just go to him yourself,” Gilling stammered.

“Too dangerous,” Eva said.

“Rockley and me,” Jack explained affably, “we’ve got what you’d call a history. You know that. I couldn’t get anywhere near him. But you can. You’ll be my middleman.”

“But how am I to get you any money from him?”

Jack said, “That’s your worry.”

“And if you don’t do as instructed,” Eva continued, “your involvement with the government contract will be brought to the attention of very interested parties. I imagine it wouldn’t be difficult to have you arrested on charges of treason.”

Looking hunted, Gilling tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve got written proof, Gilling,” Jack said. “The records you kept. They’re ours now.”

“Oh, God,” Gilling croaked. “I … I must go. I have to think.”

He stumbled past Jack and Eva, heading back toward the main hallway. Jack didn’t try to stop him, easy as the task would’ve been. Yet as Gilling lurched down the corridor, staggering around other guests, Jack and Eva followed wordlessly at a distance through the house. Gilling hurried down the front steps and into the street.

If Gilling arrived in a carriage, he didn’t wait for it to be brought around. Instead, he waved down a hansom and flung himself into it. He shouted instructions at the driver. The cab drove on.

With Eva right behind him, Jack ran for their hired carriage parked in the nearby mews.

“Don’t lose that hansom,” he called up to the cabman.

As soon as he and Eva were in the growler, it took off in pursuit. The cab raced through the streets, rocking from side to side. Jack braced his legs against the seat in front of him, and Eva held tight to the strap beside her. Neither of them spoke. He liked that she kept her silence while they were on the chase. No useless gabbing for the sake of hearing her own voice or making dull comments about obvious things. She had the calm, focused look of a hunter. A hunter in gold-colored silk, with yellow flowers in her hair.