Fire Catcher by C. S. Quinn

flaming materials some distance.’
    There was a pause as this sunk in.
    ‘The Royal Barge hasn’t had an airing in a few weeks,’ Barbara observed casually. ‘Perhaps a trip along the river, Charles. Just to see the blaze for ourselves. Amesbury should come,’ she added generously.
    ‘The King has already agreed . . .’ began Clarence, his mouth a slim line of rage.
    ‘The river would be a good place to view,’ said Charles, lifting a thoughtful hand. ‘Perhaps we should at least see the blaze.’
    ‘Lady Castlemaine’s fine dresses will be stained with smuts and smoke,’ said Clarence desperately.
    Barbara gave a musical little laugh.
    ‘Oh you mustn’t worry about my fine dresses,’ she said. ‘You’ve said it yourself, Clarence. I am so rarely in them.’
    Clarence turned to the King.
    ‘Your Majesty, I must advise strongly against Lady Castlemaine’s fancy to see the fire. Your barge on the Thames could cause alarm.’
    But the King was hardly listening.
    Barbara twisted her head over her shoulder to where the nearest maid was massaging across her naked buttocks.
    ‘Be sure to work deep between,’ she said, eyeing the King. ‘His Majesty is particularly keen I am to be oiled there.’
    She moved her eyes to Clarence and winked.
    Clarence’s hands were balled in fists of rage. He wiped away a fresh crop of sweat from his red face. Barbara Castlemaine may have won this battle. But Charles’s bastard son, Monmouth, was responsible for the Royal Barge. Monmouth was spoiled and difficult. And he hated Barbara. Clarence would have some sway yet. He would win the war.

Chapter 21
    Lily was assessing his reaction like a practised card sharp. Charlie affected nonchalance but knew in his heart she’d seen through it.
    ‘You don’t know what my key opens,’ he said. ‘How could it be of value to you?’
    ‘The key is my price.’
    Charlie assessed his options.
    ‘I’ll wager the key,’ he agreed after a moment, ‘but the winner of each trick gets to ask a question. Three questions in all.’
    ‘You shouldn’t test me,’ she said, pointing to the front of the carriage, ‘I can take the key anytime I choose.’
    ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m stronger than you.’
    ‘I’m faster.’
    Charlie shrugged. There was no harm in letting her think it.
    ‘So take it,’ he said, ‘but you wouldn’t know how I came to carry it.’
    This time he had struck gold. A tiny muscle in her cheek twitched.
    ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘If you wish to lose at cards then so be it.’
    She drew a pack of cards from her skirts. Charlie took a seat opposite hers.
    ‘We play at fours,’ she said, handing him the cards.
    He smiled. All Fours was a classic choice for a card sharper. It involved a dizzying set of rules and the kind of memory and attention which slipped after a few drinks.
    Charlie sorted the pack, and made a show of checking for spots and marks which would allow her to cheat. She watched him, seeming amused.
    ‘I’ve no need to cheat,’ she said easily. ‘I’m too good.’
    ‘Even the best players lose sometimes,’ said Charlie.
    ‘Not unless they mean to.’ She took back the cards and began dealing.
    Charlie took up his six cards. She fanned the top cards of the pack, and he realised she was testing him to see if he knew the more complicated rules of play.
    He debated pretending not to notice, but decided she was too astute for that. Best let her think him good, but not realise how good.
    ‘Trick rules,’ he said. ‘If you deal like that one of us could count cards.’
    She nodded and swept the cards to the bottom of the pack without a word, though there was a glimmer of admiration in her eye.
    They played in silence, both assessing the other. Charlie hadn’t reckoned on how good she was. He watched her carefully. It all hinged on whether she was holding a Jack. With so little experience of seeing her play, he could not yet be sure of reading her