it
is?"
"Every
Royalist in England has business nowadays. One wants his property back. Another
wants a sinecure that'll pay a thousand a year for helping the King on and off
with his drawers. The galleries are full of 'em—country squires and old
soldiers and doting mamas who've heard the King has an eye for pretty women.
They all want something—including me. I want Almsbury House back again and my
lands in Herefordshire. His Majesty couldn't please all of us if he were King
Midas and high Jupiter rolled into one."
"What
does Bruce want? Carlton Hall?"
"No,
I don't think so. It was sold, not confiscated, and I don't believe they'll
give back property that was sold." He finished the bottle and leaned over
to pick up another one.
The
Earl could drink more with less effect to himself than any man she had ever
seen, and Bruce had told her that it was because he had lived so long in
taverns that his blood had turned to alcohol. She still was not sure whether he
had meant it as a joke or the solemn truth.
"I
don't see what he can want," she said. "As rich as he is."
"Rich?"
Alsmbury seemed surprised.
"Well—isn't
he?"
Amber
knew very little about money for she had never had in her possession more than
a few shillings at a time and could scarcely tell the value of one coin from
another. But it seemed to her that Lord Carlton must have fabulous wealth to
own a coach-and-four, to wear the clothes he did, to buy such wonderful things
for her.
"By
no means. His family sold everything they had to help the King and what they
didn't sell was taken from them in the decimations. That jewellery he found at
Carlton Hall was just about everything that was left. No—he's not rich. In
fact, he's damned near as poor as I am."
"But
what about the coach—and my clothes—"
"Oh.
Well—he has that much. A man who knows what he's about can sit down for a few
hours at cards or dice and come away several hundred pounds to the good."
"Cheating?"
She was rather shocked, almost inclined to think that Almsbury was lying.
But
he smiled. "Well, perhaps he plays a little upon advantage But then, we
all do. Of course some of us are clever at it and some not so clever— Bruce can
slur and knap with any man in Europe. He made his living for most of fifteen
years with a pair of dice and a pack of cards—and he lived a damned sight
better than most of us did. In fact, the other night I saw him win twenty-five
hundred in four hours at the Groom Porter's Lodge."
"Is
that what all this business is he goes upon—gambling?"
"Partly.
He needs money."
"Then
why doesn't he ask the King for it—since everyone else does?"
"My
dear, you don't know Bruce."
At
that moment she heard a coach come banging down the street and left him to rush
to the window—but to her disappointment it continued on by and rounded the next
corner. She stayed there, looking out into the darkness, for there were no
street lights of any sort but only the pale gleam from the new moon and the
stars. The streets were deserted, not a person was in sight. London citizens stayed
home at night unless they had a very good reason to go abroad, and then they
took with them an escort of linkboys or footmen.
In
the distance she saw the glow of the bellman's lantern and could hear his
monotonous refrain: "Past ten o'clock of a fine warm summer's night and
all's well. Past ten o'clock—"
Completely
absorbed in her worries about Bruce, she had forgotten that Almsbury was there
at all. But now she felt his arms go around her, one hand sliding into her
dressing-gown, and with the other he turned her about and kissed her on the
mouth. Astonished, she gave a little gasp and then suddenly shoved him away,
slapping him resoundingly across the face.
"Marry
come up, sir!" she cried. "A fine friend you are! When his Lordship
hears about this he'll run you through!"
He
stared at her for an instant in surprise, and then threw back his head and
laughed. "Run me through! Jesus, sweetheart, but
is?"
"Every
Royalist in England has business nowadays. One wants his property back. Another
wants a sinecure that'll pay a thousand a year for helping the King on and off
with his drawers. The galleries are full of 'em—country squires and old
soldiers and doting mamas who've heard the King has an eye for pretty women.
They all want something—including me. I want Almsbury House back again and my
lands in Herefordshire. His Majesty couldn't please all of us if he were King
Midas and high Jupiter rolled into one."
"What
does Bruce want? Carlton Hall?"
"No,
I don't think so. It was sold, not confiscated, and I don't believe they'll
give back property that was sold." He finished the bottle and leaned over
to pick up another one.
The
Earl could drink more with less effect to himself than any man she had ever
seen, and Bruce had told her that it was because he had lived so long in
taverns that his blood had turned to alcohol. She still was not sure whether he
had meant it as a joke or the solemn truth.
"I
don't see what he can want," she said. "As rich as he is."
"Rich?"
Alsmbury seemed surprised.
"Well—isn't
he?"
Amber
knew very little about money for she had never had in her possession more than
a few shillings at a time and could scarcely tell the value of one coin from
another. But it seemed to her that Lord Carlton must have fabulous wealth to
own a coach-and-four, to wear the clothes he did, to buy such wonderful things
for her.
"By
no means. His family sold everything they had to help the King and what they
didn't sell was taken from them in the decimations. That jewellery he found at
Carlton Hall was just about everything that was left. No—he's not rich. In
fact, he's damned near as poor as I am."
"But
what about the coach—and my clothes—"
"Oh.
Well—he has that much. A man who knows what he's about can sit down for a few
hours at cards or dice and come away several hundred pounds to the good."
"Cheating?"
She was rather shocked, almost inclined to think that Almsbury was lying.
But
he smiled. "Well, perhaps he plays a little upon advantage But then, we
all do. Of course some of us are clever at it and some not so clever— Bruce can
slur and knap with any man in Europe. He made his living for most of fifteen
years with a pair of dice and a pack of cards—and he lived a damned sight
better than most of us did. In fact, the other night I saw him win twenty-five
hundred in four hours at the Groom Porter's Lodge."
"Is
that what all this business is he goes upon—gambling?"
"Partly.
He needs money."
"Then
why doesn't he ask the King for it—since everyone else does?"
"My
dear, you don't know Bruce."
At
that moment she heard a coach come banging down the street and left him to rush
to the window—but to her disappointment it continued on by and rounded the next
corner. She stayed there, looking out into the darkness, for there were no
street lights of any sort but only the pale gleam from the new moon and the
stars. The streets were deserted, not a person was in sight. London citizens stayed
home at night unless they had a very good reason to go abroad, and then they
took with them an escort of linkboys or footmen.
In
the distance she saw the glow of the bellman's lantern and could hear his
monotonous refrain: "Past ten o'clock of a fine warm summer's night and
all's well. Past ten o'clock—"
Completely
absorbed in her worries about Bruce, she had forgotten that Almsbury was there
at all. But now she felt his arms go around her, one hand sliding into her
dressing-gown, and with the other he turned her about and kissed her on the
mouth. Astonished, she gave a little gasp and then suddenly shoved him away,
slapping him resoundingly across the face.
"Marry
come up, sir!" she cried. "A fine friend you are! When his Lordship
hears about this he'll run you through!"
He
stared at her for an instant in surprise, and then threw back his head and
laughed. "Run me through! Jesus, sweetheart, but
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