Highest Stakes (55 page)

The older of the two gentlemen dealt out twelve cards each. The younger and more rotund of the pair perused his hand and exchanged five. His eyes, revealing the seven-spade straight and four aces in his hand, gleamed in his wine-flushed face.

  "Your Grace." The older man nodded, inviting the King's younger son to declare his hand.

  "I'm afraid it does not bode well for you, sir. I declare a point of seven."

  "Good," his partner replied warily, hoping the suit of seven spades was not also consecutive.

  "
Septieme
." His Grace's second declaration confirmed that he indeed possessed seven of the eight possible spades.

  "Good."

  With no attempt to hide his glee, Cumberland remarked, "That's already twenty-four points, Wade, and I now declare a
quartorze
."

  "Good," the elder gentleman replied, holding three kings, all but the spade, and no aces. "I see I am surely buggered with Your Grace holding a seven-card straight and all the bloody aces."

  "Buggered indeed, Wade. I've thirty-eight points, and the repiqu
e
makes another sixty. Ninety-eight points thus far before taking a single trick. Do you care to play out the hand, or shall I be merciful?"

  "'Twould be purely an exercise in futility for me to continue. I forfeit to your superior hand, Your Grace." Field Marshal Wade threw down his cards in disgust.

  "Allowing your two points, I've one hundred four for the final
partie
. Damme, but 'twas a good hand!" Cumberland gloated joyfully as he made the final tabulation. "I win the game by three hundred forty-two points."

  "At ten pounds per point, Your Grace, 'tis over five thousand pounds you have won from me this evening. I must concede the field to you." Sitting back and signaling the lackey for more wine, the field marshal scribbled his vowel and handed it to the duke.

  Cumberland received it with a smile, remarking, "I fear I might encounter difficulty finding another partner this evening."

  "Do you seek another game, Your Grace?" a voice inquired from behind.

  "Drake and Winthrop, isn't it?" His Grace of Cumberland eyed the two officers.

  "I am flattered you remember." Philip's bow was deferential, and Winthrop responded in kind.

  "I endeavor to know my officers, particularly those showing the most promise. Do you play piquet, Drake? I warn you, I've had the devil's own luck this evening." The duke smiled.

  "Then it would be a shame not to play it out."

  The duke nodded to the vacant seat. "Field Marshal Wade and I have played for ten pounds per point." He waited expectantly.

  The major cast a pointed look at Field Marshal Wade's I.O.U. "Might I propose other stakes, Your Grace?"

Devington." The major entered the chamber and nodded his solemn greeting.

  "So it is you, Winthrop. I surmise that you have completed the transactions I requested?"

  "Aye. It is done."

  "How much… or mayhap I should ask, how little have my meager belongings brought?"

  "The returns are far from meager. I have an offer of five hundred pounds."

  "The devil, you say! Five hundred for what? My share in the mare was worth only twenty, mayhap thirty pounds, and Mars with my equipage might bring another hundred at most. I asked only for the fair sale of the horses and my accoutrements, Winthrop. As my worth could not possibly exceed one hundred fifty pounds, how could you come by five hundred?"

  "You underestimate the stallion. He brings a handsome price," Winthrop dissembled.

  "Nigh on five hundred pounds? Unlikely. Though I do not doubt his worth, he is an unknown, and as such would never merit such a price. I care neither for charity nor deceit, my friend."

  "What does it matter from whence it comes, when you have dire need of money?"

  "What great need should I have of money? Do you expect I wish to carry it to my grave?"

  "Devington, are you not aware that your sentence has been amended?"

  "What do you say?" he asked incredulously. "How can this be? I had a death sentence upon my head! Do you mean to say I am exonerated?"

  "I fear you misapprehend. While you are not exonerated, you are not to pay with your life, but are instead to be transported."

  "Transported? How has this come about?"

  "You were the fortunate recipient of a debt of honor, but please don't ask me to explain."

  "So, I am now to face banishment in the company of thieves, rapists, sodomites, and murderers?"

  "Contrary to popular belief, I scarce take to the notion that the American colonies are comprised
solely
of convicts and savages. Transportation is surely more desirable than swinging on the gallows. You will be free to start a new life."

  "A new life, you say? Do you expect my eternal gratitude? I am sorry to disappoint you. I find it difficult to generate any enthusiasm when I have bungled the first so remarkably." Robert laughed bitterly. "There is nothing left of my life, Winthrop. I am maimed, dishonored, forced to leave my country and the woman I love. What is left for me?"

  "With enough money, you can easily start anew."

  "The money again," he remarked caustically. "I wish to know who has offered such an exorbitant sum for the stallion." He asked the question with growing suspicion of the answer.

  "What does it matter?" Winthrop replied. "Five hundred pounds is a handsome sum, regardless of whence it came."

  "'Twas Drake, wasn't it? Damn you, Winthrop! I told you I want nothing from him. I asked you to sell my belongings so I could assure Charlotte a modicum of comfort. When we spoke yesterday, you gave me your oath that Drake should play no further part. I did not ask for his appeal on my behalf, and I bloody well don't want a farthing of that blackguard's money!"

  "I implore you to see reason. You are about to spend your next two months on a crowded ship. Without money, you will be forced to remain below decks with vermin and disease. A full fifth of
those
passengers won't even survive the crossing. Moreover, the rest will be sold into servitude to pay the cost of their passage." The major directed a pointed look to Robert's maimed arm. "The ailing and… injured often die waiting for someone to buy their contracts. With money, you could avoid their fate. Your life is spared, Devington. Is your damnable pride worth taking such a risk?"

  "It is if accepting his money allows Drake to buy a clear conscience. Let the bastard live with his guilt! The stallion is no longer for sale."

  "What?"

  "You heard me, Winthrop. Mars is not to be sold. I take him with me."

  "Have you lost your bloody mind? You barely have the cost of your own passage and will be destitute when you arrive. If the sale to Drake so offends you, I shall buy the horse."

  "My mind is made up. I take Mars with me."

  "You are surely mad!"

  "No, I'm condemned, but if I am to begin anew, it shall be on my terms."

  "Listen to reason, Devington."

  "You know I intended the money for Charlotte."

  "With her dowry, Drake has made provision for her. She has no need of your money. If you accept it, a new life is yours, and who knows if in time an annulment might be arranged…"

  "Enough! That dream is rent from my heart. For Charlotte's sake, it is best she believe me dead. I have already caused her a lifetime of heartache. I would not have her grieve one more day, let alone waste seven years of her life waiting for something that will never be. Once I depart English shores, Robert Devington is dead."

  "Then accept my assurance that the girl shall never be told otherwise."

After receiving the sentence sealed by Commander in Chief Field Marshal Wade, little remained but to relieve the captain of his uniform. Stripped in both the literal and figurative sense, it was as if he had shed his life. Was it only two years ago he had found his identity, his very purpose, as a trooper in the King's Horse? Now it was all swept away. He was lost at sea before having boarded the ship.

  "'Tis all arranged as you instructed," Winthrop said. "I still wish you would reconsider the wisdom of your actions."

  "You have been a good friend, and I appreciate your concern, but 'tis not a matter of wisdom but of honor. Whatever my fate, I will never again allow another to steer my destiny. I intend to live the remainder of my life, however long it is, on my own terms."

  Winthrop sighed with resignation. Devington might have arrived in the colonies with a fat purse, enough to start a new and comfortable life. Instead, his obstinate pride left him with a mere pittance. His net worth after selling his accoutrements and purchasing a new suit of clothes was barely forty pounds. The sum might have given him a cushion had he not insisted on transporting the stallion, whose passage and forage ate up another twenty pounds.

  If he purchased a cabin on the ship, he would have almost nothing remaining, but if he took his chances below decks, he would likely not survive the journey at all. Winthrop shuddered at the thought, but with his advice unheeded, he could do naught more but wish his friend Godspeed.

  Reunited with Mars, Robert and his escort, Trooper Wiggins, set off for Bristol. Although Robert had overcome the worst of his infection and fever, he was still weak and his arm in the early stages of healing. He was thankful for the small grace that his status as a former officer allowed him to travel without the added hindrance of bonds or shackles. Nevertheless, what he would have once easily endured proved an arduous one hundred twenty miles.

  Arriving in Bristol drained of strength, Robert was gratified to hear of the ship's delay, which allowed him a couple of days to rest and recover. Although he had little money to spare, he and his escort took a room at the John Bull Tavern to await the arrival of the merchant ship contracted to carry felons across the Atlantic to the American colonies.

  Once settled, Devington and Wiggins entered the taproom crowded with merchants and prospective passengers. They took a table near a soberly dressed middle-aged man and his young companion, presumably his son. Seated in close proximity, they could not help overhear the conversation as the stern-faced gentleman lectured the young man.

  "Thy father shall be exceedingly displeased, Master Lee."

  "If you could only have seen the horses, Mr. Hanbury! We have none such in Virginia, though the countryside is overrun with the beasts. We have none to compare with this English breed. I have never seen the like!

  "The most inferior of the lot was a full hand taller our horses, and I was astounded by their bottom. They raced miles, Mr. Hanbury, four miles and three heats, to be precise. Would that I owned such a horse! With such a prize in the family stables, we would be the envy of the county."

  "Vanity, Master Lee, is a sin equal to wagering. Surely, I shalt not settle such a debt, and I must believe thy return home both a judicious and timely event. Elsewise, thy father might grow to regret your half-dozen years spent in England."

  "But 'twas only a horse race! Nothing to compare to the vice of playing at dice or cards, and 'tis only ten pounds, a trifling sum that is easily covered tenfold when the ship arrives."

  "Surely thou art not suggesting the payment of a gambling debt from thy father's tobacco stores?"

  "Why should I not? I must settle the debt before my departure, and I see no reason to trouble my father on this score. Indeed, he need never know of it."