tossed it at a servant.
“Oliver!” Jonathan called out as he struggled to his feet.
“I don’t like to lose,” Oliver replied, striding toward the private dressing room to change back into his clothes.
He knew Diane’s plans now. She’d already managed to pull him into her plot, and as long as she had that letter he hadn’t much hope of escaping unless she allowed him to do so. And if he knew anything, he knew how very unlikely that was. Therefore, he needed to discover every detail, rule, and flaw of her game. Because not only did he dislike losing, but he also had no intention of doing so.
Once he finished dressing he went to find Manderlin again. “Are you free for dinner?”
“That depends. Are you going to gloat?”
“No. And I’m buying.”
“Then we’re going to White’s.”
Forty minutes later a footman seated them on one side of White’s large dining room. Oliver spent several minutes doing something unusual for him—observing not the diners but the actual lay of the room. The number of tables, servers, the distance from the kitchen, the easily available liquor, and the enticing view into the closest of the gaming rooms.
The decor itself was overtly … stuffy, pretentious in a way that blatantly appealed to the wealthy and exclusive membership. Christ, there was a five-year waiting list for new member applicants. A prospective member had to have a sponsor, and even that was no guarantee for entry.
“I’m relieved that you’ve kept your word about not gloating,” Jonathan said around a mouthful of roast pheasant, “but some conversation would at least assure me you don’t mean to tip the table over on me or some such.”
“To how many clubs do you belong?” Oliver asked.
“That depends. You aren’t going to blackball me, are you?”
Oliver scowled. “Why are you so convinced I mean to maim you? I’ve never done so before.”
“Because something clearly has your spine in a twist, and I seem to be the handiest surrogate target. I’d ask you what might be troubling you, but I value your friendship. I am therefore sitting here quietly eating this very expensive dinner and waiting to be enlightened. Or for you to begin a fight with me. I’m generally more certain which I’m facing, but you’ve got me a bit on edge tonight.”
“That was long-winded. Why not just say, ‘Out with it’?”
Manderlin gazed at him for a heartbeat. “Out with it, Oliver.”
Oliver took a swallow of wine. “No.”
“Bastard.”
“For the moment, suffice it to say that if I were to confide in anyone, it would be you. I have a few things to decipher in my own mind first.”
With a nod, Jonathan returned to his meal. “Fair enough. And five.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Five clubs. White’s, the Society, The Army, the Tory, and Boodle’s.”
“The Tory? Really?”
“I inherited the membership from my father. I don’t think I’ve been above twice, but the fee’s reasonable.” Jonathan took a breath. “Is this by any chance about Lady Cameron announcing she’s going to open a gaming club?”
Of course word of that would have spread to every corner of Mayfair by now, damned chit. But that was undoubtedly precisely what she’d intended. “If it was about that, what’s your opinion on it?”
“What’s your opinion?”
“I asked first. Don’t be such a coward.”
“Fine. My second thought was that she hasn’t been in Vienna for the past three years—she’s been in Bedlam.”
Oliver nodded. Jonathan was a more … decent man than he was, so the viscount’s opinion was likely that of the majority of Mayfair’s male residents. “But you said that was your second thought. What was your first?”
“That I want to see this club. I mean, she’s a countess who’s pretty enough to net another husband in five minutes. For her to be willing to risk her standing in Society it would have to be extraordinary. I know Cameron was a gambler—a poor one, from all
Learning to Kill: Stories