To Tempt the Devil Pt. 01

“I told you not to come back,” he said imperturbably.

“And I told you that you had no right to tell me what to do! You hold absolutely no power over me, my lord.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he drawled, raising one imperious brow at her. He did mind that he was infuriating her - rather, it was quite amusing. He did not pause at that moment to question his own motives - why he was so intent on forcing her to stay away. He only knew that she did not belong here - that the world of gaming hells was not her world. Thus far, he had never seen her in any risque establisment other than Vadistes - it was only to be assumed, then, that she was part of the ton. With a considerable amount of satisfaction, he folded his arms, leaned against the door, and regarded her calmly.

Faith, on the other hand, wanted to scream with frustration. She reminded herself, severely, that ladies of consequence did not stand in the street and scream. She settled instead for biting words, vainly hoping she would be enough for him to let her pass. “Now that you’ve shoved me out into the cold what do you expect me to do? Walk home by myself?”

“Oh, is it cold?” he inquired with an air of surprise. “I hadn’t realised. I suppose you’ll have to bear it though - such, after all, are the consequences of disobedience.”

She stared at him in fascination. “You do enjoy being beastly, don’t you?”

He straightened one impeccable cuff, glancing up at her from under lowered lashes. “I find it tolerably amusing. And no, I don’t expect you to walk home by yourself. If a hack does not come around in the next, say, five minutes, I intend to escort you home myself.”

“And if I do not come?”

“What are your choices? You aren’t going to go back in there. Will you stay here all night?”

“How do you intend to stop me?”

“I shall simply stand here all night, until you decide to leave.”

Faith thought wildly for a moment. She could not do as he said and simply go home. Apart from such an act being completely against her principles - there was not a chance in hell that she would let such an arrogant scoundrel dictate to her in such a way - Sylvester was still in there, and under the impression that she was, too. She could not leave without telling him. But how to do that, without risking her identity as well?

She grasped at any straws she could reach. “What about other guests? What if they wish to enter? You will have to step aside then.”

“Yes, my dear,” Vardon said patiently. “But I will only do so long enough for whoever it is to enter. Afterwards I shall step back again. And if you should happen to sneak inside for some reason, allow me to assure you that I will simply drag you back out again.”

At a loss for words, she floundered, then settled for the first thing that came to her head. “You are despicable,” she spat. “I cannot believe you would have me stand here for the entire night in the cold.”

He shrugged out of his own coat and threw it to her. Instinctively, she caught it. It was still warm with his body heat. “Put it on,” Vardon advised. “Unless you wish to stand there all night in the cold?”

Reluctantly, she put it on and was immediately warmer for it. Sulkily, she glowered up at him for a moment longer then turned her back on him and sat down on the steps, some way beneath his feet.

To her offence he laughed and came down the steps to sit beside her. “You are much too stubborn for your own good m’dear,” he chided. “You will end up drowned in a lake one day for it.”

“I expect you’ll be the one to do the drowning,” Faith retorted bitterly.

“Ah, don’t pout. Its not very grown up. I assume you do want to appear grown up?”

She sent him a look of outrage, at a loss as to how to reply to such a blatant insult. She settled in the end for lofty silence. Somehow the silence didn’t seem very lofty.

“Faith,” Vardon said, musingly. “I don’t suppose you also have a number of sisters named Hope, Charity, and Patience?”

She struggled to keep her lips from curving but he caught the twitch at the corner of her mouth nontheless. “No. I was the only daughter.”

“Any other siblings, then?”

“Only my brother.”

“He is older than you?”

“Yes, he’s 23.”

“Aha!” Vardon exclaimed triumphantly. At her bemused look, he explained. “I know definitely now that you cannot be over twenty three.”

“Oh pah,” Faith said with a roll of her eyes. “That leaves you a range of about seven ages to choose from. It is a rather diverse range, my lord.”

“True,” he admitted. “You could be sixteen or twenty two. I would say, however, that you are a great deal more likely to be sixteen.”

She laughed it off, but inwardly cringed. He had come much too close to target. Much of her plan, she had realised after thinking about a number of the comments that he had made, depended on him thinking her at least a little older than she was. She was not certain that even the baddest of men would have a taste for schoolroom chits, and while she had graduated slightly from that, she was still very close to it. Besides, to judge from his comments, he seemed to prefer sophistocated women. She would just have to overcome that barrier somehow - it was not as if she expected him to bed her - a compromise could be achieved with a great deal less than that. Certainly, in more or less every story that she had heard, it had taken no more than for the lady and gentleman in question to have been seen together unchaperoned for longer 5 minutes. No, that should not be a problem at all.

This, now. This was a problem.

“Why won’t you let me go back into Vadistes?” Faith asked suddenly, after a lapse in their conversation had ensued for some time.

“It is no place for you,” he had answered simply. “I have told you already.”

She clenched her teeth. “And I have told you already that where I go is no business of yours. You have no right, whatsoever, to tell me what to do. Why - why, you don’t even know me! You don’t even know my last name?”

“That can be rectified rather quickly, don’t you think?”

“Its Constantinos,” she answered loftily. “But I’ve already told you - it doesn’t matter that you know it, because we don’t go by that anyway.”

“Yes, I know,” he said with a little sigh. “Why do you want to go back in there so badly anyway? It is surely no place for an innocent.”

“Well,” Faith said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what gambling hell’s were invented for, you see, but I thought I might go in there and gamble a bit. Do you think they’d let me if I asked nicely enough?”

“Ah,” Vardon said with a small smile. “The gambling. You are quite a gamester, aren’t you Lady Faith?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replied coolly. “But I enjoy cards, yes. What has that to do with anything?” But she already knew. Even as he spoke she groaned inwardly. How on earth could he have seen?

“That’s another thing, you see,” he mused. “You seem to be innocent. Yet you are at a gaming hell at the early hours of the morning. Your lack of sophistocation is also quite transparent, and yet you are an accomplished cardsharp. I get the impression, that, given any amount of time, you would cause quite a disturbance, my dear.”

“And so to protect your precious stability you’ve decided to bundle me up and send me away.”

“A quaint way of putting it,” he observed. “But yes, I suppose so.”

“A cowards way out, sir.”

“But no! How can it be? I am sending you away - I am not running away, my self.”

“It amounts to the same time, when I am obviously helpless against you. To pray on the weaker is the act of a bully, my lord.”

“I believe its the act of survival. Survival of the fittest as they say.”

“That,” she informed him tartly, “Is known as procreation. One’s rate of survival in the jungle, I believe, is based upon one’s ability to reproduce. What you are doing is partial extermination. Rather like ridding a house of bugs, if you understand me, but rather than ridding them well and truly you have simply decided to pick them up and deposit them somewhere else.”

“I find it intriguing that you liken yourself to bugs, my dear.”

“I do not liken myself to bugs,” she explained in exasperation. “I liken the threat that I pose, apparently, to your little world. You do not like it, therefore, instead of working to perhaps overcome, or coexist with it, you simply send it away to wreak havoc somewhere else. It no longer becomes your problem - someone else can deal with the threat.”

“Are you suggesting my dear,” he said in awed tones, “That I completely exterminate you? What do you suggest? Throwing you in the Thames? Although I suppose that would be avoiding the problem again again...the threat to the fish and all that. I suppose you’d cheat them all out of their seaweed. No...another way...”

“Fish don’t eat seaweed,” Faith informed him blithely.

“No but I’m sure they use it as currency,” Vardon replied. “Poisoning, perhaps? Yes, my dear. I believe I shall poison you.”

His last words were spoken just in time for James Brantson, Lord Erwick to step out the door and hear. “Good god Vardon,” Brantson exclaimed. “You’ve taken to threatening little girls now?”

“I am certainly not little!” Faith rose and turned to face Brantson indignantly.

“Yes, James,” Vardon said obligingly. “I have it on good authority that she is anywhere between the ages of 16 and 23. Quite an old maid, you see.”

“Oh, Lady Faith,” James said, looking rather taken aback. “I do apologise. I didn’t recognise you out there. I take it back. You aren’t little. You just look little, when you’re sitting down.”

Unsure whether to take that as an apology or another insult Faith merely smiled faintly. A thought struck her, a chance at escape, and she seized it eagerly.

“Lord Erwick,” she said demurely. “I’m not feeling at all well. Its the cold, you see. I fear I’m taking on a fit of the vapours. Would you lend me your arm for a few moments? I would like to go inside now.”

“Certainly, my lady,” James said without hesitation, helping her up the steps and through the door before Vardon could so much as say a word.

The moment they reached the cloakroom, however, Faith abruptly released his arm, saying brightly with a commendable show of surprise, “Oh my. I do believe I’m feeling much better. Thank you ever so much, Lord Erwick. I don’t know how I could have managed those steps without you.” Flashing him a brilliant smile, she grabbed her cloak and took off down the hallway to find Sylvester before Lord Vardon could catch up with her.

* * *

James was still staring after her when Vardon finally caught up to him, looking extremely irritated and put out. “Remarkable chit,” he said absently. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a lady who thanked me for helping her up a flight of stairs and then took off running, before. Who do you suppose she is, Silverstone?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Vardon grunted, wishing he could throttle his friend.

“How old do you think she is?”

Vardon shrugged. “Sixteen.”

“No, she’s too accomplished a coquette for that. I’d say 19 or 20. Do you suppose she’s demimonde or respectable?”

“Don’t care.”

James eyed him with amusement. “You seem to be rather out of spirits tonight, Silverstone. I heard tell you walked out on a game of cards the moment you spotted our lady friend here. And then there was that whole poison business. You weren’t serious, were you?”

“Yes,” Vardon said implacably.

James stared at him in horror. “Good god man. You can’t be serious!”

Silverstone grinned. “No,” he said. “But its always pleasant to know what you believe me capable of, Erwick.”

James smiled. “Of course, Vardon. Anytime you need your worst fears confirmed, just come to me. I’ll tell you what a lout you are.”

“Thank you,” Vardon said ironically. “I was unaware up to now that my greatest fear was being a lout. But now that you have informed me of the fact, I know that I may forever rest easy. Thank you, James. You have vastly improved my life.”

“I seem to be forever doing that,” James observed sadly. “I wonder if it isn’t my life to improve yours.”

“Rest assured,” Vardon said comfortingly. “If it is, you won’t ever lack for something to do. My life can always be improved on.”

“No, no,” Erwick protested. “I disagree. Your life really can’t be improved upon much more than it already is. Now, if we were talking about you, personally...”

“But we aren’t,” Vardon said grimly. “For which I shall forever be grateful. Now, if you will excuse me...”

“Off to chase your ladybird?”

To his credit, Vardon did look horrified, James thought musingly. He wondered if with some practice he could trigger that look more often.

“Good lord, no.”

James seized on this with alacrity. “Not to your taste? An innocent then? And haute ton, to boot?”

“She’s a cardsharp,” Vardon informed him flatly.

“Ah,” James smiled with satisfaction. “Demimonde. But new to the business, no doubt. I shall enjoy teaching her a great deal.” He started towards the main salon.

“James.” Vardon’s voice reached him as he was halfway down the corridor. He stopped and turned. “Yes?”

“Leave the chit alone.”

“Why? You said yourself, you weren’t interested. Does that not make her fair game for the rest of us? Besides - ‘tis not as though she were an innocent. No innocent would do what she has.”

“Nevertheless...” he let the word trail.

James pressed his lips tightly together. He thought for a moment, then nodded, jerkily. “Fine. I will leave her. But I cannot speak for the others.”

“I will deal with the others,” Vardon said softly.

“God knows why I put up with you,” James muttered as he stalked off.

“Because you are a fool?” Vardon called after him.

James stopped. He turned his head, asking over his shoulder. “Are you insulting me, Silverstone?”

Vardon thought for a moment. “It was not my intention to do such,” she said contemplatively. “But by all means, call me out.” His gaze locked with his friend’s. “Just remember, Erwick, that I am not like you. Once I am issued a challenge, I never apologise.”

James shook his head. “No,” he said tiredly. “No, you don’t.” He continued on his way.

Chapter Four: In Which a Series of Visits are Conducted

“I really don’t know why you must insist on all this secrecy,” Sylvester grumbled as he slid into the carriage. They had just barely escaped Vadistes without alerting Lord Vardon, and were both still breathing hard. Sylvester, in all his years and in various bad nightmares had pictured fleeing gaming hells in the dead of the night for various reasons, but never had he imagined doing it because his little sister had insisted he do so in order to avoid one of her rather overly attentive suitors. He did not imagine that the man she had told him about was anything other than that, but it never hurt not to take an unnecessary chance. They had both grown up with that rule - and now was no time to break the habit. After escaping from Vardon, Faith had been unable to find Sylvester, and had thus had to hide in the cloakroom for a while, until she judged it safe to search for her brother again. She was more successful the second time, but upon enquiry learnt that Sylvester was engaged in a rather important card game. She had retreated to the cloak room once again, and had only ventured out again when she realised that the card game would probably have finished by then.

“I told you already,” Faith said impatiently. “I don’t want anyone to recognise me at this stage. If someone does, I can always have you as my security, so no one can talk about my not being chaperoned, but it is better if people simply do not know who I am. We avoid gossip more easily that way.” And gossip at this stage, she thought, would destroy everything. Faith had realised, quite suddenly, that her position as Sylvester’s sister and a duke’s daughter as well as a countess, viscountess, and baronet would make her rather unappealing to ruin, unless Lord Vardon happened to be a fortune hunter, which she was quite certain that he was not. It had occured to her that Sylvester might very well do something stupid like call him out - and then either one or the other would probably die. It was not a pleasant thought, and one she would have to consider carefully. She could always hope that Sylvester would be reasonable and realise that the entire thing was her fault...no, better yet, she would tell him. Once the deed was done, there would be nothing he could do to stop her, and she would also take also responsibility upon herself. Satisfied with her solution, she sat back.

“Yes, I know,” Sylvester was saying. “I still find it ridiculous that I have to wait until you enter before I do

“Did you win much tonight?”

“Ten thousand,” he answered casually. “I played your friend Silverstone in Piquet.”

She laughed with exhilaration. “What were the stakes?”

He smiled. That was always her first question. “100 pounds a point.”

“I take it you took the Rubicon?”

“Oh, yes. I also won some other smaller amounts off some others. Not worth much, though. The bulk of my winnings came from your fiance’s pocket, m’dear.”

“Ah,” she said with a grin. “The important card game that I was told about.”

“Yes, that one. He’s a dab hand at cards, your Silverstone. If it weren’t for the fact that my cards were marked I’m quite certain we would have tied. He, of course, played perfectly straight. If I didn’t know better I’d think he had honour.”

Faith stared at him, agape. “You played marked cards?”

“No,” Sebastian replied, laughing. “I just wanted to see if you noticed I’d said that. You seem rather out of sorts, Fayfee. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, and sighed. “I didn’t see Silverstone tonight either.”

“Hmm. Never mind. There’s always next time.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

They spent the rest of the ride home in thoughtful silence.

* * *

The next morning was filled with visits from callers. Both Sylvester and Faith were, therefore, engaged for the better part of the morning. It was not until late-afternoon that Faith had any time to herself, and even then Sylvester waylaid her plans by inviting her for a drive around the park. She could not see that harm - those she associated with in the gaming hells did not usually go for drives around the park - tame was not a word that they would understood. She would not push her luck though. Informing Sylvester strictly that he had to take her back after 20 minutes, she donned her ugliest gown, pulled her hair into a severe bun on top of her head, and put on a pair of horn rimmed spectacles that made her positively blind. Those who did comment on her appearance would no doubt do it behind her back - that did not faze her. Her main priority was not running the risk of being recognised from those from Vadistes.

“Good god!” Sylvester exclaimed the moment he saw her. “What the devil are you doing, Faith?”

“I’m going for a drive around the park with you,” Faith said blithely. “Did you not ask me to?”

“Well, yes, I did. But what on earth have you done to yourself?”

“I?” she looked down at herself in surprise. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sylvester said impatiently. “What the devil are you doing with those spectacles? You don’t need them.”

“I have recently developed an odd affliction - my eyesight is affected when I venture outdoors.”

“You didn’t have them on last night, or yesterday morning.”

“It is only very recent. And it occurs only in the morning.”

Bemused, Sylvester raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you up to, sister dear?”

“Up to?” Faith said innocently. “I’m not up to anything. Why would I be up to anything? Now, are we going to go on that drive or will you stand here and squabble with me over my spectacles for the whole day?”

“I admit that the latter is tempting,” Sylvester murmured as he swung her up onto the phaeton and vaulted in himself. “But I will have to pass and we shall merely go for a drive in the park.”