The crowd loved it.
“Next test?” Miss Rees asked when the noise died down. “And be specific, if you please.”
“A monkey divided among all of us!”
“And five p!”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon looked to the front door. “How many souls in here tonight, Lysander?”
“132 ma’am.”
“Very well,” she said, lifting up Miss Rees’ bag of pound notes, often called a monkey. “500 pounds and 5 pence, divided by 132.”
Lilah frowned, especially as Mr. Palmer began scribbling immediately. But then she scrawled.3.78 to all with 1.04 remaining for Mrs. DL
Smart. And far more than he could do off the top of his head. Unfortunately, Mr. Palmer was equally smart. Both had the same answer except that Mr. Palmer claimed the leftover for himself. And indeed, the Abacas Woman had the same result.
“Another round!” called a loud gentleman, and Aaron did a double take. Was that Reuben Bates? What was he doing here?
“This time the lady drinks,” growled Mr. Palmer.
Reuben Bates stepped into the light. “Wine, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, on me.” He held up a small purse and tossed it to her.
She caught it easily and immediately, wine was served all around, including a large glass to Miss Rees.
“Perhaps some bread as well?” Aaron ventured. It might soak up some of the alcohol, but his suggestion was loudly hooted down.
“Fear not,” Lilah said as she lifted her glass. “I am not so poor a specimen that I cannot drink wine.” So saying she drained her glass, much to the enjoyment of the audience. When she was done, she set it aside and pitched her voice to the crowd. “Perhaps we should finish with the simple questions, eh? How about some algebra or geometry?”
Aaron looked down at her flushed face. “You know algebra and geometry?”
“Lady Gwen and I passed many afternoons making a game of such things.”
Truly? Impressive. And a smart suggestion, given that he very much doubted Mr. Palmer had any understanding of advanced mathematics. Unfortunately, the crowd had very little understanding of it as well. It was no fun for them if they couldn’t at least guess the answer. And since the crowd created the problems, Lilah was left to battle it out in arithmetic.
“How much fer a night upstairs fer each o’ us?”
“Wot’s a year’s pay fer a coachman who don’t know nothing ’bout horses?”
“What’s the pot if seven of us here pay in a quid and one of us falls out each round?”
“What’s the pay out on red seven if I drop a quid?”
Questions flew fast now with Mrs. Dove-Lyon picking the ones she liked. Lilah answered the mathematical ones with relative ease, but the gambling questions were a struggle, much to the delight of the audience. She was hesitant, and she looked to Aaron in panic. Worse, each round was celebrated with wine or ale. He drank what he could for her, but she had to imbibe the wine. And given that he was already feeling unmoored, she had to be thoroughly foxed.
And yet she persevered. Bloody brilliant of her. Then came the dice question.
“What’s the odds of nicking in the first Hazard throw?”
“That’s not mathematics,” she protested, and he winced at the way she slurred her words. “Give me something to add or subtract.”
The crowd roared its disgust. This was a gambling lot and odds-making was their lifeblood. Fortunately, Mrs. Dove-Lyon decided to rule in her favor. “We gave Mr. Palmer his pounds to pence argument. I shall give to Miss Rees this one. And this next question shall be mine.” She grinned as she pointed at one of the nearest gentlemen. “Mr. Wicker, how much money did you win last week?”
“Ten quid, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. At faro.”
“Well done, Mr. Wicker. And what of you, Mr. Lidst?”
“Twelve quid, 17 pence.”