Page 4 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“We arenotgoing home,” Catherine insisted, her face set in a stubborn expression. “This is the only way we might pay off the remainder of your debt. We talked about this for many nights, Oliver. Do not lose courage now!”
Oliver blanched. “If only I had not been tempted into those hells,” he moaned, placing a hand on his forehead. “It was as if a madness had beset me, Cathy. And winning always seemed so close at hand…”
“Oliver, you are hopeless,” Catherine huffed, frowning. “Inheriting the title and all that came with it went to your head faster than elderberry wine, Brother.” She sighed heavily,leaning over and touching his knee lightly. “I will make this better. You must believe me.”
They gazed at each other. Catherine’s heart flipped. Oliver was hopeless, terrible with money, and had buckled underneath the weight of responsibility. But he was still her older brother, and she loved him more than anyone in this world. There was only the two of them now. In some ways, it hadalwaysbeen just the two of them.
The carriage was slowing down. Catherine gazed out the window. She didn’t recognize this street. It was dark and dank, with an unbearable smell. Figures darted through the darkness like furtive rats. Somewhere, she heard the howl of a distressed cat. It was so different from the wide, fashionable streets of London that she knew that she might as well have landed in another world entirely.
She turned to her brother. Her heart was pounding hard now.
“Do you believe me?” she whispered.
Oliver looked pained. “I believe you,” he whispered back. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Cathy. I have never met anyone more fearless.” He hesitated. “Good luck, Sister. I will be waiting for you.”
Catherine took a deep breath, making sure her hair was secure beneath the boy’s cap, before the carriage door opened, and she slipped out into the night.
Catherine eyed the dealer. “Again.”
The tall, burly man shrugged, grinning as he dealt the cards. She took them, glorying in the hand, but made sure that she kept her expression neutral. It wouldn’t do to show her fellow gamblers that she had another winning hand. They might throw down their cards in disgust, and that would not do at all.
Her heart pounded hard as she eyed the notes and piles of coins in the middle of the table. It was hers—she had won all of it, fair and square. It was so much that it would pay off most of what her brother owed.
Walk away now. Do not risk it again. You may lose all of it.
Catherine frowned, trying to push away the small, insistent voice in the back of her head. She was doing so well. She felt as if she were a bird soaring through the sky. She felt invincible.
Just one more time. And then I shall take it and leave…
“Deal me in,” said a deep voice at her shoulder.
Catherine spun around. A man was taking a seat next to her. A tall, muscular man with dark hair wearing a black cloak of the finest quality. He looked at her quickly. She felt a shiver run down her spine as their eyes locked and held. His eyes wereblue… or were they green? A perfect combination of both colors. Like the sea on a cloudy day.
What are you doing, contemplating the color of his eyes? Focus on the game!
Hastily, Catherine looked away, feeling her cheeks turn pink. She was in a gambling hell, not a fashionable ballroom. And she was dressed like a boy, a disguise which amazingly seemed to have worked. At least, the drunken louts she was playing cards with hadn’t glanced twice at her.
What would they think if they knew the Honorable Miss Catherine Audley, sister of the Viscount Whitley, is the one fleecing them instead of the navvy they believe she is?
Catherine suppressed a chuckle.
“Something amusing?” the dark-haired man asked, glancing at her again. “Are you chortling over the fortune you have amassed? Do you want to play me for the same amount that is on the table?”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. “You are wagering that amount again?”
The man grinned. “I am. Are you interested?”
Catherine hesitated. If she lost, then she would lose it all. But if she won… then the debt would be almost paid.
Her heart thudded. Her blood pounded.
Walk away… or stay?
“Absolutely!” she cried, belatedly remembering to lower her voice so she sounded like a boy. She cleared her throat dramatically. “My apologies. I have a cold.”
The man laughed. A deep, sonorous laugh. Catherine felt another shiver run down her spine. He was simply the most handsome man she had ever encountered. Why, oh why, couldn’t she have met him at a ball, rather than a gambling hell where she was dressed like a boy?
The game was quick and chancy. Catherine was so focused that she forgot how handsome he was. And when she thought that she was going to win… well, the jubilation was so intense that she felt as if nothing could touch her.
