Page 29 of A Tenuous Betrothal
Marc should be pleased about such a quick turn of events, that the man was not daft enough to miss this opportunity with Miss Davies. But the twisting and clenching in his gut didn’t feel at all pleasant.
Chapter Eleven
Rhianna played whist with onlyhalf a mind on her cards. Thankfully, Lord Carmine was an excellent whist player and carried them to victory time after time. Their table was quite raucous, and soon the others in the room had finished and gathered around to see the last trick to be played. Prince Marc looked only too pleased to leave his current company of older ladies hungry for a bit of gossip to share. His face was flushed, and he acted as though his cravat was suddenly too tight.
Lord Carmine exulted in the attention. He leaned back with a mischievous grin. “The lovely Miss Davies has brought us to victory up to now. Let us see if we can keep it going one more time.”
The prince came to stand behind her, and his closeness clouded out all other thought. The very idea that his hands rested on the back of her chair, not quite touching her, that if she leaned back in the chair, she would brush against them, took over all else. Did she want his hands on her shoulders like she’d sometimes seen her father do when her mother was seated in front of him? The answer to that question scared her. She shooed it away like the pest to her peace that it was, but with every shift of her skirts, every movement she made as she played her cards, she knew she could fall back against him.
And then his finger lifted and touched the fabric of her dress. She stilled. She was about to pull a card, not even thinking, but the finger pushed forward again, this time with more attention. She hid her smile. She touched another card as though meaning to play it, and his finger slid horizontally, sending a storm of gooseflesh across her skin. She lifted it and played it.
“Oh, well done, Miss Davies.” Lord Carmine grinned and took the set.
She leaned back for the briefest moment into the prince’s hands. She meant it as a thank-you, but the feel of his fingers, all of them, against the upper skin of her back heated her through, felt branded into her even after she was again leaning forward. Tingles showered from her skin to her core. What was this feeling? And what did it mean? She could not, surely not, become enamored with the prince. All the reasons not to feel things at the prince’s touch raced through her mind, but to no avail, for she also hoped for another excuse to lean back ever so slightly and feel the brush of his hand on her skin.
Trick after trick, Lord Carmine won, until they were staring at one another with the last cards in hand, he with a victorious grin and she with a completely blank face, knowing they would lose.
“It has been immensely entertaining playing with you.” His grin only grew, and she knew, with growing dread, that he was digging himself into a somewhat embarrassing hole.
“I do know it might feel somewhat deflating for our opponents to lose so thoroughly. It is quite rare for a team to win every single trick. This has happened to me on only a couple of occasions.” He winked at Rhi. “And it is proof that my partner and I are a good match.”
She sucked in a breath and could sense the prince stiffening behind her.
“At whist.” Lord Carmine’s cheeks colored a bit.
Ah, so the soon-to-be duke was not so bent on marriage that he would make such a blatant statement on purpose. At least he had that to his credit. If that were something to value.
She half-closed her eyes, glancing down at her cards. Hopefully, he might take heed and stop gloating over a win they were sure not to have.
He placed his card. It would not win. She knew it. Lord Grenville, at her right, sat up straighter and placed his king.
Those who had come to watch cheered and exclaimed in surprise.
How had the whole room not noticed that the king was still to be played?
Lord Carmine turned eyes to her, but she had nothing to offer. She laid down a card of another suit, inconsequential at best. The same happened from the duchess at Rhi’s left.
Everyone cheered as Lord Grenville pulled the cards toward himself. Rhi laughed. “Well done! Stopping a sweeping victory of every trick has got to count for a win indeed.”
“I must admit I feel as though you are correct.” His flush of victory and rather large smile, at least, were endearing to Rhi after the man’s boasting at dinner.
Lord Carmine had still not lifted his eyes from the table. The silence was a bit unnerving, but perhaps he just needed a moment.
“I thought you had the king.” His eyes at last lifted, and the accusatory glare sent a shudder through her.
“Well, I...”
“She didn’t.” Prince Marc leaned over her. She could almost feel his simmering strength. “And, lucky for us all, whist is a relaxing game of mostly chance.” He stepped around Rhi and held out his arm to her. “Are you ready for that turn about the room? Perhaps a bit of air?” His eyes were large, sincere, and in some ways demanding. But she could only be grateful because she did long for a turn about the room and some air away from the disapproval of Lord Carmine. Not because she cowed beneath his gaze but because she worried over what she might say in retaliation.
As soon as they were out of earshot, she fumed. “Who cares that much about winning every trick? We won. Is that not good enough?”
Prince Marc chuckled.
“What?”
“I feel you care almost as much as he does.”
She huffed and inwardly admitted he was right. “Why did he play it the way he did? Why did he assume I had the king? Didn’t he see the trick where I would have laid the king if I’d had it?” She spoke in hushed tones, but it was not coming out as genteel-sounding or as quiet as might have been appropriate for a smallish room of guests. People were noticing.
