Page 5 of A Duke Makes a Deal
He gritted his teeth as he made his way to the library, where the card game was being held. It grated him to know that once upon a time, he hadn’t cared a bit what everyone believed of him. He wished he still felt that way, but an awful, paralyzing feeling had slowly crept into his bones since his divorce. Silashad become accustomed to a crippling, debilitating sensation that suffocated him every time he tried to leave the house. Thankfully, it hadn’t hindered him from venturing to his gentlemen’s club, White’s, but he often kept his head down and hardly spoke to anyone when he was there.
This infernal handicap was more than embarrassing. It was devastating. His doctor hadn’t been able to help. He had likened Silas’s feeling to panophobia, a discovery by French physician Boissier de Sauvages, but it wasn’t brought on by darkness. Terror only seemed to encroach on him when he was in large groups.
Like tonight.
But Trembley had found a way to work past Silas’s crushing issue. The earl was notorious throughout the ton for holding not-so-secret card games, where any and all bets were viable if everyone agreed. Though Silas always played with money, he had taken a horse and, in one instance, a trunk full of silk during the games. His mother and younger sister Violet had profited the most from that wager as he had sent the fabric directly to their modiste.
When he reached the private library, he felt his jagged breathing even out. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as the ballroom. And thankfully, none of the gentlemen here seemed to notice his discomposure at all. They were utterly focused on what they hoped to win. As Silas moved between the tables, he found a small card with his name. Reading the placement card to the left, he saw Lord Fishbourne sitting next to him. Silas was pleased enough with that. Fishbourne was a direct, quiet man. He moved around the table, reading the names on the cards. As he reached the opposite side of the table, he frowned.
He was in no mood to be seated across the pharos table from Hubert Jenkins, Viscount Dilworth. The man was widely recognized as one of the worst gambling addicts in all of London,typically spending much of his yearly income within the first few months of the year. The young man had shifting eyes and though he appeared far more confident than the last time Silas had seen him, Silas understood what addiction looked like. It wouldn’t matter if the viscount won every hand all night. He would eventually lose, as did everyone who had no control over their compulsion to gamble.
Silas scanned the room and saw Derek, the Earl of Trembley, conversing with his brothers. While Trembley was Silas’s oldest friend, he knew that he took his gaming tables seriously and Silas being paired with the viscount was just bad luck. But he needed to try. It was Derek’s first time hosting a ball since the family came out of mourning, and he had specifically requested that Silas attend. The inheritance of Derek’s title had been a bitter experience, as all the Trembley brothers had been quite devoted to their father and had believed he was in fine health.
Moving around the tables, Silas made his way toward the brothers. All three were tall, with broad shoulders, but that was where their similarities ended. Derek’s reddish-brown hair and dark eyes set him apart from his younger siblings. He was quick with a smile to those he was acquainted with and was grinning widely as Silas approached.
“Combe,” he said, patting the duke on the shoulder in a friendly, familiar gesture. “I’m happy you came.”
“Yes, it’s nice to see you out at an actual ball as opposed to some dark corner of White’s,” Trembley’s middle brother, Fredrick, said with a grin that matched his brother’s.
“Yes, well, here I am,” Silas said.
“Excuse me. I think I see someone,” the youngest brother, Alfred, said before skirting away.
Silas watched him leave before turning back to Derek.
“I’m assuming it was his doing that I’m seated with Dilworth?” Silas said, becoming annoyed at how visibly amused the other Trembley brothers were.
“Come now,” Fredrick said. “Dilworth’s not that bad. I heard him telling Lord Bromley that it isn’t gambling if it’s a sure thing.”
Fredrick winked, and Derek chuckled at the foolhardy statement.
“Bloody idiot,” Silas said under his breath. “What was Alfred thinking?”
“He didn’t do it on purpose, Combe. It was the luck of the draw,” Derek said. “Besides, Dilworth won’t be able to play long. He doesn’t have the copper.”
“Which makes me curious as to why he was invited at all,” Silas replied.
“Ah, that was my fault,” Fredrick admitted. “I had overheard him talking to Lord Hampton at the races. He told the old codger that he was good for something because he was set to marry an heiress.”
“How fortunate for Dilworth,” Silas said. “And how miserable for his fiancée.”
“Come now. Just because your marriage didn’t turn out well doesn’t mean the institution is without merit.”
Silas made an expression of disgust.
“Spoken by someone who was never married.”
“Well, that’s true, but I’m not against it. It is the way of the world, as you know.” He paused then, and a flicker in Derek’s gaze to his brother told Silas they were being cautious around him.
He sighed, trying to beat down the growing feeling of agitation. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. He wasn’t ready. But all the same, he couldn’t ignore the request of a friend.
Silas turned back to Fredrick, eager to distract himself from his thoughts.
“Did you say Dilworth was set to marry an heiress?” he asked. “What foolhardy family would tie themselves to Dilworth?”
“New money,” Fredrick said. “Some inventor. Woodvine, I believe, is the name.”
Silas had heard the name before. He had been wrapped up in a three-way investing situation with a business associate some years ago. He had been allowed to invest and had very nearly committed himself before he changed his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in the product. A chaff cutter was an important invention for the agricultural community, particularly horses. It cut hay into smaller pieces to be mixed with forage, leading to healthier and better animals. But he had been unsure when he was new to making investments. He had come to regret it. The Woodvine investment had returned five-fold for its investors. Silas had learned the lesson that if he believed in a product, he should put his weight behind it.
