Page 33 of Cora
“I want a boon. The same as you claimed for yourself.”
“Except that I am unlikely to win, as you rudely pointed out.”
It quickly became clear that Cora was genuinely new to the game. She scratched trying to break the clustered balls. He let her have a second go. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, and it also gave him a second opportunity to watch her bend over the table with that focused expression he found so fascinating.
Her long fingers adapted quickly to holding the stick. Good for piano playing, if she would ever deign to accept his admittedly half-hearted apology for ruining her. He didn’t regret having done it in the slightest. Watching how she picked up the basics of the game like a natural made him realize that it wouldn’t take much for her to regain her long-neglected skill at playing the piano.
Cora snapped the white ball straight into the point of the triangle. Striped and solid balls careened across the green baize.
“Nice shot.”
She straightened, pleased with herself. Still wary of him, however, judging from the way she sauntered to the opposite corner of the table.
“Don’t I get another turn?” she asked when he bent at a slight angle, aiming for the easiest shot.
“No. You didn’t sink a ball. That is the job, Cora. Like…this.” Gideon tapped the red solid into a pocket. “Now I go again.”
Blue followed its brethren into the same pocket.
“Again.”
Yellow.
“Again?” Cora demanded, her annoyance plain.
“Yes, until I scratch.”
Green and orange both dropped into pockets before the purple ball bounced off a rim, just missing his target.
Cora cast him a fulminating glare.
“Now that I finally have a turn…”
She shifted and aimed. Then rethought her position and moved to another ball, before deciding that one was too difficult and choosing a third option.
She scratched on her first attempt, the top of her cue stick gliding over the white billiard. “Damn,” she swore under her breath.
Ladies weren’t supposed to use such language, yet the word slipped out as naturally as if she were accustomed to swearing when frustrated.
Had he married her during her debut season the way he wanted to, Gideon would have ensured she never had a reason or opportunity to learn curse words. He’d have kept her in a cage so gilded it would have blinded her to the harsher realities of life.
Instead, he’d left his little songbird to fly free, and somewhere along the line, she’d learned to deal with hawks like him. He hadn’t expected that. Her resentment, yes. He’d earned that, fair and square. But part of him was frankly astonished that she could walk into a brothel, have a civil and frank conversation about their business, and come away without her composure ruffled.
“My turn,” he snapped, eyeing the unfavorable placement of the remaining balls. “When I win, darling, I want you to answer a question truthfully.”
Her lips flattened slightly, but she tossed her hair back. “Depends upon the question.”
Gideon sank the brown, leaving the purple ball that had eluded him earlier remaining. It was perched on the lip next to the black 8 ball. A risky move, but he was a man who took calculated risks when he was sure it would benefit him. He aimed carefully, conscious of Cora’s gaze upon him, and took his shot.
“Blast,” he muttered as the black ball tipped into the pocket while the purple went spinning giddily across the table.
“Even I know that means you’ve lost,” Cora crowed. “You owe me an answer.”
Minx. He liked her this way. Cocky and unrepentant.
She crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the delectable mounds together. He swallowed. He liked the way he could look her in the eye without crouching or bending down.
“I was at the House of Virtue because I needed the countess’ signature on a document.” He cleared his throat. She tipped her chin, apparently unsatisfied with his answer. “For the bank. They were business partners. Your brother still holds the loan to her property, but she owns a share of the bank. The problem is that she has disappeared. I cannot complete the acquisition without her signature.”
