“Damn.” Holding up his hands as though he expected the appendages to protect him, Mansfield took one large step backward from the group.
Roxburghe laughed. “Proximity to myself or Grisham won’t prevent you from love.”
“What will?” Mansfield asked, the space between his eyes pinching.
“Death.”
Mansfield swore, his loudening blasphemies drawing Grisham and Warwick—albeit a bit more slowly than Grisham—from the parlor.
Grisham’s brown eyes immediately sought Levi.
“What did Roxburghe do?” Grisham asked, inclining his head toward Roxburghe as he held out a glass of sherry.
“Threatened Mansfield with marriage.” Levi gratefully accepted the offered beverage and swallowed half its contents in one gulp.
“Did you have a difficult time collecting Roxburghe from his fiancée’s house?” Grisham asked when Levi lowered the glass.
Levi gestured toward Roxburghe with the sherry. “He was reluctant to leave.”
“Lies!” Roxburghe’s voice carried across the foyer. “Don’t blame your fear on me.”
“Your fear?” Grisham’s eyes flicked between Roxburghe and Levi. “What is the great Duke of Lennox afraid of?”
“Nothing.” Levi drained his glass.
“His new house guest,” Roxburghe said, winking at Beaufort.
Grisham and Warwick shared a confused, uneasy glance. “There’s no one here but the six of us.”
“And Mr. Philbert.” Roxburghe managed to get the words out before laughter overtook him.
Mansfield strode around them, his intense gaze focused on Levi. “Have you seen his ghost?”
“No.” Levi glowered at Roxburghe.
He hadn’t intended to share this concern with his friends, but since Roxburghe had left him no option, perhaps he could put their intellectual prowess to use.
“But,” Levi said, stopping Mansfield before he turned away, “I have heard things.”
“Tell me.” Delight glowed in Mansfield’s dark eyes.
“Tell him after we’ve resumed our game.” The muted thud of the Duke of Warwick’s cane echoed in the foyer. “I’m besting all three of them, and I’d loathe to let them escape before I’ve taken their money.”
“As you wish,” Levi said and gestured toward the parlor.
Beaufort sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. “Now, I recollect the reason I volunteered to find you.”
“Our luck is changing.” Mansfield indicated Levi and Roxburghe with a jerk of his head. “Warwick cannot win against all of us.”
“Yes, I can,” Warwick replied over his shoulder, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped back into the parlor.
Before Levi could enter the room, Roxburghe touched his arm, directing him to the side. Waiting until the other men passed through the doorway, he lowered his voice.
“Warwick’s situation seems to be deteriorating; he’s worse than when I last saw him.”
“He won’t hear reason,” Levi said, directing Roxburghe farther down the hallway. “It’s been a fortnight since he’s stepped one foot outside his lodgings. I had to remind him of the rules of the bet to force him out of bed.”
“Did you threaten violence?”
