Page 3 of A Duke's Sinful Bargain
It seemed that if one wished for solitude away from the bustle of busy life, one was considered utterly mad, and as such, would have rumors swarming around their name, which simultaneously sullied it.
Alexander knew well that balls were not only places of marital arrangements, but mostly business connections. That was why he was never interested in women there, but rather, the men. That evening, however, Alexander found himself inexplicably captivated by a woman who stood out amid the vibrant soirée. She moved with a willowy grace, her every step an echo of elegance that commanded attention.
Her chestnut brown hair, arranged in loose curls that framed her face, accentuated the striking color of her eyes—an entrancing shade of emerald green that held a depth of mystery. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a certain allure, drawing his gaze to her, making everyone else in the room completely invisible.
However, what set her apart in a most intriguing way was her distinctive limp. In a room where perfection was often sought and expected, her unique characteristic became a beacon of individuality. Far from being a flaw, the imperfection added to her allure, creating an air of authenticity that stood out against the polished façade of societal expectations.
Just as he was about to set out to find Lady Pentor and ask to be introduced to the mysterious lady, he felt someone tugging at his upper arm—a custom befitting such a gathering, but one that he particularly disliked.
“Your Grace.” A young man by the name of Wesley, whom Alexander knew briefly, approached him apologetically. “Would you kindly join our game of cards? We like to think of ourselves as high-stakes players, but we’ve never played with someone like you at the table. It would be quite an honor for us.”
Alexander cast a quick glance at the mahogany table. He recognized two young men, whose fathers already owed him money. But he was too much of a gentleman to mention such a thing in front of everyone. Truth be told, he was in no mood for cards now.
He wanted to speak to the mysterious woman, who… he only noticed now still had her eyes on him, as if waiting to see what his next move was. It titillated him beyond measure to know he had also managed to capture her attention. He wanted to prove himself to her, if as nothing else than as a good card player. The rest would, hopefully, follow.
“All right.” He nodded, agreeing to the proposition. “I shall join you for one game.”
“Splendid!” the young, freckled man exclaimed, throwing a casual nod at the other players, who seemed equally overjoyed to have him at their table.
Within minutes, they were all seated at the mahogany table, adorned with flickering candles and fine crystal glassware. That was to become their stage for this clandestine dance of chance. For that was what it truly was, according to Alexander. A game of chance. A game of luck. But also, a game of character.
A player needed to recognize subtle cues that were plainly written on the faces of the other players, and most importantly, one needed to know when to rise from the table and admit defeat, even at the cost of some coin. It was this moment of realization that separated the real men from spineless weaklings who would push their luck until there was nothing left, not even their dignity.
On this particular occasion, the players were a mix of aristocrats as well as seasoned gamblers, who were now eyeing one another with a combination of camaraderie and rivalry. Alexander, well-versed in the subtleties of both the game and the social intricacies it often entailed, maintained a composed exterior. He knew his piercing blue eyes betrayed none of the thoughts that churned beneath the surface.
As the cards were dealt, a hushed tension settled over the room. The rhythmic shuffle and the crisp snap of cards echoed in the space, punctuating the subdued conversations that lingered in the air.
Alexander didn’t take much part in these conversations, though. Only when a question was directly aimed at him. Instead, he focused on the game. His nimble fingers deftly manipulated the cards, a testament to the countless hours spent honing his skills in such clandestine pursuits.
The game unfolded with an ebb and flow of fortunes, each player revealing glimpses of their strategies with every subtle glance and measured bet. They didn’t even know that, wordlessly, they told Alexander everything he needed to know. The tension heightened as the stakes grew, and the duke found himself silently calculating the odds, a strategist in the midst of an intricate chess match.
With a calculated bluff, he strategically raised the bet, causing a ripple of reactions among his opponents, shock etched on their faces. He’d caught them off guard, just as he had planned. His opponents hesitated, glancing at their dwindling stacks of chips. It was in this moment of uncertainty that Alexander subtly revealed the strength of his hand.
The final card was laid on the table, and a silence fell over the room as each player assessed their fate. Alexander’s steady gaze surveyed the tableau, maintaining an impassive expression that belied the excitement that pulsed beneath the surface. With a measured confidence, he revealed his cards, showcasing a winning hand that left his adversaries in awe.
The mysterious woman, who had been observing the game with a quiet intensity, met Alexander’s gaze. Her emerald eyes held a spark of admiration, and in that unspoken exchange, a subtle connection was forged.
The victory at the card table was not just about chips and wagers; it was a prelude to a deeper game, one that unfolded in the hidden corners of glances and stories yet to be exchanged. He knew she wanted to speak to him, but the social intricacies they were forced to follow kept them apart… at least, for the time being.
Alexander could not wait any longer. His eyes searched the room for Lady Pentor, and when he finally found her, he headed straight toward her. He patiently waited for her to finish her conversation with an elderly couple, then right as she turned around, he was before her, ready to present her with his request.
“Oh, Your Grace! You startled me! I wasn’t expecting anyone directly behind me.” She chuckled, pressing her hand to her burgeoning chest, which had been a little too tightly pressed in her gown. Then, without allowing him to say anything first, she continued. “I hope you are finding this evening’s festivities to your liking?”
Alexander replied with a faint but polite smile. “Lady Pentor, your gatherings are always a source of intrigue and enjoyment. But tonight, I—”
“Goodness me!” she interrupted him jovially. “It seems compliments are pouring on me this evening!”
“Rightfully so.” He bowed his head as he spoke, ignoring the fact that she had interrupted him. “But I come to you with a small request.”
Her lips parted in a silent shock. “What is it I may assist you with, Your Grace?” she asked, hope for some gossip flickering in her eyes.
Once he told her what he needed of her, the news would spread through thetonlike the plague by the following day. Not only that, but they might also add this mysterious lady to the endless list of ladies they claimed he had chosen at balls similar to this one, then taken home for…
He frowned at the very thought. It was tasteless beyond compare. But he couldn’t care what thetonthought of him. Whether they thought him a man who lived for his work or a man who indulged in his most beastly instincts during the night, he didn’t care one bit.
He did care, however, that the reputation of the lady in question would not be tarnished by his desire to meet her. Still, the yearning to meet her won over anything else. He had to know her name. He had to know more about her, anything she was willing to share.
He noticed only now that Lady Pentor was still waiting to hear his request. He quickly cleared his throat.
