Page 104 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“No,” Forester exclaimed, staring at the overflowing pot with frantic eyes. “Not yet!” It would be split equally among the players according to how many tricks they took. Alistair had also lost recently, and only a handful of markers remained at his place, but Forester had staked hundreds of shares in his company.
“It will be, sir,” replied the owner, implacable. “The house closes at four o’clock.” He shuffled the cards another time and dealt.
Georgiana was going to fold. So far she’d managed not to lose, but neither had she won. The pot was obscenely large. Her head ached from the strain of trying to keep up, and her bodice was damp with nervous perspiration.Take the cards and fold, she told herself. Let Rob or Heath or anyone else finish off Forester. The man had scribbled several notes for shares, and those slips of paper in the mound of markers gleamed white with the promise of his ruin.
But when Georgiana took up her cards, she almost choked. It was the best hand she’d had all night—the best hand she’d held in her life. Hardly breathing, she stared at the cards until they blurred.
And when her turn came, instead of folding, she played the ace of diamonds, and held her breath until the trick went to her. The next round, she won with the ten of hearts, to her astonishment. Lord Marlow gave a low whistle and joked about lady luck. Forester hunched over his cards, his breathing audible to all. A hard line creased Alistair’s forehead.
The next round fell to her queen of hearts. Forester went pasty pale, as he’d had the jack. She played the king in the next hand, stealing a trick from Rob, who’d played the ace of spades. He muttered to Heathercote, sounding disgruntled, but when she glanced at him, he winked.
It was the final hand. Georgiana looked at the last card in her hand: Pam, the jack of clubs. The top trump card in loo, the card that beat all the others. She laid it down without a word when it was her turn. If anyone else spoke, she couldn’t hear it over the roaring in her ears.
She’d won the entire pot.
Chapter 33
“I’ll be damned,” murmured Tom.
“Well done, ma’am,” cried Marlow, pounding the table.
Forester shot to his feet, gripping the edge of the table as he surveyed the cards. He looked dazed, but fury was bubbling through. “No,” he said thickly. “No!That’s—that’s—she cheated!”
The table fell silent. Mr. Dashwood rose, wearing the same bland expression he’d worn all night. “Have a care, Mr. Forester. Do not make accusations you cannot prove.”
“Of course there was fraud.” Wakefield came to Forester’s defense. His burning eyes jumped from the pot to the club owner to Georgiana. “She’s not a gambler. She ought not to be at the tables in the first place. For a girl to beat all these practiced gamblers?” His scornful gaze raked the table. “Something’s afoot.”
Heathercote scoffed. “Which is she? An inexperienced girl, or a cheat so skilled none of us saw her do it?”
“Anyone watching her face could see that she wasn’t cheating. I knew she had a high hand the moment she picked up her cards. You’ve fallen prey to beginner’s luck,” added Tom.
“No,” Forester insisted. “She had to cheat!”
Mr. Dashwood clasped his hands behind him. “How, sir?” Forester blinked at him. “Are you accusing me?” prompted the owner in a terrifyingly soft voice.
Wakefield snorted. “Perhaps he is. What sort of establishment do you operate?”
Mr. Dashwood gazed at him. Forester jerked out of his daze. “No! No, of course I’m not accusing you, Mr. Dashwood... I just...” His gaze went to the pot, this time with despair, before he turned to Georgiana. “My lady, surely you will have some compassion. I became overheated in the moment, and wagered rashly. I trust you’ll be good enough to give me time to redeem my notes...”
“Don’t be a fool.” Wakefield’s disdainful glance took in his business partner and his sister. “She’s going to give them back.”
Rob laughed. “Give it back? This wasn’t a ladies’ tea, Wakefield.Iwouldn’t give them back, and I don’t think you’d ask it of me.”
“No one made Forester wager those chits,” said Heath in scorn. “He insisted.”
“Be a man,” muttered Marlow.
Wakefield’s eyes narrowed at Rob. “You called on her the other day, Westmorland. Without my permission. Whatever your hopes there, they are futile.” He turned to Georgiana. “She is under my guardianship, and I am removing her from this cursed club.”
Georgiana shot to her feet. “No.” She kept her attention on her brother, but over his shoulder she could see Rob and his brother, frozen in identical positions half out of their seats, poised to come to her aid. Her heart swelled to see them, ready but waiting for her. “I am not going with you,” she told Alistair. “Not tonight, notever. I am of age, and I can live where I choose, and receive the callers I choose.” She glimpsed the pot again, and added, “And I’mkeepingwhat I won tonight.”
He stepped insultingly close. “You’re not,” he whispered. “Was this display meant to annoy me? I don’t appreciate it.” He shook his head. “Come. You’ve humiliated yourself and me enough.”
“You’ve humiliated yourself,” she replied. “And your investment, which you came to London to safeguard, was just wagered away by Mr. Forester. You did invest in his company, didn’t you? With my funds, I believe. I’ve retained a solicitor to investigate.” Alistair’s face contorted and he made a threatening motion before he checked himself, but not before she flinched. Vibrating with anger, Georgiana glanced at Mr. Dashwood. “You require members to pay their debts, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said evenly. “Mr. Forester, transfer the shares to Lady Georgiana on the morrow or lose your membership.”
Forester looked positively green. “Of course,” he whispered.
