Page 103 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“One hundred shares will amply cover my debt to the pot.”
“What sort of company is it?” asked Tom with a frown. “Can’t spend your shares at Tattersall’s, after all.”
Flushed with triumph now, Forester signed his name to the promissory note and added it to the pot. “A shipping company, my lord. Very profitable. I’ll redeem them, of course.” Wakefield glowered at him, and Rob suspected the earl knew it would be with investor funds.
But now... now they had him, and his company. Forester took up his next hand with renewed spirits, laughing and ordering another bottle of port. Rob laughed with the rest, and opened the next round with an ante of five thousand pounds, the highest of the night.Keep him playing past prudence, the duchess had said. He could do that. And now that he’d got used to it, Forester added more shares to the pot.
After the next round, though, the duchess put one hand to her mouth, looking distinctly queasy. Ware bent down. “Are you well, my dear?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and took a tiny sip of her drink. “Perfectly.”
The duke frowned. He muttered something to his brother, who hurried away. They played on, but a few minutes later the duchess put her head in her hands.
“Sophie,” said the duke under his breath.
She looked up, as pale as milk and her eyes glassy. “Yes—I—perhaps I need some fresh air,” she said unsteadily as her husband helped her to her feet. “Gentlemen, please excuse me...”
“Are you bowing out?” asked Heath. A large stack of markers stood before her.
The duchess looked at Georgiana in apology. She was a strong player, and had helped push the games in the direction they wanted. Rob took a drink of wine to cover his unease. Damn. Where had Philip gone? He was nothing to the duchess, but he knew what they were attempting and they needed another player...
“I’ll play,” Georgiana blurted out in the silence.
Wakefield all but erupted from his seat. “You will not! Close your mouth and remember your place!”
“Lord Wakefield,” said Dashwood in a quiet but steely voice. The table fell silent. “She is a guest for tonight, with as much right to play as you have. Has anyone any objection to her participation?”
Wakefield glared at Georgiana as if he’d like to strangle her.
“Not I,” said Tom.
“Not I,” Heath echoed, his glance flickering toward Rob, who didn’t dare say anything.
Forester shrugged. Wakefield stood angrily for a moment, but then sank into his chair, his expression malevolent.
Mr. Dashwood circled the table. “Go on, Carter. I’ll take this one.”
To Rob’s shock the club owner took the dealer’s seat himself. Heath glanced at him in worry. Rob didn’t know whether to abandon the plan for the night, or plow onward. He’d never seen Dashwood participate in play. Was he displeased?
Dashwood took up the cards, which seemed to come alive in his long-fingered hands. “Are you in, my lady?”
Rob glanced at Georgiana. Wide-eyed, she gave a tiny nod. “Yes.”
Georgiana took the seat, and Dashwood dealt.
Good heavens above, what had she done?
Georgiana could barely breathe past the furious pounding of her heart. Sophie had planned to do this, Sophie who could track every card in a deck and who knew the odds of every play. But now Sophie was ill, being led out by her husband, and Georgiana would have to do it.
“What are trumps?” she asked, more to get over her nerves than anything else.
Rob’s eyes met hers. “Hearts.”
She nodded and took up her cards. They were decent, and with some relief she played the hand well.
She didn’t know how long they played. Her knuckles grew stiff from gripping her cards.Don’t lose, she kept repeating inside her head. She didn’t have to win, but she didn’t want to lose. Miraculously her cards continued to fall, if not brilliantly, then at least well enough. She was quick to fold if they didn’t.
“This will be the final deal,” announced Mr. Dashwood at last.
