Page 18 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
Wooden chips were already sitting in front of Andrew. They always began the games with an equal amount, and Drake knew where to find each of them if they didn’t pay up what they owed at the end. Andrew’s parents had taken the street urchin in and raised him as one of their own. He was as much a brother to Andrew as Rex was.
He tossed a chip into the center of the table, watched as Gina did the same. Her small hands were bared. All their hands were bared. Made handling the cards easier. Sleeves were rolled past elbows so cards couldn’t be hidden within them. Even though they were to play honestly tonight, he wasn’t convinced everyone would adhere to the rule.
Without even signaling to a nearby footman, he found himself with a glass of scotch, noticed Gina had a snifter of brandy. He’d have thought she’d have preferred wine. He wondered what else he might have guessed wrong about her. Wondered what he might have guessed right. Wondered anything and everything. It had been years since he’d given a fig about what pleasures a woman might offer outside the bed.
The last time he had, he’d been young, naïve, and in the end remarkably stupid. While he enjoyed the company of women immensely, he’d become the worst sort of miser, never again investing his heart or his soul in any relationship. Less chance for experiencing pain that way. Hence he understood Rex warning him away from Gina. She deserved someone who would embrace her wholeheartedly. Andrew would always hold himself in check where emotions were concerned. Having been burned badly once, he had no desire to suffer again.
The cards were dealt. After gathering his up, he lifted only the edges to see what he’d been dealt. Then he peered surreptitiously at Gina. A delicate pleat creased her brow. She glanced down at the list of winning combinations someone had written for her. He could fairly hear her squealing with joy inside her mind as her green eyes sparkled and her smile brightened. No one was going to have to cheat to beat her.
“Andrew, you’re up,” Lovingdon suddenly barked, causing Andrew to turn his attention back to his cards. “The bid is twenty quid.”
“Has every aspect of the game been explained to Miss Hammersley?” he asked, striving for a boredom he wasn’t feeling. He wondered if making love to her would garner the same excitement and enthusiasm on her part.
“You must call me Gina. We’re related now. I’m practically a sister.”
“I think the law only views you as related to Rex.”
“When it comes to family, when have we ever taken into account how the law views relations?” Grace asked.
Since his body had begun having inappropriate reactions to Gina’s nearness.
“I consider myself related by my heart to everyone at this table,” she carried on, determined to make her point and make him feel like a total ass for a comment designed to remind himself that Gina was, in fact,nothis sister. That the thoughts he had regarding her would not have him burning in hell. “Blood, marriage licenses, birth certificates really have no bearing on how I view those who mean the most—”
“Calling and raising thirty,” he said, to get the game moving and his sister off her definition of family.
Avendale and his wife called. Lovingdon narrowed his eyes before folding. Grace tossed her chips onto the pile. Gina looked at the list again, gnawed on her lower lip. He wanted to nibble there, stroke his tongue over it, soothe it. His cock stirred as though he was doing precisely that. He shifted in the chair. It was going to be a long night.
Finally she gave a quick nod, like she’d convinced herself of something, gave him a sly grin, and slid her chips toward the pile, and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining her sliding those fingers over his shoulders, his chest, lower... she’d be the death of him yet. “I’ll call and raise you fifty. I can do that, can’t I?”
She looked at him imploringly as though it would break her heart if he said no. If she couldn’t, he’d have said yes and changed the rules then and there to accommodate her desire. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him?
“You can,” Grace told her, “but remember there is another round of betting after we exchange cards.”
“I remember.”
Drake sat beside her. He wasn’t playing, merely dealing. He may have told Gina that Grace was the best at cheating, but the truth was: he was the best of the lot. So even when no cheating was to take place, he wasn’t allowed to play with them because his sleight of hand bordered on the divine. Although he didn’t always use his skill to benefit himself. Andrew wondered what cards he might have slipped to Gina.
“That’s a bit rich for me,” Ashebury said, tossing down his cards. His wife, Minerva, carelessly flipped some tokens to the center of the table.
Andrew tapped his finger on the table, peered at his pair of jacks. He considered stretching out his leg and kicking Drake to see if he could get him to give some subtle signal regarding what Gina might be holding. His brother might own an establishment that catered to the vices, but Drake was one of the most generous souls he’d ever known. He wouldn’t allow Gina’s first experience to be disappointing. Although perhaps he was expecting everyone else to be sporting about it. “I’ll accept your raise...”
He picked up the necessary chips, tapped them on the table, found himself dragging out the moment because the anticipation in her eyes gave him a small measure of satisfaction, made him want to keep her attention, made him want to see her anticipating other things, carnal things. He flicked the wooden chips onto the others, allowing the clacking of wood to break the spell. “...and leave it at that.”
Drake began exchanging cards with the other players. Andrew was well aware, however, that his brother’s attention was more riveted on him than his actions, as though he were striving to decipher some puzzle. He tossed back his scotch, signaled for more.
Gina asked for only two cards. He wondered if she was holding three of a kind. That would beat his jacks. But what if she held three different face cards and was hoping for a pair? What if he took the win? What if he was the one who caused her joy in the game to diminish?
“Andrew?” Drake asked, a question in his voice that went beyond needing to know how many cards he wanted.
While it went against the grain and his competitive nature, he tossed away three cards, one of them the jack of hearts. “Three.”
He nearly burst out laughing when he saw the ten and two jacks that he’d received in return. He’d have had a bloody four of a kind. Never in all the games he’d played, all the ways he’d cheated, had he ever had that wondrous hand land in his lap. Three jacks, though, could still very well beat her.
When the bet came to him, he met Minerva’s fifty and raised a hundred. That knocked the Duchess of Avendale out. Grace folded. Gina was gnawing her lip again, but he could sense the excitement in her. If she wasn’t sitting, she’d no doubt be dancing around on her toes, spinning about.
“I shall call and raise another hundred,” she said.
Minerva folded. He looked at Drake, who gave him a very subtle shake of his head. Did that mean fold or not? Did it signal she had something or she didn’t? “Call. Show me your cards.”
