“Because I know how to play this damn game.” The words emerged from the duke on a snarl. “I do not need help. I need an honest dealer.”
Robert still looked at Jimmy. “How much has he lost?”
“Three-hundred pounds.”
A low murmur made its way through the crowd on a wave. Three-hundred pounds was more money than many of these people would see in a decade. Some in a lifetime.
Gilley leaned closer to Robert. “That puts him close to five-thousand owed the house.”
The murmur grew louder and more menacing. Michael looked around at faces beginning to cloud with distrust and anger. This was about to turn ugly if not diffused quickly.
Robert nodded once, and his focus shifted abruptly to the duke.
Wykeham stared at him. “What of it?”
“That’s the house limit, sir.”
Wykeham’s chin went up. “Do you know who I am?”
Robert’s eyes narrowed. “In Campion’s Emporium, we all play on an equal footing. Some simply are in a position to lose more money than others.”
Wykeham switched his glare to Michael. “Is this how you challenge a rival? Attempts at public humiliation?”
Robert glanced over his right shoulder at Michael, his slightly twisted grin returning. “This?” He pointed across the table at the duke. “This is the one?”
Michael stepped forward, his own smile grim. “Lord Robert Ashton, may I present the Duke of Wykeham. And, yes, I met His Grace for the first time earlier this afternoon.” He bowed slightly. “It is mere providence that brought me here this evening, Your Grace. Lord Robert is my brother—”
“Oh, I know well who he is.”
“And I had no reason to think a man such as yourself would frequent this establishment. It is a complete surprise to find you here. Especially given the location of our recent acquaintance. And trust me, sir. If I wanted to challenge you in that rivalry, this would not be my battlefield of choice.”
Wykeham froze. “Do you intend to challenge me?”
“Careful,” Robert muttered.
Michael ignored his brother. “I do not, Your Grace. I believe the lady is perfectly capable of making her own choices.”
Wykeham’s slow grin was sly, his eyes narrowing. “Actually, sir, you will find that choice has already been made for her, in a far wiser fashion, by her father.”
It was a bolt to the heart, blindly sent but hitting home. Every muscle in Michael’s body tensed as the desire to launch across the table at Wykeham seized him.
But so did a vise-like grip on his forearm. Michael glanced down at Robert’s hand as his brother spoke. “Mr. Gilley, would you please escort Wykeham to the door?”
Wykeham flared. “What about my money? What about his cheating?” He pointed again at Jimmy. “What if I spread the word—”
“You will discover, Your Grace, that the entirety of Mayfair knows the legitimacy and honesty of my dealers, especially this young man, who has run tables here for many years as our lead dealer. However scandalous they consider my involvement in these operations, they all come on a regular basis. You, however, will leave tonight and not return for three months, and only then if you make a substantial payment on your current debt or offer something up equivalent in barter. Until you do, you will find your account frozen, with no additional credit available.”
Wykeham glared up at Gilley as the big man moved in behind him, then turned back to Robert. “And tonight?”
“Tonight’s losses will be added to your total debit to the Emporium.”
“Even though it was achieved by cheating.”
“An accusation, sir, is not proof. And if you had proof, we would have seen it by now. The fact that you continue to ineptly lose money is not proof that the table is rigged or the dealer dishonest.”
Wykeham’s face flushed red. “The only way I lose this amount of money is when someone is cheating.”
Robert looked at the other men around the table, who suddenly found their cards of vital interest. He looked back up at Wykeham. “If not the dealer, then who? Which one?”
