With a quirked smile, Hugo leaned in toward Evelyn, his voice soft and low as he whispered, “Are you afraid to lose, dear Evelyn?”
Her entire being responded involuntarily to the tone of that voice, prompting her to sit up straighter, her heart beating a little faster, her skin flushing with that warm tingly sensation. He probably thought he could distract her with his flirtations, but as she met his gaze and forced herself to hold it, she found the opposite to be true.
If she could not win in marriage or prospects, she would at least win this game.
“If I feared that, Your Grace, I would never leave my home,” she replied with a smile of her own, as she gestured for Lord Arthur to deal her into the game.
However, there was always a difference between studying something and putting it into practice. By the end of the first game, she had lost rather spectacularly, her mind struggling to pick apart the moments where she had gone awry.
“Will you play again, or is one loss quite enough?” Hugo goaded, his blue eyes twinkling in an annoyingly enchanting fashion.
Although she noticed that he had a tendency to close his left eye from time to time, not a wink or a blink but a deliberate closure, as if it caused him some pain or strain. It was the eye that, on nearer inspection, was a shade lighter than the other.
“Have you ever suffered an injury to your eye?” she asked as the next game began.
Hugo stared at her as if she had just exposed his darkest secrets. “Pardon? Why would you say that?”
“One is paler than the other, and you blink it more often,” she explained, putting down her card.
Hugo scarcely looked at his own cards before placing one down, just as she had hoped. “What an… astute observation, but you will not learn anything from it. I give nothing away when I play at cards.”
“Oh, but you do,” she replied with a smile. “More than you think.”
He blinked that left eye more firmly than his right, his lip curling as if he had just realized what he had done. “It gets dry sometimes, that is all.”
“If you say so.” She knew she had him somewhat rattled, though she did not know why.
Was I right? Was he injured somehow?
She did not care to press too much, for there was a line between skillful distraction and outright prying that she would not be crossing, but it gave her food for thought. A rising curiosity about the gentleman who had led her in the best dance of her life, and had made her… feel something, even if it was just part of his revenge.
If she ended up marrying the baron, she would need all of the nice memories she could muster. Indeed, fantasy and imagination would probably be her means of surviving such a marriage.
She lost the second game, though not as badly as the first. It was rather close, in truth, so much so that Selina had gone quiet. Maybe she had not expected Evelyn to learn so quickly, getting better with each passing round.
“Ready to give up?” Hugo asked, though his smile was not as wicked as before.
“Not in the slightest. I shall not relent until I am victorious,” Evelyn replied, feeling rather buoyant. “I am learning more about the game and its players with every loss. That is, of course, the value in losing, Your Grace. It is always an education.”
He made a small, amused sound. “You have such pearls of wisdom, Lady Evelyn. Wherever did you read that?”
“I did not,” she replied. “I thought of it just now.”
“Surely, that cannot be true.” Hugo leaned in slightly. “Come now, do not attempt to fool us by claiming the words of a philosopher as your own.”
She glanced at him, her eyebrow raised. “If you do not believe me, I would happily wait while you read all of the philosophy books in my household library, so I might then feel some satisfaction when you discover that you are mistaken.”
In truth, shewasprobably pooling together thoughts and theories of philosophers that she favored, but the sentiment was her own. She had experienced enough loss to understand the value and virtue in it, and how one could choose to let it crush you or use it to carve a stronger version of yourself that would not be crushed the next time.
“If you win the next round, I shall believe you,” he said with a knowing smile, no doubt expecting her to lose again.
She shrugged. “Very well. Let us begin.”
She picked up her cards and eyed them carefully, keeping Selina, Hugo, and Lord Arthur in her periphery, watching for any sign of joy or dismay or uncertainty. Selina was the easiest to read, for Evelyn knew her the best, but Lord Arthur was not so subtle with his expressions either.
I can do this,Evelyn told herself as she played a nonchalant four of hearts.
It was like poetry. Every card put down by the others flowed directly into the cards that she possessed, her confidence and her hope rising as, one by one, the other players were forced to concede defeat. Lord Arthur was first, Selina was second, muttering that she did not favor this game anyway.
