Then, it was just Evelyn and Hugo, down to their last few cards.
He placed a ten of spades and she put a ten of jacks on top of it. He set down a jack of hearts on top of that, which she trounced with the queen of hearts. He gingerly put down the king of diamonds, one card left in his grip.
Come on… come on…
Breathless, she lay the king of hearts on top of it and raised her gaze to see what she might read in Hugo’s expression.
With a slight rise of his eyebrow, he stared at his cards and shook his head. “Your turn. I have nothing.”
Feeling as if she might shriek with delight, her face broke into the widest of grins as she put the ace of hearts onto the stack. All that remained was whether he had a two in the red suit, for there were no more kings in the red that could be placed on top.
He puffed out an annoyed breath, and tossed his last card onto the table. A three of spades.
“It would seem you are the winner, Lady Evelyn,” he said, with a note of amusement in his voice, as if he were not quite as disappointed as he wanted her to think. “Well played. A philosopher and an expert at gambling. I wonder what other mysterious talents you possess.”
She could not believe that she had actually won, unable to school her face into anything like polite reserve. It was a rush that she wanted to relish, and as she gazed into Hugo’s eyes, she saw a spark of admiration that made her heart skip a beat.
Indeed, if she had not seen the three of spades for herself, she might have thought that he had let her win. But no, she had done it, all on her own.
And he is happy for me. He is… happy for me.
Bombarded with a sudden attack of shyness, Evelyn lowered her gaze and cleared her dry throat. “I think that is where I must end my participation. Best to leave when one is winning.”
She pushed back the chair in a hurry and, with a brief curtsy to Hugo and Lord Arthur, she took herself out onto the garden terrace, for she found she was in dire need of fresh air and a cool breeze to temper the warmth in her face.
He is not for you,she told herself sternly as she walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out across beautiful gardens, fragrant in the evening air, the shadowed shapes of topiary and hedges not quite as unnerving as whatever had just happened inside the manor.
“No,” she whispered, her voice catching, “my path has already been decided.”
And in that future, she was anything but the victor.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Who was that lovely young woman you were just playing cards with?” Frances asked, catching Hugo alone by the liquor table, where he had spent far too long trying to decide on a beverage.
Whatdidone drink when one was trying to get rid of unexpected feelings of admiration? He truly did not know what had come over him at the card table, but he had willed Evelyn’s triumph into existence, wanting her to win with every fiber of his being. As an occasional gambling man, it made no sense to him at all.
“Miss Parsons?” Hugo replied. “You know her. She is the one who won the auction.”
Frances laughed awkwardly, her hand covering her mouth: an old habit. “Not her, you dolt. The other one. The one you were smiling at.”
“I was not smiling. I was smirking because IthoughtI was about to trounce everyone at cards,” he insisted, a note too quickly. “She is Lady Evelyn Bartlett. Daughter to the Earl of… I forget.”
“Townshend,” Frances said, tilting her head to one side.
“Yes, perhaps that is it,” he said, though hehadtruly forgotten.
Frances reached for the port and poured herself a small measure. “She is very beautiful. Are you quite certain you werenotsmiling at her? It would be no terrible thing if you were.” She paused, looking over to where Selina now stood, speaking with two other ladies. “Miss Parsons is an exquisite beauty, there can be no denying that, but I have often found that the prettiest among society are not always the most interesting. They have never had to be.”
“She is… interesting enough,” Hugo said, though he could not recall the last time his thoughts had wandered to her instead of Evelyn. “And we still have three outings. That is ample time to get to know her better.”
Frances frowned. “You believe there could be an attachment there? A prospect?”
“I do not see why not.” Hugo took the port from Frances and poured some for himself. “She is beautiful, as you said, she has plenty of character, she is skilled at navigating society events, she has reasonable manners, and she is the diamond of the Season. There is nothing wrong with her.”
“But is she right for you?” Frances asked, with a sneaky little smile, as if she knew something that Hugo did not.
Hugo downed his port in one go, then refilled his glass. “I suppose I shall find out over the course of our next three encounters. And it helps somewhat that we shall be in the same place for the next week.” He took a sip of the second drink. “Ask me that again when we are about to depart.”
