“I think I've found a cheat.”
“Prove it.”Kit dealt the next hand with a quick flick of the wrist.His fingers were slim, almost delicate.A clerk's hands, maybe, not a laborer's.“Or keep losing.Either way suits me.”
Wesley picked up his cards.And it was a garbage hand.Of course.
He folded, tossed his cards down, and reached for his drink.Across the table, Kit collected another small pot from the other players and added it to his growing pile.
Max caught Wesley's eye and tilted his head toward the door.Time to go before he lost anything more.And he would, because all he could think about was Thea.
“Gentlemen.”Wesley stood.
Kit looked up at him.For a moment something familiar flickered in his expression, and then the man looked back down at the table.“Come back anytime.I could use new boots.”
Louis laughed.Wesley didn't.
They collected their coats and made their way out into the night.The air hit Wesley's face, cool and sharp, his carriage waiting at the corner.
“That boy took you for twenty pounds,” Louis said as they climbed inside.“At least.”
“I'm aware.”He didn’t like to lose.In his younger years, he’d only ever lost to Thea.He hadn’t cared much for it then, either.
Wesley settled against the seat as the carriage lurched into motion.For two hours, no one had called him Your Grace.No one had deferred to him, asked for favors, or tried to earn his esteem.That lad, Kit, had just taken his money and mocked him for it.
It was the most refreshing evening he'd had in months, even if his pockets were lighter.
“So.”Louis stretched out, taking up more than his share of the seat.“Are we going to talk about why you needed to escape tonight, or shall I guess?”
“Please don't.”
“Your mother,” Louis said, ignoring him.“She's got that look again.I saw her at the Ashworth ball, watching your every move.Is she still pushing Lady Caroline on you?”
Wesley's silence was answer enough.
“Christ.”Louis made a face.“She's pretty enough, but can you imagine?'Yes, Your Grace.Of course, Your Grace.Whatever you say, Your Grace.'You'd be bored within a fortnight.”
Wesley completely agreed with his friends.“She's perfectly suitable.”
“That's the problem,” Max said from the opposite seat.“You know you want someone with a little more fire than that.”
“What I want is irrelevant.My mother has made it clear that if I don't choose someone this Season, she'll make the choice for me.”
“And you're just going to let her?”Louis raised an eyebrow.“You're a bloody duke.Tell her to mind her own affairs.”
“Continuing the family line is very much her affair, as she constantly reminds me.”Wesley stared out the window at the darkened streets.“She's not wrong.I need an heir, and I can only put it off for so long.”
“There's a difference between needing an heir and marrying a woman who makes you want to chew your own arm off,” Louis said.“You are going to need someone you actually want to bed more than once.”
“Spoken like a true libertine.”
“And you sound like a man who hasn’t wet his wick in far too long.When's the last time you had a woman?”
Wesley didn't answer.Because his friend was right.The silence stretched, and he felt the stares from his friends.Too long.It had been too long, and they all knew it.
Louis leaned forward.“Come on, Wes.When?”
“That's none of your concern.”
“It's been that long?”Louis let out a low whistle.“No wonder you're wound so tight.You need to—”
