Page 73 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

“Cards? There’s a game?” Louis demanded.

Max looked up in surprise, for the comte was known for never playing cards.

“Really, Louis? You want to play?” Barnaby said, echoing Max’s disbelief. “When I cannot even get a game of whist out of you?”

“Oh, yes, monsieur. Do come and play with me,” Kilbane said with a wink, smiling with an expression that made all the hairs on the back of Max’s neck stand on end.

“No. Don’t,” Max said, alarmed now. Kilbane was a terrifyingly good card player, and that was before he cheated. Max often suspected he didn’t need to cheat to win, he just enjoyed behaving as people expected him to… i.e., badly.

Louis glanced at him, interest flickering in his eyes. “Why not?”

Max hesitated, not wanting to insult the man, but Ciarán’s expression was sharp, glinting with mischief, which was a bad sign. “Kilbane is an excellent player, Louis, and whilst I mean no disrespect, if you rarely play, it might not be wise. The game is for high stakes and—”

Louis got to his feet. “Lead on,” he said to the marquess, whose slow smile made Max’s stomach drop. He turned to Barnaby, who was looking just as alarmed, but there was damn all they could do to stop him now.

Barnaby got up and grasped Max’s arm. “Come along, perhaps we can stop him from losing the shirt off his back,” he muttered, and hurried after his friend.

Louis watched Kilbane as the marquess studied the shuffled cards with apparent nonchalance. He was good, as Max had said. Extremely good. Unfortunately for the marquess, that was not nearly good enough to beat Louis. Not even if he cheated, which Louis suspected he was contemplating doing now. Louis knew all the tricks, and could employ them too, if he chose, which he might just for the hell of it tonight. He was angry, a furious simmering anger which he had thought he’d rid himself of years ago. Whether or not it was rational, he could not shake the familiar sensation of being abandoned that had haunted his childhood. He wanted to destroy something, or someone, for no good reason other than that he was hurting, and he could not make it stop. This was what he had feared, the person he would become if he lost Evie. If he lost his grip on the good in the world, the darkness would swallow him up as it had tried to do so many times before. Except this time, he would not bother fighting it.

Kilbane dealt the cards, and Louis noted the sleight of hand as he dealt from the bottom of the deck. It was neatly done, and he doubted anyone else would have spotted it. He smiled, holding the marquess’ gaze as he took his hand, which was predictably poor. Well, two could play at that game. Louis allowed Kilbane to win the set, and took the cards back to shuffle, making a grand show of it as the cards flew between his hands. Murmurs rippled around the room as it became clear Louis was no ordinary card player. Kilbane laughed, clearly delighted, as he sat back and watched with appreciation.

“You are the very devil, monsieur,” he said, grinning.

Louis’ mouth twisted into a grim smile. “You have no idea,” he murmured.

Waving a hand at a passing waiter, Louis ordered another bottle of wine. He could sense the tension among those watching the game. Barnaby and Max had folded after the first hand but kept their places at the table. Systematically, Louis had taken each of the remaining four players with ease, until only Kilbane remained, though they too had stayed to watch. The pot in the middle of the table held a staggering six thousand pounds, and the tension in the room was electric. Louis felt certain Kilbane knew he was toying with him simply because it amused him to do so. He thought perhaps the marquess was enjoying himself, even though he was about to lose an obscene amount of money. If the rumours were true, he could well afford it.

A disturbance at the door had Louis glancing up, and he experienced a pang of guilt and regret as he saw his brother standing there, glaring at him. Louis returned his gaze and gave a slight shrug. What did it matter now?

Nic had forbidden him to play when they’d come to England. He had not wanted Louis to remind everyone that he had been just as involved in their scandalous nightclub in Paris. They had fed the ton the lie that the nightclub was entirely Nic’s affair, but that was far from true. Louis had run it with him, and it was his devilish luck with the cards, alongside robbing many of their patrons, that had earned them the money to make it into the exclusive place it was now. Rouge et Noir had made them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams, but Nic had wanted more for Louis. He’d wanted him to retake his place in society, to earn the respect of his peers by marrying well. And where had that got him, exactly? The only woman he wanted was being wooed by a strapping Scot in the wilds of some godforsaken land, and he was here, alone. He no longer gave a damn what the ton thought. He had no doubt that Gabriel Knight had been behind the man prying and asking questions in Paris. Evie’s father was shrewd enough to know he’d only discovered the half of it when Nic had married Eliza. By now he’d have a full report on exactly who the Comte de Villen was, and any chance he had with Evie was doomed.

Not that he was giving up. Not yet. Not for anything.

He laid his cards on the table.

“Monsieur le Comte, you really do have the devil’s own luck,” Kilbane said, throwing his cards down with a laugh, as the men around the table murmured with shock. His violet eyes glittered. “You must tell me your secret,” he added, lowering his voice.

“Which one?” Louis replied dryly.

Kilbane smiled, a slow smile that put Louis in mind of hungry things with teeth. “I find you quite intriguing. You must have spent rather more time in your brother’s club than we have been led to believe. Exactly why have you kept such a formidable talent a secret?”

“My brother thought it bad manners to ruin our new friends and neighbours,” Louis replied, aware of Nic’s unhappy presence at his back.

“Time to go, Louis,” Nic growled. “You’ve had your fun.”

Kilbane shook his head. “But I haven’t,” he said to Nic, narrowing his eyes. “It’s only polite to allow a fellow a chance to win back his losses.”

Nic snorted. “If you’ve not realised by now, you’ve not got a hope in hell of beating him, but you are likely to lose everything you own. Believe me, I’m doing you a favour. Come along, Louis.”

Nic’s tone promised trouble if he didn’t do as he was told, but Louis was feeling belligerent and unwilling to behave himself. He stared at Nic, unmoving, and instead picked up his glass and took a large swallow. The room had fallen silent, everyone aware of his volatile mood and agog to see what would happen next.

“I say, Louis, that was remarkable. Now, I’m glad you never played cards with me, or I’d be up the River Tick without a paddle. Never seen anything like it. Got any tips you can pass on? Reckon I need the help,” Barnaby said cheerfully, though he did not fool Louis, who was well aware he was being managed. “Why don’t we toddle back to your flat, and you can see if I’m beyond help, eh?”

Louis turned his furious gaze upon Barnaby, who quailed but held his ground, returning an anxious smile.

“Might be best, old man,” he added softly, so only Louis could hear.

For a moment Louis toyed with the idea of telling him to go to hell, but found he couldn’t do it. Barnaby had a kind heart, and he was a good friend, and Louis didn’t have so many of those that he could afford to lose one.