Page 59 of A Taste of Miss Honey

She dealt with exaggerated care until the men were almost wild with impatience. Alveston bought again, discarding badly and revealing a nervous edge that Izzy thought promising. Ben declined to buy, and Mr Kimble confidently knocked, signalling the last round.

Now it was time.

Izzy blinked, hands fluttering with nerves as she looked around the table. “Does this mean I must show my cards?”

“You must,” Alveston said, smiling as though humouring a child. He laid his down first. Jack of spades, jack of diamonds, two of clubs. “A pair,” he announced confidently.

Ben placed his cards down next. Ace of spades, queen of spades, four of diamonds.

“Highest cards,” he said simply.

A murmur swept the observers.

“Oh dear,” Izzy said softly, cheeks warming prettily. “And I thought I’d done rather well, but now I’m not sure if it’s good enough.”

“Go on, Miss Honeywell,” Mr Pultney urged. “You’re doing splendidly.”

Izzy beamed at him and turned her three cards over with innocent delight. Three sevens. Again.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke.

“A tricon, by God!” Kimble exclaimed. “Again!”

“Impossible!” Alveston exclaimed, his expression furious. “How can she have three sevens again?”

Izzy smiled uncertainly. “Does that beat the other hands then?”

“It does,” Hartwell said, staring at her cards with a frown.

“How marvellous,” Izzy said with a little laugh. “I can hardly believe it, for I never usually win. It must be beginner’s luck.”

Ben made a choked sound and Izzy turned innocent eyes upon him. “I like this game,” she told him sweetly. He sent her a look that made her heart leap with excitement. She was riding the high of winning and proving her skill to him as well as vexing Alveston beyond bearing and having the time of her life.

They continued their game, with Izzy winning two of the next three games, though with rather less flair, as the men watched her with increasing confusion. Alveston lost badly, until it was his turn to deal.

Izzy studied his hands as he shuffled, and knew at once he was cheating, palming good cards to the bottom of the deck. To give him his due, he did it skilfully, and if not for Black Jack’s careful teaching, she’d not know what to look for. But the angle of the deck, and the slight downward pressure of his fingers was wrong. Even the sound of the cards as he moved them was off. The slight clumping sound of a stack of cards kept together was an obvious tell in the quiet room. Izzy’s heart kicked in her chest. If she could prove he was cheating, it would show what manner of man he was. It would undermine any slanderous accusations he could throw against Ben, for who would believe such a man? Cheating at cards was among the most dishonourable things a fellow could do. Not so low as treason, but it was a start. But how to prove it? Her heart skipped as she considered the possibilities. She could not accuse when there was no obvious proof and no one else seemed to have noticed.

Alveston began to deal but Ben said coolly, “Cut first.”

Izzy glanced at Ben, her heart skipping. He’d seen it too.

With a thin smile, Alveston gathered the two cards he’d dealt back into the pack. Izzy focused on his hands, her heart leaping as she noticed his quick fingers pinching a card at one corner. A crimp. It was subtle, she had to give him credit. Black Jack would admire his skill, which was formidable. A pity he had not put as much effort into learning how to play honourably, but the tiny bend in the card would force the cut in the place he wanted it to go.

Alveston offered the deck to Pultney on his right. Izzy sucked in a breath, suddenly sick with apprehension, knowing she was about to make the most appalling scene and praying it was worth it.

“Oh, that’s clever,” she remarked, smiling admiringly at Alveston.

The men all turned to look at her and she pretended to falter, looking from one to another. “Oh, I beg your pardon, but I didn’t know such tricks were allowed when you played for money.”

An odd tension thrummed around the table, gasps from the now not inconsiderable crowd who had gathered to watch as Izzy won with increasing skill. Ben turned to her, his expression hard but she could see the glint of anticipation in his eyes. This would work. He felt it too. “Miss Honeywell? What tricks?”

“He’s crimped the card to force the cut,” she said, laughing a little, though murmurs of shock rippled through the room. “He did it so cleverly I almost didn’t catch it, and I only noticed because it’s the sort of wicked trick my friend plays on me when she’s determined to win. I keep telling her it’s not the done thing, but she is far more competitive than I,” she added, all naivety.

“Miss Honeywell,” Alveston said, a dangerous note to his voice. “You are confused. I am sorry, my dear, but this is why ladies ought not to play with men, they do not understand—”

“She’s right.” Hartwell, who had reached for the deck whilst Alveston’s attention had turned to Izzy, held up the crimped card. The queen of hearts.

“By God! He cheated,” Mr Kimble said, staring at Alveston in disgust.