Page 49 of A Stranger’s Gamble

She laughed. “You are saying that I won by luck?”

“We all get lucky now and then.”

She regarded him. “High card wins.”

Emerson’s brows shot up in surprise. “That is surely a game of luck.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “That will even the odds of you winning.”

Laughter drifted through the onlookers.

“You are too kind.” Emerson picked up the deck, which sat in front of the man sitting between them, and shuffled. He set the deck in the middle of the table. “Ladies first.”

She grasped the deck, then lifted nearly half the cards and turned them face up on the table before her. Jack of spades.

The crowd oohed.

She betrayed no emotion. Adam had to admit, she had nerve.

Eyes on Miss Shaw, Emerson cut the deck, then dragged the deck across the table to him and turned it over. If Adam had looked away for the barest of seconds or even blinked, he would have missed the very skilled sleight of hand that slipped a card to the top of the deck. Emerson turned over the card. King of hearts.

***

Ten minutes after Sophie lost the cut of the cards to Lord Emerson, she stopped alongside Lord Emerson at the front drive and allowed him to help her into his waiting carriage. He vaulted up behind her and pulled the door shut as he dropped onto the seat opposite her.

Despite the note she left her father that she had allowed Lord Emerson to escort her home, her would be angry. Sophie thought of Mr. MacAlister. If her father knew Adam had kissed her, he would insist Lord Monthemer turn him out without a reference. Allowing Lord Emerson to escort her home would show Lord Monthemer that she wasn’t the woman for him, and no one would get hurt.

“Miss Shaw,” Lord Emerson began, as the carriage lurched into motion, “I—”

The door swung open, and another man leapt inside.

Sophie blinked. “Mr. MacAlister?”

“MacAlister?” Lord Emerson frowned.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Adam said. He looked at Lord Emerson. “How are you, Vance?”

Lord Emerson’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of game is this?”

Sophie started to ask how they knew one another, but Adam looked at her and said, “I could ask the same thing. Do you know Lord Emerson?”

She liked Adam—perhaps too much—but this was downright rude. “Our friendship does not entitle you to these personal questions, sir,” she said, and wondered if he thought the kiss they’d shared entitled him to intrude upon her business. “What are you doing here?”

“Yes,” Lord Emerson said. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing Lord Emerson is doing,” Adam replied.

Lord Emerson gave a small nod. “I am simply seeing Miss—”

“Really, Mr. MacAlister,” Sophie cut in before Lord Emerson could say her name, “you are being rude.”

He locked eyes with her. “You mean rude, as in when a lady sends a man to fetch her a drink, then she disappears.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed look, then turned to Lord Emerson. “Sir, it is one in the morning. Long past my time to retire. You are taking me directly home?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“Then you won’t mind my accompanying you home along with Lord Emerson,” Adam said.