Page 10 of Maid for the Marquess

“Impossible!” Barnett bellowed, pounding on the table and standing.

I lifted one eyebrow, looking confused and indignant. “How is it impossible, pray tell? My three kings beat your sequence.” I paused. “Yours is a good second,” I added, wanting to twist the knife a little.

“But—but you were not supposed to have a tricon,” he sputtered. “Your cards—” He stopped speaking, realizing he was talking himself into a corner.

“Cards you dealt. From your own hand. Cards you opened in front of everyone. Are you saying they are wrong?” I taunted.

“No, of course not.” He wiped his brow, clearly distraught. “Another hand. I insist.”

“What have you left?” I asked carefully, tempted beyond measure. “Surely you are not willing to risk this fine estate,” I mocked.

Edward narrowed his eyes at me, warning me not to push this.

“Milton Manor—the country estate next to yours. I have no use for it.”

I had to laugh. “It has been deserted for years, Barnett. The house, or what is left of it, is crumbling—even worse than the scrub brush you have on the table at the moment. The land you have not yet sold is dry and unusable. It has no value or sentimental reason for me to risk what I have earned here.” I ran my hands over the winnings. “As tempting as it is.”

“You must.”

“There is nothing I must do,” I said, a warning note in my voice. “I won the pot. I was willing to walk earlier, and you insisted. You knew the risk.”

He sat down, defeated. I glanced around, a small fissure of guilt hitting me. I had taken everything. It wasn’t him I was worried about, but his servants. The innocents who would suffer. The villagers to whom he no doubt owed for this party. The butcher, the grocer. They would suffer because he had squandered all the money.

I stood. “Contact my solicitor, Barnett. Make a fair offer on the estate, and I will purchase it. Do not risk any more debt.”

He glared. “I do not need your charity.”

I was puzzled. “You would rather lose another hand, more money, than make an honest trade? Cash for the land and house you agree is worthless.”

“And why are you being so charitable?” he demanded.

Aside from Edward and the old butler, we were alone, the last of the players having become bored and seeking brandy and their own company rather than watch the game between us. The hour was late, and I, too, was tired and wanted this evening over. I got what I came for. My land and apparently a new servant. I had no need to add more hard times to this man—even though I disliked him intensely.

“Because I have grown weary and have lost my taste for the game. Perhaps I can salvage something at Milton Manor—at least, what is left of it.”

“No.”

I shrugged and stood, Edward moving forward to take my winnings from the table. “I will bid you good night, then.”

I left him at the table, grabbing the cards, muttering to himself. He would never figure out how the deck was misprinted. He couldn’t demand retribution without showing his own misdeeds. He couldn’t accuse me of anything for the same reason. It had taken us a long time to figure out the codes and break them, as well as produce an exact match to the cards so he couldn’t tell them apart.

We went upstairs, shutting my door behind me.

“This could get disagreeable if he manages to figure it out.”

“I am aware.”

“I suggest we leave before daylight.”

I nodded, scrubbing my hand over my face. “I believe you are correct, my friend.”

“He can prove nothing without implicating himself. There would be a long line of angry gentlemen after him if word got out he had been duping these games. His life would be forfeit, I think.”

“I know. But best to be safe.”

“I will replace our deck of cards with a duplicate of his own before we leave. He will be even more baffled.”

“Good.” I lit a cheroot, needing the calming action. I exhaled by the window, staring into the darkness.