Page 72 of Rogue Lyon

He looked around the room and spotted the woman with the snake around her neck. It really was an incredible creature. She was talking to the Duke of Newgale, who seemed quite taken with both her and the snake.

Continuing to look around, he spotted Mrs. Dove-Lyon in the shadows of the upper balcony. Dressed all in black and with a veil hiding her face, she was presiding over her establishment with keen, all-seeing eyes.

It was then he spotted Meredith. Her gown was the dark-green, crushed velvet one he’d bought her in Paris to make amends for the one he’d torn in passion. It fitted her curves to perfection and made her pale skin all the more alluring…kissable. She was standing near the stage with her concentration firmly on the chess game.

His heart did a silly, little extra beat and he tensed slightly to stop himself from going over to her.

Having a slap to his cheek, which had shown the imprint of her fingers for the rest of the evening, and having a door slammed in his face was a message he’d received loud and clear.

Stay away.

“Checkmate!” One of the players stood up and punched the air excitedly.

Meredith nodded at the judicator, who held up his right hand. “And the winner is Lord Ralph Mason.”

A cheer went around the room as Lord Ralph stood up and took a bow.

“And the next competitor is the Duke of Newgale.”

A round of applause.

“This must be the last game,” a man to Jules’s right said.

“I haven’t played yet.” Jules glanced at the clock. It was eleven at night.

“Then you will play the winner of this.”

“Yes, you are right.” Jules took a deep breath. The duke was a good player, very good—Meredith had admitted that—and Lord Ralph had just knocked out three other competitors in a row, which meant he was very good also and must have taken some beating.

It would take more than skill, tactics, and strategy for Jules to win against the duke; it would take some luck too.

But luck had been on his side before, many times. He just hoped he hadn’t used it all up.

The crowd talked quietly amongst themselves for the first three-quarters of the match, then when the chess pieces on the board became fewer and Lord Ralph had perspiration shining on his forehead, they became quiet.

Jules shoved his hand into his pocket and fiddled with a coin. Who was to be his opponent? The next few moves would decide it.

He glanced at Meredith. She’d given the duke lessons, but what about Lord Ralph? She’d never mentioned him, so perhaps not.

Suddenly, the duke jumped up and gave a whoop. “Checkmate.”

“Damn and blast.” Lord Ralph slammed his back onto the chair and folded his arms briskly. A frown slashed across his brow.

The judicator looked at Meredith.

She nodded.

Clearly, she was the expert and had to give final say on the winner.

“So that’s that,” Jules said, to himself more than anyone else. “It’s me and the Duke of Newgale fighting it out for victory.”

“May the luck of God be upon you.” The man at Jules’s side squeezed his shoulder. “And should I put a sovereign on you winning?”

“Why not one on us both? We are evenly matched.”

“But…?”

Jules stepped away as his name was called. As he walked past Meredith, he hoped she would acknowledge him, but all he got was a whiff of her sweet perfume. The one he had bought for her.