Page 8 of Rogue Lyon

“Thank you.” He smiled at her. Perhaps having a woman dealer here at the Lyon’s Den would bring him luck.

Lysander walked around their table. It seemed he was keeping a close eye on the new lady dealer.

Keeping his expression thoroughly neutral, Jules watched the other men at the table pick up their cards and look at them. He wanted to see the first tiny expressions of his competition.

Beard Man twitched his chin, his beard shifting a fraction. The man in glasses, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, and the other man stayed perfectly still.

Jules went back to his own hand. Not bad but not good enough, he suspected.

“Sir,” the woman dealer said.

“Please. Mr. Habsburg. Jules Habsburg.” He smiled at her and set his free hand on his chest.

“Mr. Habsburg. Are you playing or folding?” Her voice was sweet with a slightly singsong accent he couldn’t quite place.

“I’ll play.” He switched a card. It was an improvement.

The player next to him did the same.

So did the next one but not the third.

Which was unusual. Did he have a flush or a run or maybe even a pair? It couldn’t be a prial, the top winning hand, as Jules himself had one of the three threes needed for that.

The dealer looked at them each in turn, again her eyes settling on each man.

He shifted his weight on the seat. He was a fine-looking chap, he knew that, had been told often enough, but she wasn’t studying his strong jawline, wide shoulders, or fine suit. This was something else.

She was really looking at him. As if trying to read his thoughts, his face, and his body language.

“And again?” she asked him. He was to her left so the first to go each time.

“I’ll play.” He tilted his chin and swapped another card.

Someone brushed past his shoulder.

The woman with the snake stopped at the next table.

“Sir?” the dealer asked Beard Man.

He too played, though not the next man or the third.

After a few more minutes, it was time to show hands.

Jules presented first. Not bad. A flush. Three hearts.

Beard Man had a pair, so he’d lost.

Glasses Gentleman displayed a running high. A queen and two lower numbers.

Jules felt his heart rate quicken. So far, so good.

Until third man flipped his hand, revealing a running flush.

“Damn it,” Jules muttered as he watched his coins shift from his side of the table to the other.

“Another game, gentlemen?” the dealer asked.

He nodded and set a gold coin on the table. The atmosphere shifted slightly as the stakes were raised.