Page 134 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

He shrugged. “Clothing.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“If not clothing then you could extend me a loan.”

“A cobnut loan,” she said flatly.

“It is called accepting vowels.”

“Hmph.” Stacia stared at her bowl of cobnuts, her mind stuck on his first suggestion. She cleared her throat and then looked up to find him giving her the sort of knowing smirk that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Well, who cared if he knew?

“How does one play with clothing as counters?”

Forty-five minutes later…

Stacia looked from her cards to his. And then looked at them again. And then she looked up at Lord Shelton—who was still fully clothed.

She shook her head. “I-I don’t understand what I am doing wrong this time. I did so well before—with the cobnuts.”

“Lady luck is fickle,” he said, giving her a sympathetic look that she did not believe for an instant.

Stacia could not seem to catch her breath. Nor could she meet his gaze, which had gone from lazily amused to distinctly predatorial. She looked instead at the pile of garments beside her. And the shoes on the floor. Although he had allowed her to don her bonnet, gloves, pelisse, scarf, and cloak before they began playing, she was still down to her dress, petticoat, stays, stockings, and chemise. Six more items.

A thought struck her. “What about my g-garters?”

He grinned. “Those count.”

“And my hair pins?” she asked, not caring that her face was flaming at having said garters. “Surely they count?”

“Hmmm.” He tapped his chin.

“Two pins equal one garment?” she asked hopefully.

He cut a glance at her hair.

Something told Stacia that he knew more about how many hairpins a woman needed than she did.

“Three pins equal a garment,” he said.

Stacia exhaled raggedly. Surely her luck would turn by then. Earlier, when they had used cobnuts, she had beaten him every sing—

Her head whipped up. “You—you’ve tricked me!”

His eyebrows rose and his expression grew haughty. “Are you accusing me of cheating, Miss Martin?”

“No—of course not. I didn’t mean—” And then she saw the slight curve of his lips and gave a huff of disgust. “You know exactly what I mean. You purposely lost earlier, didn’t you?”

“Now you are calling me a Captain Sharp?” He gave her a hurt look.

“I cannot believe you!”

He grinned. “All is fair in love and cards.”