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“We can’t deal you in.” Reed gasped at the suggestion.
“We’ve all bid.” Mercy, Middleton’s voice was so much like his son’s, like a nail drawing against a glass pane—and he wanted to force litigants to listen to him from the bench. They’d all probably beg for a speedy execution.
“Give me five bloody cards, Middleton,” Jay snapped.
“Is that even permitted?” Was Middleton seriously going to quibble over rules and regulations for an activity which was illegal in itself?
“This is my house.” The words were an unfamiliar bellow. The room fell into silence until his father stepped forward, off the wall. “Give my son five cards.”
“He has to buy in and again, the hand has already started.” Morris glared.
Philadelphians really were the worst.
“Fine, it doesn’t matter, whatever it requires. What do we have—Urs’ two new stallions and a five percent stake in Nunes, a circuit court judgeship, Hugo Middleton’s hand, and Reed’s initial buy-in plus the raises?” He straightened his shoulders.
Urs closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose, as if tolerating a bunch of unruly children.
“Yes, and as you can see, this is not a hand for you, despite what your father said. You’re too late, Jay, at least for this round. I raise.” She slipped off her bracelet and placed it in the center of the table.
The men all glanced at each other, though no one dared challenge nor inquire regarding the value of the item.
Reed was the first to speak. “I fold. This has really nothing to do with me.”
Fine, wondrous, one down, two more until he had all her attention.
“Urs. It isn’t too late. It can’t be too late. I’m here and I love you and I’ll do anything. I’ll cut off my own arm. You don’t have to marry me. You don’t have to marry anyone, I mean you deserve to marry someone, just someone worthy.”
“And my son isn’t worthy?” Could Middleton and everyone else be quiet for two minutes?
Jay closed his eyes. Headache, the entire situation was a massive headache. If, no when—when he convinced her they needed to be together, that it was the best course of action for both of their sanities, he’d find a way to convince her to massage his temples. Naked.
Bollocks. No—task at hand. He turned to Middleton.
“Your son doesn’t love her and she doesn’t love him. They’ve both already told each other that.”
“Yes, we did.” Hugo’s voice was calm and a great deal more pleasing than his father’s. He stepped up to the table, at his father’s side, between him and Reed. “I don’t love Katherine either, don’t even like her. I like Ursula, but, Father—I’m, um.” He tugged at his collar.
Middleton folded his arms, leaning in his seat so he could glare at his son. “Yes?”
Hugo cleared his throat. “No one should be forced into a marriage with someone they despise. I know the judgeship is important to you and Mother and everyone, but there has to be another way. I’ll sell anything and everything I own to make it up to the family. Ursula shouldn’t be the one at the table, nor Jay. It should be me. It should’ve been me from the beginning. I should be able to rescue myself. I haven’t accomplished that and have a long way to go, but no matter what happens in this game I’m not getting married to anyone, at least not now.”
Middleton held the glare for a long beat before his lips turned at the corner. Affection and admiration for his son came into his eyes before he turned back to the table. He placed a finger to his lips. “Well then, I suppose I shall be taking your hand out of the pot.”
“You have to replace it with something of equal or greater value.” Morris’ tone suggested he was fit to be tied, or ready to throw something—something expensive he was supposed to inherit someday.
Jay rose and strolled over to Middleton’s other side, right next to Urs. “How about I buy his stake then? I’ll take his cards and trade places. Again, this is my father’s house so there should be some deference, provincial or not.”
Morris banged a fist on the table. “This is ridiculous.”
“This is quite serious.” His own father strolled next to the man, towering, his height not quite Jay’s, but impressive in its own right “I’m placing this entire house in the pot.”
For the love of all that was holy. Jay blinked back tears. His father. His father believed or trusted or wanted or cared or loved—he’d never, ever—the glint in his father’s eye, the tone, there was almost pride.
“I—” For once Jay couldn’t put two words together.
“I have faith in you,
Jay.” He leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “She trusts you so please, please, please don’t make a mess of this. Show her what she values, what’s important to her.”
