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The man was a toad, a pompous toad—the apple didn’t fall far from that tree. Hugo did need rescuing. No wonder he was so green, a salamander ready to be eaten.
Toads, though, weren’t cleverer than other animals. One just needed the right lure.
“Because you’ve basically doubled your daughter’s odds. If either you or Mr. Middleton win this hand, you lose nothing. Middleton would’ve received the position anyway, your daughter will receive the husband you want for her, and you’ll be able to give them two horses and the equivalent in coins from Mr. Reed.”
Morris wet his lips and raised his head. He didn’t meet her eye though. Instead, he met Middleton’s wild stare. Ursula had to grind her back teeth so not to smile. They thought they could join forces against her? Permit them to try.
“I’m in.” Reed shoved a pile of coins into the center. He flipped his head around. “Certainly, the most interesting party you’ve ever thrown, J.T.”
“I’m in as well. Does anyone have a note I can write?” Morris asked.
Jay’s father fetched the items, though Ursula didn’t bother to glance at him nor the others along the wall. All her focus had to be on the three in front of her. Every twitch was meaningful.
Middleton made quaking sounds.
“Oh, don’t be a ninny, Silas. You’ve seen her play.” Morris shoved a paper into the man’s hand. “We’ll get them a wedding gift.”
Middleton turned his head to the side. Probably an appeal to Hugo. Ursula bit the tip of her tongue. If Middleton only knew whose side his son was actually on.
“Come now, man.” Morris thumped him on the back.
Middleton acquiesced, and the pot was set. Now all she needed was the cards and hopefully a little bit of luck. She could make do with skill, but if there was ever a time for luck...
She cleared her throat. “We shall have Mr. Reed deal, as he has the least at stake.”
Within moments each player had his five cards. Urs glanced at hers and forced her face blank.
* * *
Jay opened and closed his mouth, but there was no sound. He turned towards Judah, who shrugged. He was mad, they’d all gone mad. One didn’t make bets like this, over children’s futures. Well, people did, but not Urs, not her future.
Reed and Morris each exchanged three cards while Middleton took two. Urs kept all but one.
He eyed her closer. Her cards were down and she was surveying the table, one hand on the spread, the other in her lap. Not a muscle twitched. Her face was neutral and she was absolutely breathtaking. She could be at a tea—well, not Urs at a tea. She could be a woman who was actually good at teas at a tea.
What had she drawn?
“I’ll raise.” Morris was the first to speak, shoving quite a few notes, not coins into the pot. Both Middleton and Reed saw the raise.
Arses, bullying arses, all of them.
All three men eyed Urs. He wouldn’t have been surprised if their tongues hung out and their fangs glistened like the wolves they were, all ready to pounce on their prey and tear her apart. It was so unfair, so incredibly unfair, why had all of them, her father, her uncle, Hugo, permitted her to do this alone?
Not that she couldn’t beat back three real wolves, probably break their necks with her bare hands, but she shouldn’t have to. Also, since when had she started wearing gold? Not that it didn’t suit her, but how much had he missed in less than a week?
“Do you need to fold, Miss Nunes?” Morris was the one to speak, his distaste clear.
What would it be like to have the man’s neck in his hands? He was at least a head taller, two decades younger, and even sick from his own cravings, he could fell the man with one well-placed punch to the temple. This was Delaware and Morris was from Philadelphia so his connections weren’t as strong. A man had the right to protect his own home, didn’t he?
As if they could h
ear his thoughts, both Judah and his father grabbed his arms.
“He’s mine, after the party.” Judah’s words against his ear were welcome, but didn’t return his temperature to its prior state.
“We shall roll some dice for it,” he whispered back.
“Concern yourself with Ursula, not him.” His own father’s advice was sound and the images it conjured, if he could only succeed, that might make him forget—at least for an hour or two.
