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"At least Hanover has the bullocks to take a risk," Lord Shellton pronounced to cheers and laughter of the men in the room.
Not another word was heard again from Lord Hambert after this as all the attention was given to Nicholas now. The room fell silent in anticipation of his answer.
"Gentlemen," Nicholas said, somehow enjoying the power he appeared to be in possession of at the moment. He allowed that single word to settle before deliberately taking a long breath and continuing, "I should say that the new laws’ impact on the increase or decrease of smuggling is a half and half chance. The odds seem quite even here."
The room was contemplatively quiet before Lord Carlton broke it with, "Ay! What manner of response is that, Your Grace? Are you for or against the increase?"
"I say the chances here are equal,” Nicholas said, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his lips at their mixed expressions.
"So what is it on the wager?" Lord Shellton asked.
"I suppose it is moot now," Lord Hanover declared, scratching his greying nape sheepishly. “The duke has put us all to shame.”
"A bit of an anticlimax, if you ask me. I was certainly looking forward to some money being lost tonight," Lord Carlton grumbled.
"Well, at least your five guineas are safe, Hanover,” Lord Hambert chimed in again, having finished his hors d'oeuvres. “Not that it would make any difference in your financial situation." That last statement was more of a whisper but Nicholas heard it clearly and judging his father-in-law’s mien and the color rising to his face, he, too, had heard it.
The silence that settled in the room indicated that all the gentlemen might have heard him, too. Nicholas opened his mouth to put Hambert in his place but Lord Carlton spoke before him.
"The contents of that platter are sure to make a difference on you, Lord Hambert." Everyone’s eyes traveled to Hambert’s paunchy middle which was practically spilling out of his waistcoat. “Forgot to wear our corset today, did we?”
Lord Hambert turned red with anger and mortification, stuttering in concert with the gentlemen's laughter. Nicholas laughed, too, then he glanced at the door.
"Now, go on back to your wife, Your Grace, and quit looking longingly at the door," Lord Shellton said between puffs of his cigar, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing.
“The duchess had stolen His Grace’s heart, I tell you.” Carlton laughed.
Feeling a lot better, Nicholas exited the gentlemen's retreat and strode down the hall to the ballroom. If he could find Jenny and—
“There you are,” came her voice.
He froze and cursed under his breath, turning around. “What do you want Miss Whittaker?”
