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“No, no. You must have cheated,” Elliot said, sitting forward. Before him, his dreams were being taken. All his winnings were gone in one fell swoop.
The future he was planning for Grace had vanished.
“Did you see me cheat?” Mr Harrington asked, laughing. He didn’t deny it. He just laughed.
Dear God, he did cheat. He just knows I cannot prove it.
Elliot stood to his feet with his hands balled into fists. The suddenness of the movement made Mr Harrington veer back in his seat.
“Violence is not becoming of a duke, Your Grace. I suggest you do not give in to the temptation. I think I’ll cash in my tokens.” Mr Harrington laughed again as he stood to his feet.
Elliot wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at the table, but it took a nudge from Lord Argyll to shake him out of his stupor. Elliot downed another whisky and left the building, swaying on his feet in his drunkenness.
This cannot have happened. To be so close to saving Grace and myself, only to be swindled by a card sharp!
Elliot was furious, so angry that when he left the club, he didn’t look where he was going. He was aware of lamps in the street, and lanterns bobbing to and fro. Carriages passed, horses too in the dead of night, taking people home, but none were there for him. He had to walk home. Without a penny to his name now, he was done for.
“Not possible. Not possible. He cheated!” Elliot hissed aloud in anger.
When he came to a stop, he found himself by the Thames. Standing near the precipice of a wall that overlooked the river, he hesitated, looking at the moonlight glimmering off the water’s surface.
What have I done?
A deep laugh reached his ears. Recognising the sound, Elliot turned around.
“Mr Harrington?” he called.
In the distance, a shadow moved. It was Harrington, who walked toward Elliot.
“In quite a state, aren’t you, Your Grace? Imagine that… a duke losing all his money to a lowly card player like myself.” He chuckled another time and began to walk away.
“Come back. You cheated; I know you did.”
“Ah, but you cannot prove it.”
“You do not deny it!”
“Yet it cannot be proved.” The triumphant smile broke something in Elliot. He reached out for the man, not wanting him to go just yet. They had to finish this conversation. Yet Harrington reacted badly. “Get off me!”
“I am not done talking,” Elliot pleaded.
“I am.”
Elliot felt a blow in his gut. It was sudden and painful, and in his drunken state, he was unable to ready himself. That was when the second blow came, straight to his nose. He heard something crack before he was tipped backward.
“Enjoy your swim, Your Grace.”
Elliot plunged into the water, the coldness enveloping his body like a watery slap to his skin.
***
“Here it is.”
Ophelia looked up from where she was reading, locked away in her room with a candle beside her. She was so certain she had locked her bedchamber door, but apparently, she hadn’t, for Gertrude stood in the doorway now, holding out an ivory-white gown.
“What is that?” Ophelia asked, slowly closing her book. “If that is a wedding gown—”
“It isyourwedding gown. Is it not beautiful?” Gertrude said with a childlike giggle. “Quite stunning, indeed. I made sure the modiste sewed these extra pearls into the hemline, just for you.”
