An Inadvisable Wager (The Curse of the Weatherby Ball Book 2) Eliza Lloyd (reading books for 7 year olds .TXT) 📖

The next night, Nora was regretting her decision to attend. Her lower back ached. Her feet and her shoes did not agree. But her costume was fabulous, a beautiful shimmery green with appliqued plants at the hem of her garment. Her mask was decorated with a heavy row of silk flowers. She was no Gaia, but she might have passed for a plump Antheia.

“Let me take you to a sitting room. You don’t need to be wandering around bumping into drunken lechers. And I can get you something to drink,” Carlow said.

“I’m going to the library. I wouldn’t mind playing cards. And it will be quiet there.”

“You promise there will be no shenanigans?”

“Carlow, we have coins spilling out our front door. I don’t need to thieve from anyone.”

After Carlow deposited her in the gaming room, Nora glanced around. And what to her wandering eyes did appear: Exeter.

His name had not come up much in the past year. With effort and with a baby on the way and with the marvelous progress that had been made at Henbury Hall, Nora had been able to let much of the crushing anger melt away. But. But there he was. Getting on in years and still the arrogant noble who had caused the family so much pain.

She pushed from the chair and waddled to the table. Nora the Avenger stared out the eyeholes of her mask. There was no satisfaction hiding behind her domino, not when Exeter stood before her. He needed to know who she was. She needed him to know.

“Do you have room for one more?” she asked. The three men at the table stood; one came around to assist her.

“Certainly. We are playing for fairly low stakes. I promise we will play fair,” Viscount Heath said. Oh, this table was full of the best London had to offer, she thought.

“How is your lovely wife, my lord?” she asked. Millicent was here at the ball. Hopefully, Timothy would have the wisdom to keep them far apart. While she loved Millie with all her heart and loved little Jacques even more, she wanted them to have no pain over the past.

“Very well, Lady Carlow. She is here somewhere.”

“What are we playing?” Nora asked.

“Since there are four of us, why not a simple game or two of whist?”

“Oh, no. We need something a little more challenging. Why not vingt-et-un?” she asked. “What say you, your grace? Do you have a preference?”

“As the lady wishes.” He stared down his nose at her and wore a decided smirk.

The rounds of play passed pleasantly enough. Nora’s stack grew slowly. She wasn’t cheating either. She wanted to lure Exeter in. To what purpose she couldn’t say; she’d know it when she saw it.

When Carlow entered some twenty minutes later, he approached the table, but she shook her head, warning him to stay away. He didn’t. He took their drinks and found a cushioned seat nearby.

Several hands later, she sensed the men were getting restless. Nora had no real plan. She just wanted to show Exeter that he still couldn’t best a Blasington.

“One more hand, gentlemen. I don’t want to take all your money, and if we keep playing, that might happen.”

And she wasn’t going to cheat. If she didn’t need to…

“You may try,” Exeter said. “Many have tried.”

“And a few have succeeded,” she prodded.

“Skill isn’t the same thing as cheating.”

“Oh dear! I would have guessed a man of your stature was too wise to be cheated out of anything.”

“I am wise to the ways of scoundrels. It may not be apparent at first glance, but a truly dishonest man will always reveal himself. It may take a day. Or it may take years. Your father, for instance. The infamous George Blasington.”

There was something there, something he was trying to say.

The cards were dealt and the money in the middle of the table grew. Viscount Heath bet heavily on his first card. Nora’s coins were all on the table. Her hidden card was an ace and was as good as any to bet on with a heavy hand due to its flexibility. She pushed coins to the middle as well. Exeter joined them.

After another card landed in front of them all, face up, another round of betting occurred. Exeter had a jack face up, Heath had a ten, Nora a three. The dealer had a nine face up and he withdrew from the betting.

Exeter declined another card. Heath and Nora accepted their next turn.

Heath pushed everything he had to the middle of the table.

Nora pushed her coins and pulled off the beautiful blue gem she was wearing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carlow sit up, elbows braced to his knees. He then swallowed back all the drink that remained in his glass. This was no time to assure him that she had everything well in hand.

Exeter stared at the stack, doubting his play.

“It’s all right if you don’t have enough with you, your grace. I understand.” It was a subtle poke. A little swipe at his pride that might get him to act irrationally. “But that cabochon you are wearing is quite lovely.”

“So it is.” He pulled the ring from his finger, stared at it for a moment, then set it on the stack. “I feel lucky,” he said.

Heath turned his card. Nineteen.

Nora turned hers. Twenty.

Exeter swore. “Eighteen.” He threw his cards to the middle of the table.

Nora reached for the coins and the two rings, pulling them in front of her. “Skill is only eclipsed by luck, and my family has always had a fair share of both.”

“Was it luck that your father was hanged for his crimes?”

“I thought we were talking about card-playing skills. I’m going to have this made into a christening