Isadora’s grip on the armrest tightened.The game.That was all this was to them. A silly game.
“It’s all about knowing your opponent, My Lord. Some men fold too easily. Others don’t know when they’ve already lost.” Hartenshire continued on as though he was delivering some great wisdom when all it was tiresome and cliched nonsense.
She could hardly stand it.
“And which are you, My Lord?” Isadora cut in, knowing full well that her father would not appreciate the interruption.
Hartenshire turned his head toward her, narrowing his eyes.
“That, Lady Isadora,” he drawled, “depends on the stakes.”
“Now, now,” George barked out a laugh, waving a hand. “You must forgive Isadora, Harry. She’s always been far too serious. Takes after her mother, God rest her soul.”
Isadora’s chest burned, but she kept her spine straight. George had better keep her mother out of this, or she would lose her cool entirely.
“A woman with a sharp mind. That is a rare thing, My Lord. Most are content with embroidery and gossip.” Hartenshire glanced at Isadora again. “Tell me, Lady Isadora, do you enjoy games of chance?”
“I prefer certainty, My Lord,” Isadora replied without missing a beat.
“Ah, but certainty is dull, is it not? Life ismeantto be unpredictable,” he argued.
“Not where my sister is concerned,” Isadora countered coolly.
She felt the tension grow in the room. Penelope kept her eyes trained to the ground, and George glared at Isadora before breaking into an awkward chuckle.
“Behave now, Isadora. There’s no need to be like this. The Lord has expressed a genuine admiration for your sister. What more could we ask for in a suitor?”
Hartenshire shifted his attention back to Penelope. “She is a delicate thing,” he mused. “A rare bloom. You must be very protective of her, Lady Isadora.”
Penelope attempted to break the tension with a light laugh though it came out slightly strained. “I suppose I am fortunate to have a sister who cares so much for my well-being.”
“Fortunate, indeed,” Hartenshire smirked.
Isadora hated the way he said it. And even more, she hated him.
“Now, Harry, tell me—how are your business ventures faring?” George attempted to change the topic.
“Quite well, I must say,” the Lord replied smugly. “There’s always money to be made where men lack restraint.”
“The key is knowing where to place your bets,” George nodded.
“Exactly, My Lord. And I’ve learned that nothing of value is ever won by waiting,” he replied, his eyes flicking to Penelope.
“I heard whispers that you’ve had a bit of bad luck in certain circles, Harry. Shall I assume those rumors are exaggerated?” George asked.
“A temporary inconvenience. I always find a way to come out on top,” the Lord dismissed the notion entirely, and George did not push him further for any sort of explanation.
Isadora wanted to scream at the callousness that was being displayed by the man who was supposed to look after them.
This is what he is, Father. A man who will gamble everything—including my sister. Why is this not obvious to you?
But George either did not see it or refused to acknowledge the truth. Instead, he clapped Hartenshire on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. A man should never let a little misfortune deter him,” he grinned.
“Nor should a man waste time when he knows what he wants,” Hartenshire added hastily.
It occurred to Isadora then: this was not about Penelope, it was abouthim. George wanted this match because it would bringhimfavor. Because it would solidifyhisposition among men of influence.
Because it suitedhim.
