Nicholas’ next four thousand pounds came all from the earl. The other players had left the game but lingered to watch. The earl had shed his coat and his vest, then pushed up his sleeves. His brow was damp and his hand shook when he reached for his wine. He played with a reckless abandon that he should not have trusted, repeatedly declaring his conviction that his luck would change.
It did not.
Nicholas was aware of the tide of emotions in the room. There were those, assuredly, who did not like the earl and actively wished for his defeat. There were others offended that a mere officer was not only in their club but daring to win. There were whispers of the earl’s familiarity with the moneylenders of Howard and Gibbs, and Nicholas half-heard a mention of the wager about his sister at White’s. Of course, someone mentioned his challenge to Melbourne, which was viewed as either an excellent endorsement of his character or an example of a soldier reaching beyond his place. The air fairly swirled with innuendo, but Nicholas kept his eyes on the cards.
Finally, against every expectation, the earl cast down his hand with disgust. He had lost again, and Nicholas had won nine thousand pounds in the course of the evening. The earl was teased by his fellows that his jacket was of some value and scowled at them for that. The hour was late, or early, and Nicholas thought it a timely moment to leave the club.
“Not so quickly as that, sir,” the earl protested. He drew himself up taller in his seat, his expression belligerent. “I play for Greenhaven.”
“Greenhaven?” Nicholas repeated, not knowing the name.
“The manor at Queenston and my family home. You will not win that from me, sir. My ancestors would not permit such affrontery.”
“I have nothing of such value to wager against it.”
The earl smiled. “I will accept every penny you have won on this night as your wager.”
A manor!
Nicholas was sorely tempted, but took a moment to consider his course. It was greed that destroyed the futures of players, an obsession with gains that kept them from leaving the table when it was prudent to do so. His father had often lost his way in the tangled pathways of avarice and honor, and Nicholas had lived with the result. But his thoughts were clear on this night, and if he lost, he would lose only what had not been his mere hours before.
It was a risk to take.
“I accept,” he said and gestured for the cards to be dealt.
For this match, the room was silent, tense with the interest of those who gathered to watch. No one so much as coughed and play proceeded quickly. Even the earl seemed to have regained his wits: he played with a surety he had not shown earlier. But still the cards loved Nicholas. The game tended steadily in his direction, gaining vigor with each passing moment. The earl laid down his final hand with a flourish and a dare in his expression.
And Nicholas bested him readily.
The gamesroom broke into cheers and guffaws. The earl’s face turned ruddy and he might have charged from the table, but Nicholas spoke. “A moment, my lord.”
“I go to arrange your payment, as befits a gentleman,” the earl said with acrimony.
“And I cannot accept Greenhaven,” Nicholas said, seeing relief light the older man’s eyes. “I know what it is, sir, to surrender a beloved holding and I will not bring that plight to any other man.”
“But I have lost and you must have your gain.”
“I could not accept more than nine thousand pounds, which was the sum of my own wager.”
The earl smiled and offered his hand across the table. “I accept your offer, sir, and salute your gamesmanship.”
The room dissolved into murmurs of satisfaction and Nicholas’ hand was shaken by every member of the club present. But thirty minutes later, he was leaving with Haynesdale, matching his pace to that of the duke. The night was quiet and the air cool. A fog was rolling in from the river and Haynesdale waved down the sole hackney on the street.
“Well done, Emerson,” he said once they were in the cab and en route to Haynesdale House. “I never saw a man so fortunate as you at cards.” He shook his head. “Eighteen thousand pounds. What shall you do with such a sum?”
“I have a notion,” Nicholas admitted. “But first there is a task to be done.”
“Ah yes, the unfortunate Melbourne.”
“He is not unfortunate as yet.”
“I have little doubt that he soon will be. Will you aim to kill or simply to maim?”
Nicholas smiled. “I thought to give him a warning.”
Haynesdale nodded approval. “Of course, he is likely to be more serious. I wonder what his skill might be.”
“We shall learn soon enough.”
