Alston appeared at his side. Tristan pushed to his feet and Peter gave him a nod.
“If you’re finished for the evening, I’ll secure this in the cage.”
“I’m done,” Tristan said, his head growing light. Alston grabbed his shoulder and gave him a little shake.
“You’re insane,” he said, but he was smiling. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“That’s because it’s not possible. You rigged the game. You cheated,” Revere accused as he pushed his way to Tristan.
Peter straightened. “Sir, to accuse another player of cheating is a grave offense to this club.”
“I don’t bloody care. I was invited here to play as a special guest and now I’ve been fleeced!”
“Mind your words, chap,” Alston warned. “You’ve no friends here.”
“Who the devil are you?” Revere spat.
Lord Alston folded his arms. “Your nightmare, if you’d like me to be.”
Tristan stepped between them. “We don’t need to do this here.”
Boos and grumbling answered. The gamblers wanted action and drama.
“Correct, we can do this at dawn,” Revere threatened. “I’ll collect my winnings and my fiancée now.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
Tristan laughed. “She was never yours, Revere. She’s always been mine. Now, you can stuff your ignorant words back down your throat and leave with a little dignity intact, or I can do it for you.”
Revere pressed closer. “This isn’t over. I always get what I want. You’re nothing but common London slag. No honor, no money, no—”
“I’m a Scotsman,” Tristan said. “I carry the honor of Scotland wherever I go. Unless you’d like your final resting place to be in a bog somewhere in the Highlands, you’ll speak carefully.”
“This isn’t done.”
“Good. I’d like more opportunities to hurt you,” Tristan said quietly. “But not with so many witnesses about.”
Revere shoved away from him and the other men pushed him back and forth until he was out of sight.
“Let’s get out of here,” Blakewood said. “The ladies are waiting.”
Tristan led the way. Helena caught his attention and showed them to the private parlor in the ladies’ area.
“Be quick,” she said. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon wants a word.”
Tristan entered the parlor and froze midway across the room.There she was. Lady Amelia sat beside Flick on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hand.
“I thought we ought to escape the melee,” Lady Amelia said.
“Good idea,” Blakewood agreed.
Flick stood and walked, as fast as her dress would allow, andleaped into his arms. Tristan spun her around and his mouth caught hers. He set her down and she grinned brighter than he’d ever seen.
“I can’t believe you won.”
“I think luck had a bit to do with it,” he teased. He wanted to kiss her again, but—he looked around the room. They were alone, the door closed. Bless Lady Amelia. He’d name his first daughter after her.
“I couldn’t bear to watch, but I couldn’t look away either,” she said.
