She bit her lip and leaned forward. “Shall we make this interesting, My Lord?”
He held four aces. In his mind, losing wasn’t even a possibility.
“What do you have in mind, Miss Jackson?” His words came out condescendingly accommodating.
“I probably oughtn’t to wager all of my pin money.” She had to keep herself from snorting as she said the words. Pin money! “But I do have something that might be of value to you.” She went on before he could interrupt her. “My father and I are American,” she tittered as though that ought to come as a surprise to him. “And as such, we are perhaps, somewhat less conventional than you English lords. So I don’t hold a dowry of any sort. Rather, I am half-owner of my father’s Pennsylvania distilling operations. If you’re amenable, I’d like to wager that.”
And then she sat back calmly, paused for just a few seconds, and then nodded, as though she had questioned her wager and then decided to go ahead with it.
Lord Brightley’s eyes narrowed. “To my understanding, your father’s company is lucrative indeed. You say you are half-owner?”
Charley opened her eyes wide. “Without a son, I am my father’s partner and right-hand man.” It was what she’d been striving toward for as long as she could remember, what she’d always wanted. As she spoke the words, however, she realized she now had a different dream.
A better dream. And it was good. She wasn’t giving up, she was moving on.
Lord Brightly pursed his lips and then frowned. “As much as I’d like to meet your bet, you must understand that a goodly portion of my wealth is entailed. What could I possibly have that could be of equal value to your wager?”
Charley touched a hand to just above her décolletage and then higher, to flutter self-consciously along one of the curls that trailed along her cheek.
She then lifted her chin and, taking a deep breath, stared back at the man squarely. “You have the late Lord Westerley’s signature on a contract promising his son to your daughter. I would have you tear it up.”
An audible gasp rolled throughout the room.
Lord Brightley’s brows rose. “Tear up the contract? As a wager?”
She nodded. “As your wager.”
The earl leaned back, his smile so confident that it was clear that the possibility of him losing was farther from his mind than Philadelphia was from London.
“Done.” He grinned.
Charley tilted her head. “Very well. What do you have, my lord?”
One by one, he showed his cards. She’d been correct. Just as he went to reach for the pot, Lord Greystone placed a hand on the earl’s arm, halting him.
“And what do you have, Miss Jackson?”
Ever so slowly, she offered her hand for all to see.
A royal flush.
All hearts.
Chapter 30
WELL DONE, MISS JACKSON
“What the devil?” Lord Brightly gaped at Charley’s cards in shock, a horrified expression twisting his mouth. When he turned to meet his daughter’s eyes, Charley almost felt sorry for him. Felicity rushed across the room to console her father as strong arms literally lifted Charley out of her chair.
She’d done it. Relief rushed through her as she twisted around and slid her arms up and around Jules’ neck. She didn’t care that dozens of Lady Westerley’s guests were looking on. In fact, she was quite beyond caring what anyone else said or thought tonight.
Except for Jules himself, and judging by the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her with affection and pride, she needn’t worry there.
Because having watched the game just now, he would have realized that her father had cheated when he’d wagered for Jules to court her.
And in lieu of that, she swore to herself that whomever Jules decided to marry,ifhe decided to marry, it would behisdecision and nobody else’s.
He’d said he wanted to marry her, but she needed to be absolutely certain that he wasn’t doing it because he’d been compelled to by a lost game of cards.
