“With a spade suit like this glued to the table?”
“Painted, actually. It is a very fine table. Antique, and in excellent condition.”
Olivia nodded. She’d expected nothing less. “Without a traditional table here, we’ll have to pretend these cards are permanently fixed.”
“Very well.”
“Would you like to make a wager?” She drew the remainder of the deck to her and looked around for something that might be used as a marker.
Griffin picked up one of the toast triangles and tore it in half. He placed one half on the three of spades and ate the other.
Olivia chuckled. “It is an unusual token, but one supposes that as owner you are able to establish the house rules.”
“Precisely.”
Olivia paused a moment, waiting to see if Breckenridge wanted to rethink his wager or add another. When he simply resumed drinking his coffee, she said, “All bets are down.” She turned over the top card on the remaining deck. It was a five of hearts. “The house wins on all bets placed on the five.” Sighing, she feigned disappointment that he’d placed his wager elsewhere. “I should have liked to eat the winnings.”
“Then you would be stealing from the house,” he reminded her.
“A most excellent point.” She placed the losing card on her right and turned over the next card, a seven of diamonds. “The house pays on all wagers on the seven. It appears you do not win either. Do you wish to make another wager or allow your toast to stand on the three?”
“I’ll allow it to stand.”
“As you wish. All bets are placed.” The next card she turned over—the losing card—was a three of clubs. As the suit in faro was unimportant to the play, it only mattered that the card was a three. “The house wins on all wagers placed on the three. Oh dear, that means you’ve forfeited your toast.”
“How fortunate for me that I am also the house,” Griffin said, picking up the bite-sized piece and dropping it in his mouth. He made a show of enjoying it, too. “Did you force the three so the house would win?”
Olivia took exception to that. The entire line of her body stiffened. “You are asking if I cheated, and the answer is no.”
“But you could.”
She simply stared at him.
“But you could,” he repeated. He picked up his last piece of toast and divided it. This time he made a wager with each half, placing one on the queen and the other in the space above and between the nine and ten, thus splitting that bet. “The next card you draw is the winning card for the punter. I want to win on the queen.”
Olivia’s mouth flattened. She wondered that she had allowed herself to expect something different from him. Her disappointment was sincerely felt, but when she reflected on it, she realized she was more disappointed in herself for lowering her guard than in Breckenridge for taking advantage.
“On the queen,” she said without inflection, looking away. She covered the deck briefly with her palm while she idly stretched and contracted the fingers of her other hand. Lifting her palm, she tapped the deck once with a forefinger then turned over the top card. The queen of diamonds was displayed. “Punter wins on the queen.”
Griffin whistled softly. “You can indeed.” He picked up the piece of toast and set it back on the tray. “The house wins on the next turn. Since I split the bet, you can do it with either the nine or the ten.”
“You do not even make it challenging,” she said coolly. “Choose which card you wish me to show you, the nine or the ten.”
“The nine.”
With no enthusiasm for the task, Olivia laid her palm over the deck again while she absently fiddled with the sleeve of her gown. Out of view her thumbnail fanned the corner of the stack of cards. She lifted her hand.
“Wait,” Griffin ordered. He reached across the table and did what no player would be permitted to do during a turn at faro: He revealed the top card himself. “A four,” he said.
“So it is.”
“You weren’t able to do it that time.”
“That’s the card you lifted,” she said.
“It was on top.”
“Perhaps it was when you reached for it, but when I choose the top card, it looks like this.” She turned it over and displayed the nine of hearts.
