“Bloody Frenchie, I say you’re cheating,” the man across from her said suddenly, his words slurred, when Evie won another trick. She battled over what to say, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but she must say something.
“Unless you have proof, Moore, I suggest you retract those words,” Lord Hamilton said before Evie could speak. “Losing because you are drunk does not allow you to insult another because they are winning clearheaded.”
“H-How dare you speak to me like that?” Moore staggered to his feet. “You of all people. A man with no morals, and a—”
“I would not continue that sentence were I you,” Lord Hamilton said. His words came out like the crack of a whip. “How I live my life is my business.”
“That Frenchie—”
“Apologize at once, Moore,” Lord Hamilton demanded.
Considering his reputation, it was a surprise he was demanding an apology on her behalf… well not her, but still.
Whatever Moore saw in Lord Hamilton’s face had him uttering an apology, and then he was stumbling toward the door.
“My thanks,” Evie said.
“I’d advise you to stand up for yourself, Renee. Being a weak-kneed simpleton will get you stomped on,” Lord Hamilton advised.
And suddenly, any softening she may have felt for this man was gone. How dare he call her a weak-kneed simpleton.
“Well now, it seems this seat is vacant.” Evie’s entire body tensed at the nasal draw. Not only was she at a table with Lord Hamilton, but now Lord Cavendish had joined them.
Chapter Seven
Anthony didn’t lookat Cavendish. Instead, he nodded for the dealer to begin a new game. He’d been enjoying the play until Moore had called Renee a cheat. The Frenchman was a skilled player, if a coward for not standing up to Moore, but now that Cavendish had arrived the game had lost its appeal.
“How is the luck tonight, Hamilton?”
“I don’t believe in luck,” Anthony replied to Cavendish. “Winning takes skill, which I have.”
They both knew what had happened all those years ago, and that the tables of power had turned between them. Anthony no longer feared this man, and Cavendish knew it, even as he tried to intimidate him. Cavendish was now the weaker of the two of them.
There had been times over the years Anthony, Jamie, and Toby had made life extremely uncomfortable for the men who had treated them no better than animals.
“Lady Luck is always with me, Hamilton,” Cavendish drawled.
“Please accept my condolences, Cavendish. I hear your investment did not show the expected returns,” Anthony said with no sympathy. “I believe one of the larger investors pulled out.”
“How did you hear about that?” Cavendish snapped, laying a card which had him losing the trick, and Renee winning.
The Frenchman spoke little and instead concentrated on winning, which he was doing a great deal of this evening.
Anthony smiled, knowing it would not reach his eyes. “Nothing goes on in London relating to business opportunities that I do not know about. It would pay you to remember that.”
Cavendish’s lips drew into a hard line, and the hand he had rested on the table fisted. “You?” He scoffed. “All you care about are whores and alcohol.”
“That is not very nice,” Renee said in halting English.
“Who are you to speak to me that way?” Cavendish snarled, turning his attention from Anthony to the Frenchman, seeing an easier quarry to argue with. “What is your name?” Cavendish demanded.
“Mr. Renee,” the man said in French.
“Speak English!” Cavendish snapped. “Can’t abide foreigners who come to my country and don’t speak the language.”
Renee uttered a few words in French, which Anthony interpreted loosely to mean Cavendish was a fool with low intelligence, to which he replied “Oui” in total agreement.
“What did you just say?” Cavendish demanded. Clearly his French was not good.
