The room fell silent for a heartbeat before Lord Mansfield dipped his head. "Of course, Your Grace. My apologies."
Andrew returned to his ledger, but his attention was fractured.
Every number on the page might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all the sense they made. His mind kept drifting to his house, to his chambers, to whether Isobel was asleep yet or if she was still awake, perhaps reading by candlelight in that dressing gown that somehow made her look both modest and utterly devastating.
Stop it. You came here to avoid thinking about her.
But that was proving impossible.
He'd spent the entire week trying to maintain distance, to give her the space she claimed to want, and to prove he wasn't the controlling monster she expected him to be. Yet every night when he returned home, there was a hollow ache in his chest that no amount of brandy could fill.
Andrew scanned the gaming floor, expecting chaos. Instead, he found Lady Holford standing by the hazard table, speaking calmly to a dealer whose hands shook slightly.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Lord Beckett claims the card was misdealt, my lady.”
Annette leaned in, inspected the deck, and straightened. “Reshuffle. Fresh hand. Both players will agree?” Her tone allowed no disagreement.
The two men nodded at once.
Andrew paused mid-step. He had half-expected to be needed. He wasn’t.
A sudden shout rose near the bar. A young lord, flushed from drink, stumbled into a passing servant. Before Andrew could move, Annette caught the man by the elbow.
“My lord,” she said lightly, “if you knock over my staff, I shall charge you double for the brandy.”
The man blinked, then laughed. “Yes, yes—apologies. Carry on.”
She guided him away with effortless ease.
Andrew folded his arms. “When did she learn to do that?” He said to himself.
Across the room, another worker approached Annette with a whisper. She nodded, sent a footman to replace a tired dealer, and turned to check the accounts table next.
Andrew followed her to the back office, lingering by the door as she reviewed a ledger.
“You’ve been busy,” he said.
Annette looked up, surprised. “Your Grace. I thought you’d already left.”
“No.” He stepped inside. “Apparently I’m unnecessary tonight.”
Her brow lifted. “Unnecessary?”
“Well,” Andrew drawled, “I’ve watched you settle disputes, redirect drunks, and reorganize my entire workforce in the span of half an hour.”
Annette closed the ledger. “I’ve been observing you for the past year.”
“Yes, but you’ve never taken the lead like this.”
She hesitated. “You were… occupied, these past weeks. Someone had to ensure things continued running smoothly.”
“And they did,” Andrew admitted. “Better than I expected.”
Annette blinked, clearly taken aback. “That is… very high praise, Your Grace.”
“It’s the truth.” He glanced toward the floor beyond the door.
