He dug his watch from his pocket.
Five minutes to eleven.
Five minutes from now, Tilly would be standing on the corner of Piccadilly and St. James’s, waiting for him.
Trusting him to be there.
And one thing he understood with more clarity than he’d felt since entering White’s tonight was he would never break Tilly’s trust.
Not even for another winning roll of the dice.
Again, he felt the dice in his hand.
This time, he set them on green baize without rolling.
This was a first.
Not once in his life had he ever left a table when he was on a winning streak.
The crowd gathered round the table groaned, but this determination inside him had turned into hard-tempered steel.
“What is this?” exclaimed Whitty, looking confused and betrayed.
“Come with me,” said Rhys. He knew that wild, reckless glint in his friend’s eyes. His blood was het up with the need for more action tonight.
“On to Brooks’s, then?” Whitty began nodding, as if he’d answered his own question. “Excellent idea. Got to spread the luck.”
“Actually,” said Rhys, “I have another idea.”
Whitty’s eyes went even brighter. “Oh?”
Doubt pinged through Rhys. When he’d devised this plan for his second noble deed, perhaps he’d focused on the idealized version rather than the realities, for Whitty was practically panting with excitement, like his best bosom friend was about to present him with a night that was truly novel, possibly the best night of his life.
That was the gambler’s dream, wasn’t it?
Always chasing the best luck.
Always chasing the best night of their life.
Always chasing, never looking back and realizing their best, most lucky night had been the first night all those years and nights ago.
But perhaps this night would be the luckiest, just not in the way Whitty expected.
Perhaps his friend would look back on this night as the one that finally got his life moving in a meaningful direction.
Perhaps.
“Follow me.” Rhys’s feet were already on the move.
He didn’t look back.
He now had three minutes to be on that street corner, and as much as he wanted to have done with his second noble deed, Tilly was the bigger priority.
If Whitty followed, he followed.
If he didn’t, he didn’t.
When had the priorities in Rhys’s life so rearranged themselves that Tilly was now at the top?
