“As you wish.” Henry shrugged.
“Cheer up, Hudsyn; you’re on a winning streak. Why do you always look as though someone strangled your dog?” Lord Craventhorp pushed back strands of dark hair from his face.
“What’s it to you, Craventhorp?” Henry snarled.
Craventhorp narrowed his steel gray eyes, brought his cigar to his lips, and inhaled deeply, sucking in his already-hollow cheeks. Seconds later, he exhaled a cloud of smoke in Henry’s face. “Someone ought to remind you of your place in the hierarchy,BaronHudsyn.”
Henry sprang up. “Remind me? You are a bankrupted viscount who believes himself a duke.”
Craventhorp stood up and removed his jacket. “And you are in need of a good thrashing.”
“Come now, sit down. You’re causing a scene.” Burdington tugged at Henry’s sleeve.
Henry ignored his friend, pulled off his jacket, threw it on his chair, and began to roll up his sleeves.
“Now, gentlemen, calm down! You know the rules. No fighting in this here fine establishment.” Madame Katrina’s lithe form stepped between them, silencing both men. She possessed a regal air about her, more becoming to a lady than a madame. She snapped her fingers, and two buxom girls—one blond and one ginger—appeared on either side of her. “Something to cool your tempers, sirs?”
Henry glanced at the big-breasted blond and shook his head.
“Hudsyn’s afraid of whores,” Craventhorp sneered. “Never used to be, did you, Hudsyn?”
Henry moved aggressively forward, but Madame Katrina’s hand stayed him. “My girls are certified clean; you know that.”
“Of course.” Henry inclined his head. “But Hobsworth is about to deal a new hand. Perhaps I will indulge later.”
Madame Katrina smiled and waved away the blond courtesan. “How about you, Lord Craventhorp?”
“Certainly, madame. I’ve played enough cards for tonight.” Craventhorp eyed the ginger-haired harlot. “I haven’t seen her before. Is she new?”
“Her name is Ivy,” Madame Katrina said pointedly. “She’s only been with me two weeks. You be gentle with her,” she warned.
“Naturally.” He grinned as he clutched the girl by the elbow and steered her away like a prized mare.
Henry took his seat. Madame Katrina smiled at the three remaining men. “It seems all is settled, then. I’ll leave you to your game, gentlemen,” she said before sashaying across the room.
“Craventhorp is right, you know.” Hobsworth glanced at Hudsyn. “You’ve changed.”
Henry swallowed the sting of his friend’s comment. A little over two years ago, he’d learned a dark secret about his past—one that ended his carefree existence. His ever-righteous mama had put a question mark over his legitimacy when he discovered that she’d committed adultery with a degenerate poet, who’d bedded both courtesans and ladies alike and spent his final days in an asylum riddled with syphilis. Although his father died never having discovered the secret, ever since Henry had learned the truth, anger gnawed at him daily. His mother had not only betrayed his father, but she’d also turned Henry into a fraud.
Henry glanced at Hobsworth, who still shuffled the cards. “Do you intend to deal those cards or use them to keep your hands warm?” he snapped.
Hobsworth shook his head and dealt.
*
Forty-five minutes andseveral rounds later, Hobsworth threw down his hand of cards. “There’s no winning against you tonight, Hudsyn.”
“Agreed.” Burdington held up both hands.
“Fine by me.” Henry swallowed his brandy and pocketed his winnings.
“Don’t pack it all away yet, lads. I’m ready for another round.” Craventhorp swaggered toward the table.
“What? Are you back already?” Henry snorted. “That was fast.”
Craventhorp plunked onto his chair and cracked his knuckles. “Deal the cards, Hudsyn, and make it quick. I promised the father of my bride that I’d make an appearance at Lady Dawley’s tonight.”
“Yourwhat?” Hobsworth leaned forward in his chair.
