“That’s enough,” Bram says coldly.
“You don’t need to stand up for me,” I reply. “He is right.”
“She’s playing on my account, and you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves,” Bram says loud enough that heads turn around the room. “I call.”
The dealer pulls another card. The queen of hearts. We go around the table again in tense silence. I raise. Lord Hambleton scoffs audibly.
“She’s welcome to spend every last shilling I have,” Bram says. “Which, if I recall correctly, is several million more than you.”
I fold on the next go-round. My hand is bad, and I don’t need Bram to defend me over nothing.
Bram and Hambleton go back and forth for a while, but Hambleton takes it in the end. He extends both arms to pull the pot of chips toward him, and I catch a glimpse of something in his sleeve.
Without thinking, I lean over and yank an ace out of the silk lining of his jacket. The table goes still. “You were cheating,” I say.
“You bitch,” Hambleton snarls.
There’s a mighty crash behind me as a chair is toppled and Bram launches himself at Hambleton, throwing his body against the table and sending chips flying. Bram punches him once in the face, then again. The lord’s nose cracks, sending a spray of blood across the cards.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Bram!” I shout, then throw myself onto his back in an attempt to pull him off.
“Ivy!” I turn to see Emmett sprinting across the room.
He pushes through the gathering crowd and lifts me off of Bram, then sets me down safely before pulling Bram off of Lord Hambleton.
“What is going on?” he pants, wild-eyed, in the middle of Bram and Lord Hambleton with his arms extended.
Lord Hambleton landed only one punch, but it split Bram’s lower lip open. He licks away the blood. “He called Ivy a bitch.”
Emmett’s eyes flash, and he punches Lord Hambleton squarely across the face. The man stumbles back, collapsing against the table.
A whistle blows, and the club manager, a portly man in his fifties, barrels into the room. “That’s enough!” he bellows. “I think you’d best be going, Your Highnesses.”
Bram pulls his coat from the back of his chair and wipes the blood from his knuckles. “Gladly.”
The three of us pile into a carriage. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say to both of them. “I’m perfectly capable of throwing my ownpunches.” I don’t add that the only person I’ve ever punched is Lydia, and not since I was ten, but I do feel confident I could do it.
“Hardly the first brawl we’ve gotten into,” Emmett says.
“Not even the first brawl in that room,” Bram adds. He licks his split bottom lip and it knits itself together, healing right before my eyes.
He notices my shocked expression and laughs. “One of my better party tricks.” He glances down at my dress. “Oh no, we’ve gotten blood on you.”
There’s a small splatter above my heart, probably from when I flung myself onto Bram’s back.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” I say. “I have so many now.”
Bram brushes my skirt with his index finger, and the stain disappears, my dress turning from a pale lilac to a deep burgundy. “This brings out your eyes more.” He smiles.
Gas lamps flicker at the doors to the palace. Emmett walks directly inside, giving Bram and me a stolen moment alone.
“Thank you,” I say. “You didn’t have to defend my honor tonight. I was being a bit of a bitch.”
Bram laughs. “He deserved it, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to deck him for a while. You did me a favor.”
He takes a step closer, his face so perfect it still knocks me off my axis. It’s like I’m always caught on the wrong foot with him. He looks at me, gaze flickering down to my lips. My eyes drop closed as he leans in, but his lips just barely brush the top of my cheekbone.
