“Neither of us are tired yet. I thought we might play a lively game of cards that is popular in America without suffering the British art of backhanded compliments.”
He cracked a small smile and nodded to the chair across from him. “Then sit and teach me how to play. We cannot have you becoming too civilized.”
She scoffed and shuffled the cards. “And there it is again, that British backhand. I must learn how to cloak my insults if I am to fit in.”
“You will be fine with your blunt personality and inability to hold back any thought that passes through your mind.”
“I have held back a great many thoughts every time I speak to you.” She gave him a sweet smile and put the cards face-up in front of her. “Poker is about betting, and since we are without money, I suggest that we bet with truths.”
“And how does one bet with truths?” Windham drummed his fingers on the worn table. His borrowed shirt hung too loosearound his body, the neckline drooping low enough to show a hint of his muscled torso.
Isabelle kept her eyes trained anywhere other than his chest. “If I win a hand, you may ask me any question and I will tell you the truth.”
“And if you win the hand I will be expected to tell you the truth?”
The candle flickered between them as she nodded, her gaze connecting with his. It felt like butterflies were making their way through her stomach, beating their wings and making her lightheaded.
She cleared her throat and focused on spreading the cards to show him the faces. “We both get cards. There are several ways to win. Five of a kind is the best. You want to draw four of one card and a wild card.”
He nodded, studying her as she pointed to combinations that would constitute five of a kind. “All right. Four of one and a wild, or three of one and two wilds, and so on.”
She went through the rest of the possible hands he could have, and which was better before shuffling the cards once more. After dealing five cards to each of them, she nestled back in her chair.
“We each bet one truth to start. If I believe that my cards are better than yours I will bet you two truths, you can either call, raise, or fold.”
“Fine. One truth to start then.” He looked down at his cards, and though she tried to study the expression on his face, he gave nothing away.
Isabelle looked at her own cards. She had three of a kind and she knew she was likely to lose. She flipped a card from the stack, leaving it face up in the middle of the table. “Two truths.”
Windham sighed and checked his cards once more. “Three truths.”
She studied him for a moment, staring at the hard set of his jaw. It might have been the first time that she had ever seen mischief in his eyes as he looked into hers. She suspected that he had a better hand, but if she could bluff him into folding, then she would win.
“Four truths.” She turned over another card, smirking when the possibilities of him having four of a kind went down.
He scowled at her. “I fold.”
“You owe me three truths then, Your Grace,” she said his title with a teasing tone as she gathered the cards and set them to the side. “What shall I ask you?”
“You could ask whatever you like and if it is within my power, I will answer.”
Isabelle leaned closer to him from across the table. “How much trouble is the duchy in?”
He flinched at her question and stared at her for a few moments longer, his mouth opening and shutting several times. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed.
“How much do you know?”
She shrugged and stared at the flickering candle, not wanting to meet the duke’s eyes and feel her heart take off again. “I know that my father is offering you a lot of money to find me a husband. I know that he is going to continue payments to you for the first year after I am married, but that most of the sum is going to come at the start of my marriage.”
Windham cleared his throat. “Where did you learn of that?”
“And here I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions.” Isabelle traced the wood grain of the table, dodging his question.
While her father may have told her some of the truth, she had discovered the rest of it while eavesdropping on conversations with her parents.
The Duke sighed. “If I do not get the money your father has said he will pay me, then I will have to let go of half of my staff before winter. The other half will last until the following winter.”
“Your situation cannot be that dire if you are able to put forward the money for your sister to enter the season.”
