Georgbecame very still.
A very old memory of a seedy little inn in the middle of the Alps resurfaced. Georg closed his eyes. He saw a boyish pair of hands perform precisely the same shuffling trick. The same peculiar rhythm.
“I will show you how a proper English gentleman plays cards.” It was clear the stiff-mannered youth had very little experience when it came to serious gambling, but the lad did know how to shuffle cards, even though he did so in a very unusual way. First, he riffled them in a waterfall, then he shuttled them together rapidly, interrupting each shuffle by tapping one deck against the other, which created a peculiar rhythm: snap-snap-snap-clap. Riffle.
She dealt the cards into packets of threes, so that each player received nine cards. The tip of her tongue peeked out at the corner of her mouth as she immersed herself in her cards.
“You appear to be unusually adept at handling cards,” Schneider said with half a laugh. “One could think I’m sitting at the table of some gentleman’s gambling club.”
Georg narrowed his eyes. “Indeed. Where did you learn to play cards?”
“My brother taught me, naturally.”
She fanned her cards, Schneider picked up his cards and studied them, and Georg, for the life of him, felt like not only the rug, but the entire floor had been pulled from underneath him.
“Naturally,” he said with difficulty.
Her brother had taught her.
Her brother.
Himmelherrgottkreuzdonnerwetternochmal!
He lifted a shaking hand to cover his eyes and sat back with a repressed groan.
“Are you well, Your Excellency?”
“He doesn’t seem so well. He probably has an upset stomach. I thought he looked somewhat pale earlier. Maybe he ate too much of that hideous fishy fare for supper. For the life of me, I fail to understand why you would insist on eating such evil stuff.”
“Caviar is usually considered a food fit for emperors, Miss Honeywell,” Schneider said.
“No, it’s not. It’s the worst kind of food one can possibly eat. It is utterly foul. You might as well swallow fish eyes whole.”
A groan escaped him.
“Your Excellency?”
He finally lowered his hands and turned to Schneider. “Please, shoot me at dawn.”
“Is it that bad? I ate quite a bit of it myself and appear to be fine.”
“For my unparalleled idiocy.”
“What an excellent idea,” Lady Evie said cheerfully as she handed him his pack of cards. “I’d love to watch. But before we do so, can we finish this game? What are the stakes?”
Chapter Eleven
Georg was thoroughly horrified.
At himself, mainly.
He, undoubtedly, was the world’s biggest fool.
A half-witted clodpoll, a simpleton who ran around with both eyes bound.
How on earth could he have made such a cardinal mistake? The signs had been blaring at him like military trumpets signalling the movement of troops, and he had sat there, deaf and blind and utterly stupid.
If a mistake of this magnitude had been made by one of his underlings, he’d have him shot on the spot. There was simply no excuse not to.
