Page 69 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

Their dealer quietly continued his task, passing two cards to each gentleman until everyone had a pair.Vint-un, then, Gabriel thought. A seemingly simple game that could bankrupt a man in seconds, if he allowed himself distraction.

The rounds went by quickly, chips taken off the table just as quickly as they were pushed off. One by one, the dealer would draw his card, waiting for the adjacent player to accept it, or stand.

More often than not, a gentleman would only take two or three extra cards before running the odds in their mind. It all added up quicker than expected, after all, and twenty-one only seemed a far-off number at first.

“Ah. Looks like I went over again.” Gabriel sighed, leaning back in his chair as he watched the chips be divided amongst those who managed to stay under twenty-one.

“This game truly despises you, Your Grace,” a Devil smirked.

“Oh, he’s just getting warmed up,” an Orion spoke in his defense.

Gabriel shrugged in reply, ears twitching at the sound of a chair pushing out behind him. “Maybe the stakes simply aren’t interesting enough for me to be fully engaged.”

“I wondered when you’d up the ante, Your Grace.” A swish of red fabric passed the corner of Gabriel’s eye, and the servant dealing for the game bowed his head before stepping aside, allowing Sybella herself to take his place. “You don’t mind if I have a hand in this, do you? I’d love to personally observe your losing streak myself.”

“Not at all, Lady Fitzroy,” Gabriel said. “Though you wound me with your words; one’s luck is bound to change eventually.” He hunched his shoulders and purposefully leaned across the table, counting down in eager anticipation. Three, two, one—the chair beside him scraped its legs across the floor, and a man hastily sat to join in. Gabriel hardly needed a glance to know who it was; the little marquess had taken the bait.

“Do you mind if I join in?” Giles asked a touch too eagerly.

Gabriel shrugged, offering nothing more in reply.

The game began once more in earnest, now with jewelry pieces and priceless cigars being added to the betting pile. Sybella quietly watched with an unspoken grace, fingers working the cards as if she’d been born with a deck in hand.

She twirled the joker absentmindedly as she waited for the player’s choice, and when it came to Gabriel’s turn, she arched her brow his way. He, in turn, drew a card, letting out a sigh in defeat.

“A shame, Your Grace,” Sybella said. “This really isn’t your night.”

The table jumped as Giles let out a shout of laughter. “Gracious, but I hadn’t realized your luck was so finite, Your Grace!” He eagerly watched as Sybella divided the winnings, adding to his overall pile significantly.

The remaining Orions shot daggers across the table, and even a few Devil members furrowed their brows. But Gabriel remained even-keeled, leaning back in his chair as he sipped brandy from his glass. “Yes; it seems I can only take so much from you, Lord Tilbury.”

The man’s expression faltered, and he gathered his winnings up into his arms. “Yes, well, at least I know how far my luck can take me. I’ll be seeing you, gentlemen; there’s quite a bit I need to cash out.”

“That’s a shame,” Gabriel commented lightly. “Things were just about to get interesting.”

And there it was. The brief second of hesitation, the waning confidence of his steps as he hovered over the table in mid-decision. Gabriel imparted an aura of casual disinterest, the idle chatter of the room fading to the background as the little marquess’ breathing hitched in his chest.

“Then you’re finally going to make things interesting, Your Grace?” Something in Sybella’s voice rang with familiarity, and it sent the other players completely on-edge. Gabriel recognized the sharp edge of her tone, the anticipation as she leaned ever so slightly across the table; Sybella was fully aware that she was about to witness the end of a long, tumultuous hunt.

Gabriel slipped his napkin out from under his glass, reaching for a pen within his jacket before scribbling something down. He then placed it gently toward the center, watching as Sybella’s smile drew a thin slit across her lips.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to offer my collection of summer estates as collateral for this next round.”

Immediately, members from both Orion and Devil rose from the table, making as graceful an exit as they could without offending Gabriel. Mutterings of needing a drink, feeling peckish, desiring some fresh air—their excuses ranged in variety, and soon, only Giles Tilbury remained.

“Oh, gracious me.” Sybella sighed lightly, a hand resting against her cheek. “You scared everyone off, Your Grace.”

“Hardly,” Giles snapped, his face flushed with anger. “I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?” He pushed half of his winnings into the center of the table, glaring Gabriel’s way. “You’re pushing your luck quite far, Your Grace.”

“And you’re not putting enough on the line.” Gabriel commented lightly. He turned to Sybella, her cool exterior occasionally betrayed by a flicker of mirth across her lips. “Lady Fitzroy, will you be accepting Lord Tilbury’s wager as equal collateral to mine?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she exclaimed. “Your estates are worth at least four of the piles he possesses. I’m afraid you’ll simply have to lower your stake, Your Grace.”

Somehow, Giles’ face turned an even brighter shade of red. There was no feeling worse, being belittled and spoken about as if you weren’t present. And by a lady, no less; the little marquess might feel confident bullying his untitled cousin, but even Giles knew not to cross Sybella Fitzroy.

By now, a significant crowd had gathered around their table, overhearing their hostess’ outcry and lured in by their own, morbid curiosity. The pressure visibly built in the air, aided by whispers and an impatient tapping of Sybella’s fingers.

“Th-then… I’ll offer some of my own estates.”

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