Page 27 of An Earl Unmasked
“Must you?”
Her brother placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know what occurred for you and Minerva to dislike our brother so, but he only wants the best for you both.”
“Pfft.” She shrugged, dislodging Greg’s hand, and crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced up at her brother. “All Kent cares about is proving to Papa he is worthy of the title.”
“A little harsh, sister.” He left her side.
Harsh—the truth often was.
She sighed. Her gaze stopped at the sight of Randal smirking and Drake frowning at the chessboard. Diana stretched her neck in hopes of garnering a better glimpse of the board.
“I believe Minerva is finally playing a worthy opponent?”
“Hmph.” She glared at Kent. “We both know that the only way Minerva loses is if she wishes it so.”
Kent bent and placed an arm under her knees and about her back. “Let’s relocate to gain a better view, shall we?”
Her brother picked her up, and she caught Randal scowling at her. She smiled, and oddly his lips didn’t twitch at the corners like she had become accustomed to seeing. Was he angry with her? As they approached, Randal stood and signaled to the nearest footman to assist him with moving a rather large chair next to the chessboard.
Kent said, “Good lord, Drake, stop staring at the blasted pieces and come help bring over a footrest for Diana.”
Drake looked about dazed and moved to assist in arranging furniture to allow her a better view. Randal had placed the chair to face him directly. How was she to continue her covert assessment of him if he was directly in front of her? She liked watching him attempt to control his features and failing to hide his thoughts.
Settled, Diana asked, “Whose turn is it?”
Drake answered, “Minerva’s.”
Kent shifted slightly closer to Minerva now that he stood in between them. “Interesting. Interesting indeed.”
Diana studied the board. She hadn’t even considered the possibility of a stalemate, whereby neither was declared a winner, until now. Is that what the pair had been discussing earlier? What would occur if a tie was to be declared? Minerva had positioned her pawns potentially where they may all be blocked. Diana was no chess master, but she had played her fair share of games against her brilliant sister to recognize Minerva was not employing her normal strategy of win in as few moves as possible.
She peered up at Randal, who was watching her, not the board and not his opponent. A warmth spread through her as his eyes twinkled at her, and his lips curved into a smile. He was rather dashing when he smiled.
Drake leaned his hip against the side of Randal’s chair. “What are you waiting for Minerva? There is only one rational move for you to make?”
Minerva raised her chin and met Drake’s disgruntled features. “Pray tell, what do you have at stake that has you interested in the outcome of this game? Have you placed yet another idiotic wager?”
Kent asked, “What do you know of wagers and such?”
Minerva’s eyes never left Drake, who was rubbing his wrists. A tell he developed as a child that he was nervous or hiding something. Despite being like family, Drake never discussed financial matters in front of her or her sisters. He’d never do something so uncouth. Diana slid her gaze to Minerva, who had a stubborn set to her chin.
Her sister finally turned to Kent. “Nothing, brother, mere speculation upon my part.” She leaned forward., Her hand hovered over her bishop before picking up her knight. Diana saw her sister’s quick glance at Drake before picking up the piece that she purposefully placed in danger. In essence, Minerva was sacrificing her knight, placing her in the precarious position of potentially losing. Her sister had shared with Diana that she’d hoped Drake would be her knight in shining armor—to save Minerva from her disastrous first Season. Instead, Drake had chosen to spend that Season in gaming halls and ultimately the underbelly hells—that was until their brother Kent rescued him from dun territory. The metaphor of giving up her knight was not lost on Diana, and by the looks of it, it was not lost on Drake either.
Randal shifted and broke the silence. “Lady Minerva, I believe we failed to settle the terms should we find ourselves in a stalemate.”
“You are quite right, Lord Chestwick, what do you propose?”
Drake answered, “In the event of a tie, the game is over. No winner. No loser. Nothing more.”
Kent laughed. “Whatever is the matter with you Drake, stating the obvious?” He looked over to Randal, “A stalemate is always a possibility. However, none of that matters until the final move is made, and that will not occur unless the game is actually played. Might I suggest that in the event a stalemate were to ensue, a rematch would be scheduled to be played at Malbury Hall?”
Diana swallowed the giggle that threated to escape her. Drake’s eyes were wide with shock, and then his brows creased. “Did you or did you not declare that a gentleman could only attempt to play for your hand one time. It is the only reason Mansville has not attempted to trap you into marriage.”
The temperature in the room seemed to rise, but it wasn’t from the ire rolling off Drake and Minerva. It was due to Randal and his constant gaze at her. While she had pretended to look at each of the others as they spoke, she was very aware of Randal’s relaxed posture. She reached for her fan, her favorite accessory to hide behind, but she caught nothing but air at her wrist.
Minerva asked, “You think if Lord Mansville were afforded a second chance, he would best me at a game of chess?”
Drake remained mute, lips drawn tight.
