Page 42 of The Duke of Aces
He straightened and smiled at the couple who passed by with quizzical looks. Tom urged Isadora forward, continuing toward the table lined with glasses filled with lemonade. “Aye. If he does not agree to issue the private challenge, Charlotte has been given permission to threaten him.”
“Threaten him?”
“If he refuses to comply, Drake shall find himself aboard a ship bound for the West Indies at first light.”
Isadora’s hand tightened about his arm. “The West Indies?”
He glanced down to see her concern. Had Drake become more than a brotherly figure to Isadora while Tom had been away? “Aye, you heard correct.”
Isadora nodded as they came to stand before the refreshment table. He procured two glasses and handed her one. Isadora appeared lost in thought as she lifted her glass to her lips and sipped. When she peered up at him, all signs of worry had disappeared, replaced with a glint Tom interpreted to be curiosity.
Isadora’s lips curved and she asked, “What do you think of the renovations to Wembly Hall?”
It took a moment for her question to register. The sudden change in topics had caught him off guard, which was rare, given he was accustomed to conversing with Charlotte, the queen of redirection. He scanned the room and then her meaning hit him. With a wink, he replied, “Marvelous, but perhaps a tour of the establishment would enrich my appreciation.”
Isadora curled her hand over his bicep, which instinctively flexed. “What a grand idea.” She led him around through a curtain and down a candlelit corridor. They passed two doors before he felt his restraint snap. He halted in the middle of the hallway. “Where do the doors lead to?”
“A card room, a billiards room, a reading room, and the far door leads to my office.” Isadora turned to face him. “Is there anyone, in particular, you would like to see first?”
The choice was obvious. “The card room.”
“Very well.” Isadora reached for his hand. It was the second time she had initiated contact, and the action had his heart swelling in his chest. He squeezed her hand, and she led him into the door to the right.
He opened the door to reveal six oval-shaped tables, all arranged with seating for six at each.
“Would you care to play?” Isadora tugged him toward a table that was lined with green felt like those found at gaming establishments. By Jove, she had created the female equivalent to Brooks’s, his gentleman’s club. Grinning he answered, “I’m always up for a game of cards. What are the stakes?”
“If you win, I shall agree to a courtship. If I win, you shall grant me the answers to five questions I have regarding your involvement with the Foreign Office.”
He would have happily agreed, but she would expect him to counter, and so he did. “Marriage…and three questions.”
Isadora narrowed her gaze at him. “Shall we play Vingt en un.”
Tom’s heart nearly stopped at her eager acceptance. “Would you care to deal or should I?”
Isadora took her seat and reached for the deck of cards in the center of the table. “I’ll deal.”
Smart girl. He took the seat opposite her and sent up a prayer to Lady Luck, for Isadora handled the deck like a card sharp.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fanning the cardsout onto the table in a straight line, Isadora flipped them over like dominos for Tom to view. It wasn’t to prove she wasn’t a card sharp; it was a show of trust. If trust was to be the foundation of their marriage, she wanted it to be solid.
Tom scanned the gaming cards and nodded for her to proceed. Scooping up the cards, she shuffled them, intermingling the rectangular pieces with a skill that she rarely displayed except in the company of family.
Her opponent eyed her moves carefully as if he were trying to read or memorize the order of the cards. She tilted the cards slightly downward, and Tom’s brow creased. She piled the cards into a stack and pushed them toward Tom.
He removed his gloves, placing them on the seat next to him before he smoothly lifted the top half of the deck and placed it to his right. Isadora admired his sun-bronzed hands. Did Tom ride bare-chested and without gloves like her brothers during the warmer months?
Her cheeks warmed as her gaze settled upon Tom’s chest. If she lost, she would find out soon enough. The thought had her blinking away her wayward thoughts, and she combined the stack to her right with the other. She asked, “How many rounds?”
“Until there are insufficient cards.” Tom arrogantly cocked a brow.
An entire deck?
To track which cards had been played and how many court cards remained would require her absolute attention. She could not afford any distractions. Not one to rely on luck, she banished the images of a sun-kissed, bare-chested Tom seated upon a horse.
Focused, she dealt two cards, both face down. One in front of Tom and the other one in front of her. Inhaling deeply and concentrating on the cards before her, she dealt two more cards, this time face up. An eight of spades for Tom and a four of diamonds for her. Now came the tricky part, calculating the odds depending on Tom’s next move.
