“Punters, take your seats.” The dealer, a stone-faced older man employed by White’s, shuffled the cards. Sir George looked at Carlisle and Shrewsbury expectantly.
“One moment,” Henry said. He pulled Shrewsbury a step aside. Shrewsbury resisted, shrugging Henry’s hand off his shoulder. Clearly, he didn’t like being in close proximity with Henry. Henry had no idea why. He’d done nothing to the man but sign over his large estate in Surrey. Speaking of that estate…
“I beg to differ, my lord,” Henry said. “You do have something to wager. Carlisle Hall.”
Shrewsbury’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that what this is about? You want a chance to win it back?”
Yes!Henry gave the marquess a thin smile. “I made a mistake wagering it in the first place.”
“Yes, you did,” the marquess said, and Henry had to fight not to bristle. He could feel the gazes of the other gentlemen at the club. Die were still being cast and glasses clinked as his peers drank, but there was a hush as the men of thetontried to hear what was being said between the Duke of Carlisle and the Marquess of Shrewsbury.
“I can admit when I’ve made a mistake,” Henry said, glancing over the marquess’s shoulder to the large hearth on the outer wall. The fire seemed to flicker and dance in an odd manner. Henry blinked and looked back at the marquess. “But since I lost that wager, I have begun to suspect you have some ill will toward me or my family.”
The truth was, his friends had mentioned how strange it was that the marquess had so recently taken up gambling and seemed to only ever play with Henry. Despite Henry’s reservations, and that of his friends, he hadn’t been able to resist playing the marquess. He wanted to resist. He tried to walk away, but that big voice kept shouting,One more!
Now the marquess’s pale brows rose even higher. “Ill will? Whatever for?”
Henry’s gaze was drawn once again to the hearth. Was the fire dancing? His gaze flicked to the men near the fire. None of them seemed to pay the hearth any attention. Henry looked back at Shrewsbury, who was waiting patiently for an answer.
Focus, Henry.
Henry waved a dismissive hand. “Over that business between your father and my grandfather.”
“That business?” For a moment, the marquess’s face seemed to redden, then his features smoothed. “I haven’t thought of that for years.”
Henry was no great judge of men, but even he didn’t believe the marquess carednothingabout the rumored feud between their ancestors. Still, he pressed on. “Then you won’t object to giving me an opportunity to win Carlisle Hall back.”
Shrewsbury clearly did object. His mouth tightened, and his brows lowered menacingly. But he glanced about and saw the other men were watching him. “My only concern is that my daughter and her companion are living at Carlisle Hall and have just settled in.”
Henry hadn’t known this. It rankled that he’d lost the estate so recently and Shrewsbury had already moved his family in. He took a breath. “If I prevail, I will give Lady Katherine ample time to relocate. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
If Henry had thrown his glove at Shrewsbury’s feet, the challenge could not have been more obvious. Henry waited forShrewsbury to pick up the proverbial glove and prove he too was a gentleman by offering Henry the chance to win his ancestral home back. Shrewsbury stared at Henry, who for a moment could easily believe the marquess held a grudge against him.
Then he was distracted again by the hearth. A face seemed to dance in it, the face of an old woman. Henry rubbed the bridge of his nose. Perhaps the brandy he’d sipped all night was stronger than he’d thought.
“Very well,” Shrewsbury said, bringing Henry’s attention back to him. “Another hand of vingt-et un. If your hand beats mine, you win Carlisle Hall.”
Henry slapped the marquess on his bony shoulder. “That’s more like it.”
The marquess lifted his shoulder, dislodging Henry’s hand yet again. “What if I win?”
Murmurs rose around them, and Henry realized several gentlemen were standing behind him and listening to the conversation. He looked back at them. “You keep the estate.”
“I already have the estate—all but the dower house.”
“I can’t wager the dower house. It’s legally my mother’s. I have no claim to it.” His maternal grandfather had been wise to insist on that provision in his mother’s contract. It meant that no matter how foolish her husband or sons might be, she always had a place to live.
“But you have a town house,” the marquess said.
Behind him, Henry heard the collective intake of breath. The Dukes of Carlisle had owned a town house in London since the time of Elizabeth I. The current house had been one of the first built in Berkeley Square. “I do, yes,” he said carefully.
“If I win, I want the town house.”
Henry laughed until he noted the marquess wasn’t laughing. “You’re serious?”
“If I’m to wager my country estate, it should be worth my time.”
Henry refrained from saying it washiscountry estate, but only barely. From far away, he heard that small voice whining,Don’t do it, Henry. Take your winnings and go home.
