No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(109)

He stilled.

“Lady Philippa was kind to me. Kinder than any aristocratic female ever has been. And I knew the moment I told Knight about her that I’d regret it.”

“You are not fit to speak her name.” She was better than this place, and all of them combined.

“Likely not. But it’s not your choice.”

“It should be.”

Sally gave a little smile. “Do not doubt for one moment that what’s done was done for her. Not you.”

Meaning Pippa would be happier without him—that Pippa deserved more than what he could give her.

Truth.

“Attention!” Knight’s great, booming voice distracted them both, and they turned to find the man, scarlet-banded hat askew, high atop a hazard table at the center of the floor of the casino. “Attention!” he called again, banging his silver-tipped walking stick heavily on the worn baize, stopping the lively music and drunken chatter. “I’ve somethin’ te say, ye disrespectful gits!”

Knight grinned as the room tittered its laughter, and Cross gritted his teeth, knowing what was to come.

“I’m still angry at most of ye for taking yer time at the Angel’s tables fer that poncy party they call Pandemonium—drinkin’ yer tea and eatin’ yer cakes with a collection of nobs who don’t know an ace from their arse. But I find myself in a forgivin’ humor tonight, pets—in part because, well”—he turned his twinkling gaze to Cross—“at least one of those gents is about to be family!”

The announcement was met with a raucous, near-deafening cheer, as all heads turned toward Cross, who did not cheer. Did not smile. Did not move.

Knight raised a brow and reached out a hand to his future son-in-law. “Cross! Join me for a word or two!”

The cheer again, grating on every nerve, making Cross wish violence on every man here. He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head, unmoving, and Knight’s gaze darkened. “Aww . . . he doesn’t want to steal my roll! Don’t worry, my boy. The pips . . .” He paused, letting the word fall between them. “They are in my favor these days!”

And with that single syllable, evocative of the woman who consumed his thoughts, Knight made it impossible for Cross to refuse the request. He moved across the room with deliberate calm, despite the desire to pull Knight from the table and tear him limb from limb, and climbed up to join the man who had outplayed him. Finally.

Knight clapped him on the back, and Cross spoke, sotto voce, “Tomorrow, she marries. And you lose that bit of control.”

Knight spoke through wide, smiling teeth. “Nonsense. I can ruin her marriage and her children’s reputation, with one well-placed word.” He turned back to the room, a king speaking to his subjects. “And now, the beautiful lady who has captured his heart! The banns will be read tomorrow, and in three weeks’ time, my girl will be his!”

Maggie was lifted up onto the table, and Cross had to give the young woman credit—no decent father would allow his daughter anywhere near this place. No man would allow a woman for whom he cared here. But this woman, clad in mauve and resignation, stood straight and still, without fidgeting, without blushing.

She looked to him, honesty in her gaze. “My lord.” She curtsied, looking as graceful and proper as one could standing atop a hazard field.

He inclined his head, reminding himself that she was a pawn in this game. That it was Maggie who would lose the most. She would gain a title and wealth beyond imagining, but she would never have a husband who loved her.

Her husband would always love another.

“She’s a helluva treat, Cross!” someone called from the crowd.

“I’d like to get my hands on those legs!” A man reached for her slipper, grazing the toe before she gasped and pulled away, pressing back against Cross.

He might not wish to marry her, but she didn’t deserve this.

He pressed a boot down on the man’s wrist, just hard enough to trap the hand to the table. “Touch her and lose it.”

Knight laughed. “You see how he’s already protectin’ her? Can’t keep his hands off her, that Cross! They’ll make me handsome grandsons! I wager the Viscount Baine arrives before the year is out!”

The sound of Baine’s name on Knight’s lips sent a wave of heat through Cross. “I’ve twenty quid says he’s already on the way!” came a booming retort from the crowd.

Laughter and excited cheers rose up from the floor of the hell, punctuated by a loud, “Kiss ’er!”

“Aye, give the girl a good one, Cross!”

Knight laughed. “I haven’t any problem with it!”

“Of course you don’t, you bastard,” Cross hissed beneath the drunken cheers of agreement. “She’s a future countess, and your daughter, and you want her ruined in a gaming hell?”

“She’s my daughter and your future countess,” Knight replied over the cries of agreement. “I think a kiss in a gaming hell is to be expected. And I’m nothing if not a fine host; she’s not getting off this table until they get what they want.”

Maggie’s cheeks had turned red, and she peered up at Cross through sooty black lashes. “My lord,” she whispered, “please. Let us have done with it, shall we?”

He took pity on the girl. “I’m sorry this must be here.”