Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)(80)

She glanced at Ned. It need not be.

“That’s not equitable,” Ned groused. “Ninety thousand against a few pounds?” He swept his hand across the table.

Jenny tried not to wince as her coins went flying. “That seems about right,” she snapped. “Everything you own pitted against everything I own. You want to destroy your life? At least have the courage to do it all at once like a man.”

“Very well.” Ned drew himself up, anger hardening his features. “I accept. You’ve already ruined my life once. I might as well let you have a second go at it.”

She could give most of it back, after Ned was well and truly shocked to his senses. What if she retained a mere four hundred pounds, as a fee of some kind? Maybe a thousand pounds, enough to keep her in independence for the remainder of her life. She could find the respect she’d wanted, no matter who her parents had been. After all, money spoke.

But temptation whispered.

Jenny’s head buzzed with the possibilities. Her hands trembled.

Who am I? The question echoed in her head.

The hubbub of the hell seemed to cut off around her, as smoothly as driving rain turning to drizzle. Quiet blanketed her mind. For a bare moment, everyone else disappeared. There was nothing but Jenny and an immense stillness in the midst of a sea of temptation. Into that great silence, she repeated herself. Who am I?

She hadn’t expected an answer. But it came anyway, from somewhere deep inside of her.

Who do you want to be?

It was all the answer Jenny needed. The world thawed. Noise returned, almost deafening after that slice of tranquility. But despite the frenetic worry that boiled around her, she carried that still center inside her. It did not waver. No mere fear of poverty could budge it.

Behind Ned, Gareth reached out toward his cousin’s shoulder. He stopped, inches away. Ned huddled in his chair, and didn’t glance behind him. Finally, Gareth drew his hand back and wiped it against his trouser leg.

Jenny smiled and picked her own cards from the leftovers and arranged them in order in her hand, from lowest to highest.

Ned gathered up his cards—a handful of carefully constructed threes and fours—and sighed. He let a card fall on the table. Jenny trumped it easily with the jack she’d dealt herself. She took the next trick, too, and yawned as she did.

She’d managed at least one thing. Ned clutched his cards, holding them as if they mattered. For the first time since she’d seen him that evening, he cared about losing.

Across the thin table, Ned’s despair was as palpable and acrid as the smoky air Jenny breathed. Already, she’d managed to convince him he had something to lose. Jenny wanted to smile. Instead, she played her next card.

It was the two of clubs. Ned stared in disbelief. Every card in his hand could beat it. Tentatively, he selected one and placed it on the table. He won the next round, too. They were left with one card each in their hands, and an even score.

“You’re cruel,” Ned said bitterly. “Trying to show me how close I could come?”

He threw the four of diamonds on the table. Gareth set his hands on Ned’s shoulders.

For one last time, Jenny was Madame Esmerelda again, smiling that mysterious smile at two men who had no idea what would happen next, but every expectation of a poor result.

She placed her card gently on the table.

Ned and Gareth stared, twin expressions of shock writ over their faces. Neither moved. Then Gareth reached out one finger to prod its edge—gently—as if somehow, he could not believe what he had seen.

Ned found his voice first. “You lost. You lost on purpose.” He scratched his head in confusion. “You lost ninety thousand pounds on purpose.”

Jenny hopped off the table and leaned down, picking up the coins Ned had scattered onto the floor. “No, Mr. Carhart. I lost sixteen pounds, five shillings on purpose.” She stacked his winnings gently atop the final cards. “And eight pennies. You shouldn’t forget the eight pennies.”

Ned stared at the coins. “But why? I don’t understand.”

Jenny shrugged. “I told you I was a liar and a cheat. I didn’t tell you who I planned to cheat.”

Ned shook his head. “What kind of idiot cheats himself?”

There was no need to respond to that one, not even with a wry gesture at the culprit. Ned flushed pink.

“When you first came to me, Ned, I had a choice of lies. You wanted to know if there was anything in your future besides unhappiness and irresponsibility. I could have told you the truth. The truth is, people rarely change. The truth is, men who drink too much often lead foolish, irresponsible lives. The truth is, you had too much money and not enough sense to ever grow into the kind of man you yearned to be.”

Ned flinched with every sentence.

“So I lied to you.”

“You told me what I wanted to hear.” His voice was small.

Jenny shook her head. “I told you what you needed to hear. I still see it, you know. When I look at you, I still see a boy growing into a man, honorable and tall. I see a man who will one day command respect.”

Ned’s hands shook and his eyes glistened. “Another lie?” His voice trembled. “You don’t know what it is really like, what I have thought—”

“It is as much a lie today as it was then. And isn’t it strange? Since I’ve known you, you’ve become intensely loyal, unwilling to let others look down on those who matter to you. I watched you grow into that falsehood I told. Not despite the lie, but because of it.”