The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(102)
“You will not,” his wife muttered.
“While the Malheurs win at cards,” Sebastian corrected smoothly. “Speaking of which—how do we fare? I know that Oliver and Robert have both already crossed twenty-one. But what do the rest of you have?”
“Seventeen,” Patrick said, flipping over the card he’d kept facedown.
“Nineteen.” Violet turned over a nine and a seven to go with the three she had on display.
“Ah.” Sebastian flipped his single card over, showing a pair of kings. “I’m at twenty. Can anyone beat that? I think not.” The man smiled beatifically and glanced at the marbles in the middle of the room.
“I’ve only got eighteen,” Stephen said, “but I don’t think that your almosts do cancel out. You see, I’m not really left-handed.”
“No!” Robert and Oliver spoke together in joint outrage.
Sebastian’s eyes widened. “An infidel! Stone him!” He looked wildly around, found a scrap of paper on the floor, and hurled it ineffectually at him. “Die, fiend, die!”
Stephen watched the paper flutter to the ground, and then shook his head. “Are you mad?”
“No,” Sebastian said. “I’m not even angry, but it’s more fun this way. You set everything off balance. If I can’t get a little amusement in return, what’s the point?”
“Ah,” Stephen said with a wave of his hand. “You lot were asking to be lied to. Gathering a bunch of men, muttering something about being left-handed.” Stephen shrugged. “Of course I’m going to say, ‘Yes, I’m left-handed.’ Why wouldn’t I?”
“Ah, well. At least tradition was upheld on the most important point.” Sebastian leaned forward and began to gather up the marbles in the center of the room. “I won.”
“No,” Edward said. “You didn’t.”
Sebastian froze. He glared at Edward, who had a string of cards showing. “You can’t have won,” he said. “Not unless you have a three under there. The chances of that are—”
Edward smiled blandly and flipped over the card, revealing the three of spades.
Silence met this proclamation. Sebastian blinked at Edward’s hand, frowning. “Did you cheat?” he finally asked.
“I lie. I forge. I blackmail.” Edward shrugged. “But cheating at cards? I’d never stoop so low.”
“Good to know you have some principles,” Oliver said with a roll of his eyes.
“Indeed,” Edward said. “Cheating at cards is too easy. I’d be vastly bored if I let myself do it.”
Beside him, Patrick—who knew Edward’s sense of humor rather better than the others—let out a crack of laughter.
But at that moment, the door opened behind him. A draft of cool air swept over him. Edward turned and glanced around.
“Ah,” he said. “Speaking of principles. Here comes my principle now.”
Free stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, dressed in a gown of brilliant blue and white. She glanced over them all—crammed into the too-tight space—and shook her head in exasperation.
“Why is half my wedding party hiding in the archive room?” she asked.
Edward reached forward and gathered up the scattered marbles. “Ah, Free. How lovely to see you. Did you know that every one of these marbles represents a favor owed to me by these fine men and women?”
Free tilted her head, contemplating the marbles. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I did know that. Jane mentioned these to me once. Apparently she’s still holding one in reserve.”
“It’s a high-stakes game,” Edward said, “but I was willing to play. And now look what I have for you.” He reached up and poured the marbles in her waiting hands. “Here,” he said. “I know I gave you a puppy for a wedding present, but these are much better.”
Free smiled down at him. “Dearest. You shouldn’t have. A duke and an MP, both in my pocket? It’s everything I’ve always wanted.”
Oliver began to struggle to his feet. “See here,” he said sharply.
Edward stood gracefully and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Enjoy.”
“I’m fairly certain they’re joking,” Sebastian stage-whispered.
Edward ignored this. “Now we’ve taken care of two of them,” he told her. “How many more do we need?”
“I don’t know.” She linked her arm in his. “Shall we go find out?”