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Authors: Nicole Jordan

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BOOK: Princess Charming
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Ash completely understood Maura’s compulsion to be present at the gaming club. He would have felt the same urgency defending his own parents, or any other member of his family, for that matter.

He also understood the imperative for him to succeed. In playing the viscount, not only was he risking the loss of Maura’s prize stallion, he was responsible for exonerating her beloved father. A heavy onus indeed.

Vingt-un was partly a game of skill and partly of luck. After being dealt two cards each, the players attempted to reach a combination closest to twenty-one points without going over that number, with court cards counting as ten points, face cards as their numerical value, and aces as either one or eleven points. The deal changed between players, depending on who won the last hand, and the dealer had the advantage of odds.

Upon arriving, Ash had met with the club owner, George Sutter, to insure the game wouldn’t be rigged ahead of time by any other parties. Jack had vouched for Sutter’s honesty, but Ash wanted the two new decks of playing cards examined by a reliable witness and noted to be free of disfigurements of any kind. He hoped to catch Deering at marking cards during the evening, since a repetition of the viscount’s game with Noah Collyer two years earlier would be highly suspect. There was also the possibility that Deering would find a way to accuse Ash himself of cheating, just as he’d done with Collyer.

Ash knew he would have to keep his wits sharp if he hoped to expose Deering for what he was: An unscrupulous bastard who preyed on the vulnerable. But for Maura’s sake, he was prepared to do whatever it took. One way or the other, he intended to flush the viscount out.

The game began innocently enough. The cards remained clean at first, Ash was convinced. But as the night wore on, faint scratches started appearing in the lower left corners of certain cards, which led him to conclude that using a sleight of hand, Deering was scoring the backs of the court cards with his signet ring.

It was the final straw for Ash. He had no qualms about employing similar unprincipled means, not necessarily to win the game, but to rile and unsettle Deering as much as possible.

The next time Ash had the deal, he marked several face cards with the same scratch, so that eventually Deering exceeded his point limit when he’d obviously expected a much different result.

When Deering eyed him suspiciously, Ash asked in an innocent tone, “Is something amiss?”

“No, nothing,” the nobleman replied, scowling faintly, although he must have known he’d been tricked into playing the wrong card.

Ash flashed a slow, taunting smile to drive home his victory, which earned him a more perceptible scowl.

It was perhaps a quarter hour later when Ash managed to identify the ace of hearts—the same card that Deering had once used to accuse Collyer—and conceal it beneath his coat sleeve before giving over the deal. Then, with his own sleight of hand, Ash flicked the ace beneath the table to land at his opponent’s feet.

By then, several curious players had gathered around the noblemen to watch their contest, including one of the club’s paid dealers. Thus, Ash had an impartial audience when a moment later, he made a deliberate show of spotting the fallen card beside Deering’s evening shoe. After leaning to one side of the table and peering down, Ash froze as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

Frowning, he pointed to the stray card to draw the attention of everyone around them. “You seem to have misplaced part of the deck, Deering,” he commented as he bent down to retrieve the card.

Upon turning it faceup on the baize surface, Ash let his jaw harden. “How very convenient that you should have a spare ace lying around,” he drawled.

Deering stared at the card as if he’d seen a ghost.

“How did that just happen to fall there within your reach?” Ash pressed.

“I have no earthly idea how it came to be there on the floor,” the viscount declared, his expression indignant.

“No? Do you deny that you dropped it there so you could play it later when you most needed it?”

Deering lifted his gaze to skewer Ash with an icy look. “Of course I deny I dropped it.”

Ash raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Forgive me if I fail to believe you. You have made a habit of employing the ace of hearts to your own ends before this. I recall this same card was used to accuse Mr. Noah Collyer of fixing your game two years ago.”

The viscount’s cold glare intensified. “What are you saying, Beaufort?”

“That you have been cheating outright since the beginning of our game tonight.”

There were numerous gasps from the spectators standing around the table.

“How
dare
you,” the viscount ground out, his defensiveness turning to anger.

“How dare
I
?” Ash countered in a cool voice. “I could ask the same of you, Deering. I have observed you closely all evening. You have been scoring the backs of particular cards this entire time.”

He turned over the ace of hearts to display the back, where the plain red surface was visibly marred by a
scratch in the lower left corner. “Our proprietor will vouch that both decks were free of defects before the game began, so this identifying mark had to have been made during our play. There are identical scratches on other court cards as well.”

At first Deering made no reply, but his livid complexion suggested that he was seething. “You could just as easily have been the one to score the cards,” he finally retorted. “Indeed, I suspect
you
are the guilty party, since you are the one who pointed out the marks.”

A valid argument, Ash agreed silently before attempting to direct the blame back where it belonged. “That doesn’t explain the ace lying at your feet. Did you actually think to get away again with the same fraudulent scheme you used against Collyer?”

His face contorted with fury, Deering uttered a curse that was audible throughout the entire room. A hush had fallen, as if a blanket had been lowered over the crowd to snuff out all frivolity and good spirits. The tension in the club was now palpable.

Ash smiled without humor. “Perhaps I am mistaken. I would be willing to retract my charge now if you admit that you were inaccurate when you accused Collyer two years ago.”

“Collyer? What the devil do you care about him?”

“A good man’s reputation suffered mightily that night. You could easily clear up matters by explaining the truth of what happened. Even if it comes posthumously for Collyer, his family will be relieved to have his name exonerated.”

“What of my reputation? You are impugning my good name, sir!”

By now Deering was almost choleric, yet apparently the allegation of cheating was not enough to compel him to change his account of the game with Maura’s father.

Frustrated by his failure, Ash continued pressing. “The similarities between the games are too obvious to believe anything other than duplicity.”

His charge had the desired effect, for Deering practically spat out his reply. “You leave me no choice but to defend my honor. You will give me satisfaction, Beaufort.”

Ash nodded, gratified that he had goaded Deering into issuing the challenge, since it gave him greater leverage over the viscount. “I am happy to oblige,” he responded.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ash saw Maura surge to her feet and take a step toward their table, only to be prevented from approaching by his brother, Jack.

Shifting his gaze from her, Ash glanced around at the crowd. “Pray, give us privacy,” he ordered with a sharpness that sent the observers backing away.

“Shall we settle the matter with pistols or swords?” he asked Deering then.

“Pistols,” Deering snapped. “You should name your seconds so they may arrange the particulars.”

“I prefer to decide all the particulars tonight,” Ash countered. “Of course we will have our seconds present to watch the duel to insure that honor is satisfied, but I see no reason to delay our meeting. After first light tomorrow should suffice, say half past six … unless you dislike rising at such an early hour. As for place, the field below Granger Hill is a prime location.”

He could see Deering internally debating a reply. Dueling was illegal, so the fewer people involved the better. The gentlemen’s code required that each primary appoint a second to act as emissary and arrange the details of time and place. Normally at least a full day was allowed to pass to give a cooling-off period in case common sense prevailed over charges made in the heat of anger. But Ash wanted to pressure Deering as much as possible, since the threat of a duel was likely the only way to get him to confess his role against Collyer.

Not surprisingly, Deering faltered, as if suddenly regretting that he’d issued his challenge so hastily. He well knew that Ash was accounted an excellent shot. Yet Deering was highly skilled as well, so the match would not be totally uneven. And he could not back down now without losing face.

As if coming to the same conclusion, the viscount gritted his teeth and gave a brusque nod. “I will rely on Pelham as my second.”

His choice of such a reputable gentleman was unexpected, but Ash had no right to question it. “I plan to ask my cousin, Traherne.”

“Very well, I will see you early tomorrow morning.”

Standing, Deering turned on his heel and strode off, sending unwary bystanders scurrying from his path.

A moment later Maura appeared beside Ash, with Jack trailing close behind her. She still wore her mask, but her distress was audible in the tone of her voice when she launched into a protest. “Merciful heaven, you were not supposed to challenge him to a duel, Ash!”

“He challenged me,” he corrected.

Her scoffing sound held a measure of disgust. “You are arguing semantics. I know very well that you purposely maneuvered him into dueling with you.”

Realizing Maura was growing wise to his methods, Ash almost smiled. “Just as a last resort. Accepting his challenge was the only way to force his confession. If I had been able to catch Deering dead to rights and prove unequivocally that he’d marked the cards tonight, his cheating would have been publicly exposed. But I only managed to cast doubt on his honesty.”

“Even so, you cannot duel. You have to withdraw.”

“Whyever should I?”

Maura’s lovely jaw dropped in disbelief for a moment. “Because he could very well shoot you. He might even kill you! I never meant for this to go so far. Vindicating my father is not worth risking your life.”

“It is to me, love. But it may not come to a duel. Deering is a coward at heart. I suspect he will back down before it comes to actual shooting.”

“But what if he does not? You could
die
.”

“And so could Deering.”

Maura glared at Ash with mingled dismay and frustration. “If you kill him, you will have to flee the country, have you considered that?”

“I wish you had more faith in my skills, darling. I will only aim to wound him.”

“That does not reassure me in the least!” Maura retorted fiercely.

Rising from the card table, Ash pressed a finger to her lips to hush her. “Calm yourself, sweetheart. Deering could not retreat just now in front of so many onlookers, but by tomorrow morning he may change his mind. If he wishes to call off the duel, though, he will
have to meet my terms and offer a public retraction of the charges against your father.”

Without giving Maura a chance to argue further, he shifted his gaze to his brother. “Jack, you will take her home? I need to visit Quinn and arrange for him to second me.”

At Jack’s nod, Ash turned away. Yet feeling Maura’s troubled gaze following him, he knew he hadn’t heard the last of her objections.

 

Maura could scarcely
believe the turn her ongoing battle with Deering had taken. It was one thing to try and expose his treacherous connivances by challenging him at the gaming table. It was quite another to shift the challenge to the dueling field, where it could result in Ash’s death.

She found no ally in his brother, however, for Lord Jack supported Ash’s decision to meet Deering over pistols early the next morning.

“I wish you would speak to Ash and make him see reason,” Maura implored as Jack escorted her home.

“I think you are worrying needlessly,” he responded in an easy tone. “Ash can take care of himself.”

“It is no surprise that you would take his side,” she muttered. “Dueling is something only a reckless, hard-headed Wilde would do.”

“Did you expect anything else? Our family is known for living up to our name.”

Jack’s careless grin rubbed Maura the wrong way, even knowing that the fiery, passionate Wilde cousins were proud of their legacy.

“This is no joking matter,” she retorted irritably.

Jack seemed unfazed by her fuming. “True, but Ash has never been one to retreat because of a little danger. Besides, he has vowed to defeat Deering, and he won’t go back on his word.” Jack cast her a speculative glance. “You must admit it is rather princely of Ash—even heroic, some might say—to fight to restore your father’s honor.”

His not-so-subtle reminder of the legendary lover role Ash was playing did nothing to allay Maura’s frustration, nor did his casual dismissal of the risk. Thus, Jack left her at Grosvenor Square without settling the argument.

BOOK: Princess Charming
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