by Renee Ryan
“Do not devalue your shared history. Because of it, you and Luke have a closeness that runs deep.”
“Luke and I are friends, Caroline, nothing more.”
“So you already said, several times, in fact.” Caroline let out a soft chuckle. “And before you reiterate your point yet again, I’ll remind you of the night you received the distressing news about your governess. Luke was consumed with worry for you. No man agonizes over a woman’s well-being like that when he considers her a mere friend.”
Elizabeth swallowed, took a hard pull of air, swallowed again. There was no excuse for feeling so thoroughly moved by her cousin’s observation. The sensation slipping through her felt like . . . hope. “Luke is a good man, one of honor and integrity. He would have done the same for any number of people. You are reading too much into his behavior.”
“Am I?”
“If he were interested in more than friendship, he has had months to declare himself.”
That, Elizabeth realized, was a critical detail she must keep in mind when hope reared up again. She and Luke had been guests at the same balls, parties, and private dinners this season. For months, they’d been thrown into one another’s paths over and over again.
Except for that first evening when he’d arrived home from England, he’d never once asked Elizabeth to dance. He’d never once sought out her company, never once made a point to speak with her unless they were seated next to each other at dinner.
No, whatever Caroline thought she’d seen in Luke’s eyes, it had not been masculine interest. He’d probably been plotting ways to keep Elizabeth from continuing with her scheme.
Depressing thought.
“Elizabeth.” Caroline took both of her hands. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s so wrong with the possibility of you and Luke becoming more than—”
“Will you teach me how to cheat at cards?”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Pardon me? I don’t believe I heard correctly. You want me to . . . what?”
Pleased her tactic to change the subject had worked so well, Elizabeth held back a smile. Gloating was unladylike. Besides, her cousin’s shocked expression didn’t fool her. “You absolutely heard what I said.”
Caroline made a face. “I was hoping you would withdraw the request if I gave you the chance.”
“I truly wish to learn.”
“But why? I don’t understand why you would wish to gain a skill that is unnecessary, underhanded, and, for want of a better word, dishonest.”
The very real confusion in Caroline’s voice gave Elizabeth pause. Had her cousin been judgmental or angry, she might have brushed off her request as a lark.
Instead, wishing for at least one ally in her quest for adventure, she found herself revealing the events of the past weeks. Starting with her father and grandfather’s humiliating reaction when she’d told them she would go to England as they’d requested.
“I can see where that would upset you,” Caroline said. “But I don’t understand how that relates to cheating at cards.”
“There’s more.”
Next came an exposition on the disastrous results of her first attempt at rebellion, then her visit with Hester. “The details of which you already know.”
Caroline nodded, her eyes full of sympathy.
Encouraged by her cousin’s lack of condemnation, Elizabeth shared her very real fear that she would never become a woman of substance. “And so,” she concluded, “I made a list of all the things I would do if the rules of society didn’t apply to me.”
Now that she’d come to the end of her tale, she could finally manage to breathe calmly.
For several seconds, Caroline watched her closely, then said, “May I see the list?”
“I don’t carry it with me.” Luke’s attempt to destroy the piece of paper had taught Elizabeth a valuable lesson. She’d spent the afternoon memorizing each of the twenty tasks. When she’d finished, she’d tucked the list away in a safe hiding place—between the pages of her Bible. “One of the tasks I wish to accomplish is to play a game of chance.”
“That’s not what you asked of me,” Caroline pointed out, eyebrows raised.
With a wry twist of her lips, Elizabeth lifted a casual shoulder. “I knew if I asked you something outrageous, you would attempt to negotiate down to a lesser task.”
To her astonishment, Caroline dissolved into a fit of laughter. “Elizabeth, my dear, sweet, clever cousin. You are already far wiser and full of far more substance than you realize.”
“Then you’ll play a game of chance with me?”
“No.”
Elizabeth’s heart dropped. Here was yet another person turning her down. Just how many disappointments must she endure?
“I’m going to do you one better.” A mischievous twinkle lit in Caroline’s eyes. “I’m going to teach you how to cheat at poker.”
“Oh, Caro, truly?”
“Truly, as long as you promise only to play with me and never tell Grandfather I taught you.”
“Done and done.”
Minutes later, Elizabeth sat across from her cousin at a small table in a parlor with green wallpaper and countless paintings on every wall.
Caroline held a deck of cards in her hands, a secretive smile on her face. “There are three basic rules to cheating.”
Feeling incredibly alive and more awake than she had in weeks, Elizabeth clasped her hands together in her lap and patiently waited for Caroline to reveal the first rule.
“Number one. Always maintain control of the game.” She shuffled the deck as she spoke, shifting the placement of the cards with a fast, sure hand. That sort of natural confidence and skill must have taken years of practice.
“You maintain control in two ways.” She squared the deck. “The first is rather obvious, but imperative. Always deal the cards yourself. The second requires feminine wiles.”
Elizabeth couldn’t fathom the need for those in a game of chance. “What sort of wiles?”
“That’s a lesson for another time. Suffice it to say, you keep the other players’ attention on you and not their cards.” Caroline batted her eyelashes. “This is incredibly important when you’re in the process of dealing.”
With a flourish, she placed the deck of cards in her palm and, with fast, quick flicks, tossed them around the table one by one into five individual piles. Her hands moved at such speed, Elizabeth could hardly keep up.
“We won’t be able to do this once you leave for London,” Caroline said without looking at the table.
“Is that your subtle way of trying to talk me out of going?”
Caroline smiled. “Is it working?”
“Caro,” Elizabeth said on a sigh. “You know I love you, and I would like nothing more than to—”
“Say no more.” Head lowered, she reordered the deck of cards, switching the top half with the bottom half. “This must be your decision.” She lifted her gaze. “My only wish is to see you happy.”
That was her wish as well. There were countless reasons to go to England. But there were just as many keeping her here, the woman sitting across the table one of the most persuasive.
Elizabeth thought of the rest of her family. The cause of her argument with her father was something to consider. One day, he would forgive her mother. He would let Katherine return to New York, if not to St. James House, then to another home.
Then what?
Caroline interrupted her train of thought with another rule. “Number two. Avoid winning too often.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the game. Refer back to the first rule as to why. Successful cheating begins with control.”
Caroline spent the next ten minutes explaining the rules of poker, using the hands she’d dealt as examples.
When they had gone through all five sets of cards, Elizabeth was slightly confused. “It seems luck plays a rather large role in winning.”
“Which is why you must control the d
eck. Let me show you what I mean.” She collected the cards from the table in a seemingly orderly fashion. While her hands were busy, she turned the conversation to her honeymoon, expanding on the various sites she and Jackson had seen.
Enthralled, Elizabeth found herself asking all sorts of questions about each of the cities they’d toured. Before she knew it, Caroline had dealt another five hands and was pushing back from the table, grinning broadly.
She’d done something during the deal, but Elizabeth couldn’t figure out what. “What did I miss?”
“This.” Caroline revealed the hand she’d dealt herself—a royal flush.
Elizabeth gasped. “You just cheated.” She looked at the cards laid out on the table. “But I don’t know how you did it.”
“Let me show you.”
Fascinated, Elizabeth watched her cousin choose another hand from the cards left on the table, plus two extra. She placed the seven cards on the bottom of the deck, careful to keep them there while she shuffled. Every time she dealt a card to herself, she pulled it off the bottom of the deck, while she gave the other players cards off the top.
The first time through this process, Caroline worked slowly so Elizabeth could see what she was doing. The second time, her hands moved with phenomenal speed.
“Do it again.”
Caroline did as she requested. Even when Elizabeth watched the procedure closely, she failed to detect the con. “You are very good.”
“I had to be.” She left the rest unsaid. Cheating at cards had been a matter of survival for Caroline, something she would never have done had there been any other choice.
“Your turn.” She handed the deck of cards to Elizabeth. “We’ll start with shuffling.”
While Elizabeth attempted to copy her cousin’s earlier moves, Caroline revealed the third and final rule. “Never fleece a man of limited means.”
“That seems only fair.” Now that they were deep in the game, Elizabeth would have asked Caroline more about her childhood, specifically the kind of men she’d fleeced. But she heard the crisp strike of boot heels coming from the hallway.
“We’re about to be found out,” she whispered.
Caroline didn’t seem concerned, which said much about her marriage. Clearly, Jackson knew about his wife’s past and the things she’d done in order to feed herself. Yet he didn’t hold her actions against her. Probably, like Elizabeth, he admired her for having overcome her impoverished upbringing.
The men appeared in the doorway.
Luke entered the room first, took in the scene, and, reading the situation accurately, bellowed, “What’s going on here?”
Luke ignored the irritation in his tone, the thickness in his throat. What he could not ignore was his panic. Elizabeth had begun making her way down her list—on her own, without him—and she was already on number five. He’d read far enough down the page to know what came next.
Ask a man to dance.
There was a ball scheduled next week at the Waldorf-Astoria, thrown by family friends in honor of Penelope’s engagement. Elizabeth would surely be there. Luke could hardly contain his dread. If she approached the wrong man . . .
The thought didn’t require finishing to send his gut tossing.
Elizabeth was more stubborn than he’d imagined. She was also delusional if she thought he would allow her to continue ticking off items as if there were no consequences for her actions. There were always consequences.
“Explain yourself.” The words sounded imperious even to his ears. He didn’t care. He had to get through to her. Someway, somehow, he had to appeal to her sense of reason.
“Though I owe you no explanation, as you have surely ascertained, I am playing poker.” She said this in an entirely rational tone.
A very irrational emotion slammed through him hard and fast. “What game did you say you were playing?”
“Poker.”
He felt his eyes widen.
“No, that’s not quite accurate.” She lifted her chin, the blue world of her eyes full of defiance. “My cousin was teaching me how to cheat at poker.”
Luke had forgotten the other woman in the room. At the reminder, he rounded on Caroline. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“She asked.”
The soft chuckle coming from the man at his side had Luke glaring at his friend. He unclenched his jaw long enough to say, “You approve of this?”
“I don’t disapprove.” Jackson chuckled again. “It’s not as if Elizabeth is planning to embark on a life of crime.”
“That remains to be seen,” he muttered under his breath. Having failed to read through the entirety of her list, Luke had no idea what the obstinate woman had planned. For all he knew, she could have included countless unlawful activities.
Probably, she hadn’t; this was Elizabeth after all. But the possibility was there.
In that moment, his apprehension was overwhelmed with a primal need to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the world, from herself. From him, and men like him who would prey on such innocence.
He looked at her again and caught his breath at the eyes staring back at him. They were huge in her face, and slightly worried. Good. She should be worried.
“This madness has to stop.” He did not give her a chance to reply. His next words rode along on a rush of irritation. “I want your promise, and I want it now.”
Her eyes narrowed, her expression ripening with defiance. Under different circumstances, Luke might find her backbone admirable. She looked stunning in that moment, her righteous indignation coloring the delicate, sculpted bones of her cheeks.
Luke lost his train of thought. He knew he had a point to make. At the moment, he could do no more than stare at the long, spiked lashes encircling those enormous eyes. Elizabeth St. James was a beauty.
Not the point.
What was the point?
From somewhere off to his left, Jackson said his name.
“Luke,” he repeated when Luke patently ignored him. “Don’t you think you’re turning a simple game of cards into a far bigger concern than the situation warrants?”
Perhaps he was. Perhaps he wasn’t. If only he’d taken the opportunity to read Elizabeth’s list in its entirety, he would know for sure. “I’ll admit that teaching her how to play poker is a relatively tame endeavor. Teaching her how to cheat at poker is not.”
“Cheat, such a harsh word,” Caroline said, her lips pursed primly. “I was merely demonstrating a unique approach to a game of cards that will ensure my dear cousin wins every hand she plays in the future.”
Luke gritted his teeth. There were too many people in the room, too many allies on Elizabeth’s side.
“I’d like to speak with Elizabeth alone.”
Silence fell as Jackson and Caroline considered his request. They looked to one another, no doubt preparing to argue with him.
Luke didn’t give them the chance. “I’m not going to harm her, if that’s your concern. I merely have things to say I don’t want either of you hearing.”
“You’re not helping your case,” Jackson argued as only a man with a law degree could.
“Nevertheless.”
In the end, it was Elizabeth who settled the matter. “I will give you five minutes.”
Oh, she would, would she? “I need ten.”
“Five, no more.”
“Fine, I’ll talk fast. You”—he pointed at Jackson, then signaled to his wife—“leave us.”
When the door closed behind them, Luke turned to Elizabeth. He was trying very hard not to think of the last time they’d been alone. He was trying even harder not to take her in his arms for an encore performance of the kiss that hadn’t really been a kiss at all.
Splitting hairs.
Despite his growing agitation, Luke meant what he’d said. He had no intention of harming her. This meeting was about protecting her from herself. And, possibly, from him.
He clasped his hands together behind his back and adopted a reason
able tone. “I thought we agreed this morning that you and I were going to reformulate your plan.”
Gaining her feet, she moved to a spot before him, while also keeping a polite distance. Now she showed caution? Now?
“That was your idea, not mine,” she reminded him. “If you may recall, I did not agree to your suggestion.”
And yet, he’d held out hope that she would. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I’m trying to protect your reputation.”
“I . . . know.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and, standing in that vulnerable pose, she looked small and fragile. She also looked . . . crushed, which only served to make him feel more protective. More frustrated.
If only I could make her understand.
When he spoke his voice was too rough, too full of the annoyance he couldn’t completely tamp down. “I’m not opposed to helping you test the boundaries. I’m merely opposed to the route you’ve chosen. It’s reckless.”
“I am not”—she unwrapped her arms and poked him in the chest, hard—“reckless.”
She went for another poke. This time, he caught her wrist before she made contact. “I didn’t say you were. You’re twisting my words. I said your plan is reckless.”
“I spent a lot of time thinking it through.”
Not enough.
Holding his silence, and her wrist, he cocked his head at a sardonic angle. Saying nothing seemed to be the wisest approach.
She tried to tug her wrist free.
He held on with a firm but gentle grip.
“Think about it, Luke.” Tug. “I came to my cousin.” Tug. “In the privacy of her home.” Tug, tug. “And asked her to teach me how to play cards.”
“You mean cheat at cards.”
“Whatever.” She waved her free hand in the air as if batting away a pesky fly rather than a valid argument. “My point is that my actions were far from reckless. In fact, I would argue the opposite. No one but the four of us need ever know what happened here tonight.”
He found himself oddly comforted by her argument. This time, when she tugged on her wrist, he let her go. “How many items have you ticked off your list?”
