Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,102

won’t turn Greys down.”

A small cry escaped before she could smother it.

“Shh…” Mr. Spencer squeezed her arm. “You aren’t going soft on us now, are you?”

His voice was matter-of-fact, almost as if this was the sort of thing they did every day.

“No.”

“Good girl.” And then he indicated some gentlemen across the floor—Lord Greystone and Lord Brightly, making their way toward the back of the room. “Shall we, Miss Jackson?”

The music was drawing to a close. Jules bowed to Felicity, and a murmur rose around her as familiar faces finally realized that she was in attendance.

Charley forced a tight smile. “Indeed, Mr. Spencer. Lead the way.”

Unwilling to be stopped and most definitely not wanting to explain herself to anyone, Charley kept her gaze on the back of Mr. Spencer’s wide shoulders as he led her away from the mostly female guests, through a long corridor and into a dark plush room with red velvet on the walls. The conversation humming around the decidedly masculine abode sounded deep and rumbling.

The Card Room.

A few gentlemen who she knew were Lady Westerley’s guests exclaimed when they caught sight of her, but Mr. Spencer kept right on pulling her along. He didn’t stop until they’d reached the far corner where Lord Greystone was seated along with Lord Brightley, another man who Charley couldn’t remember, along with Lords Chaswick and Manningham-Tissinton.

Peter Spencer leaned in the corner.

“What’s the meaning of bringing that gel in here, Spencer?” the old one Charley couldn’t remember asked with a sneer, a disgusting-looking cigar hanging between his lips.

“You’ll forgive me, Your Grace.” Mr. Spencer made a quick bow.

Oh, yes. She’d forgotten that aside from the Duke of Blackheart, there had been another one. The Duke of Wrentail? Or was it Wrenhill? Charley only remembered that this particular gentleman hadn’t spent much time with the other guests over the past two weeks. “Miss Jackson isn’t interested in dancing this evening, but has, ahem, a considerable purse with which to wager.”

“Would be nice to play with someone willing to wager more than vowels. What do you say, Wagtail?” Chaswick turned with a lecherous smile. “I, for one, could use some weight in my pockets.”

“Brightly?” The duke raised bushy eyebrows questioningly across the table.

The earl scowled deeply. He had to know precisely who she was and the threat she posed to his daughter.

Charley removed the drawstring tie from around her wrist and when Mr. Spencer held out a hand to her, she dropped the full weight into his flattened palm. He then made something of a fuss of loosening the strings and peering inside before shrugging. “What do you say, gentlemen? Who are we to deny the lady a little entertainment?”

“Do you play much?” Lord Brightly’s eyes matched his name as they shifted from her face to the velvet pouch she’d brought along and then back again.

“With my father on occasion. And with a few of his employees.”

“You’re that American chit.” The duke was looking her up and down now as well. And then he laughed. Charley didn’t have to think hard to guess what he was thinking: How good can a woman be at poker? An American at that? Charley relaxed her mouth into a vapid expression. The biggest mistake a person could ever make while playing cards was to underestimate one’s opponents.

These men had been wagering over cards for longer than she’d been alive. She needed to remain alert while appearing seemingly relaxed. For added measure, she pursed her lips into a pout.

“Can’t hurt, can it?” Lord Brightly finally added, indicating the only empty chair left at the table. “Eh, Greystone?”

The look Lord Greystone sent her way ought to have turned her to ice. “As long as she isn’t chatty.” She could almost believe that he would send her packing if she so much as giggled.

Mr. Spencer pulled out a chair and with another glance around the table, Charley dropped into it slowly.

“Shall we, gentlemen?”

Chapter 29

PIN MONEY

For the first few hands, Charley played conservatively, watching the other participants, trying to get a read on their expressions, on their motions. Because not only would she have to win one particular hand against Lord Brightly, she needed to manipulate the game so that the others dropped out. And although Lords Greystones and Chaswick might make some attempt to assist her, she’d rather they did not. It would be too obvious.

She folded her hand and watched Lord Chaswick scoop up the pot. She did not believe he would do anything to make this easy for her.

Ironically,