cards.”
A flicker of humour in his eyes made her smile at the arrogant words as he took the next two games. When he also won the third, Demarteau threw down his hand in disgust.
“I knew I ought not have asked you to join us.”
“Then why did you?” Louis César asked, his expression genuinely curious.
Demarteau scowled. “I was being polite.”
“Ah, always so polite, Nicolas,” he said softly, his lips twitching.
They played three more games, Demarteau winning the next—and Phoebe suspected Louis César had allowed him to—before Louis César won the next two. Phoebe set down her cards with a huff.
“Well, I am only glad Alvanly doesn’t have your skill. You have the luck of the devil.”
Something shifted in Louis César’s eyes.
“Yes, le diable,” he murmured. “Well, I shall bid you a goodnight. I hope you enjoy all that Rouge et Noir has to offer. You are most welcome here. It has been a pleasure to meet you both.”
He glanced at his brother, who gave an approving nod, before leaving them alone.
“That was unfair of me,” Demarteau said, grinning at Phoebe. “But I felt you might enjoy the experience.”
Phoebe snorted. “You think I enjoy losing?”
“No, but I think you enjoyed meeting him and he you. He has little patience for most people, but tonight he was pleased.”
She nodded. “I did enjoy meeting him. I’ve never met someone as lethal with cards, though. I shall remember if we ever cross paths again.”
“If I may say so, Lady Ellisborough, you were most unlucky this evening, but I ’ave met no one who can… er… play the cards as you do. You ’ave an exceptional skill. Who taught you?”
Phoebe knew he was not speaking of the game they’d just played, but the way she had floated the cards she wanted to the top to deal to herself when playing Alvanly.
“A highwayman,” she said, knowing instinctively that this was a man who kept secrets such as those.
He frowned, the word obviously unfamiliar.
“Un bandit,” she corrected, amused as he gave a delighted bark of laughter.
“Un bandit,” he repeated, shaking his head. He wagged a finger at her. “The next time, I shall let you cheat Louis César. I think it is possible even he would not catch such skilled fingers, and the experience would do him good.”
“I should be delighted to,” she replied, meaning it. “But we return to England in the morning. However, if you are ever visiting the other side of the Channel, I should be pleased to accept the challenge. Thank you so much for this evening. It’s been fascinating.”
Demarteau bowed and took her hand, kissing her fingers before turning to Max. “Lord Ellisborough, your wife is quite remarkable. You are a lucky man.”
“Yes,” Max said, putting her hand firmly on his arm with a smile. “I am.”
Chapter 20
Dear Helena,
Phoebe will soon be home! I am so excited to see her again.
―Excerpt of a letter to Lady Helena Knight from The Most Honourable Matilda Barrington, Marchioness of Montagu.
Still the night of the 18thApril 1827. Hôtel Westminster, 2nd Arrondissement, Paris.
“Well,” Max said, as he opened the door to their rooms. “What did you make of the enigmatic brothers?”
“I hardly know what to think,” Phoebe said with a laugh, setting her cloak aside, though her thoughts had long since drifted from the brothers, as fascinating as they were. “The comte was a strange young man. So beautiful and so skilled with the cards, but….”
“Yes, but….” Max agreed. “I should not want to be on the wrong side of that one, I think. For all his brother, Nicolas, looks the part of a devil. Those angelic blue eyes hide the mind of a rapier if you ask me.”
“Hmmm,” Phoebe said, not wishing to discuss them any longer. “And what do you suppose this dress hides, Max?”
She turned to look at him, tugging at the fingers of her gloves until she could draw one from her arm, the white silk dropping to the floor. She began on the other glove as Max stilled, watching her carefully.
“I hardly dare presume,” he replied, his voice having lowered to that deep, wicked rumble that made her stomach flutter with excitement. “But I am hoping for… red ribbons.”
Phoebe grinned and cast the second glove aside before reaching for the hem of her gown. It was a deep blue silk tonight, and the cool fabric slid between her fingers as she raised her skirts. Max’s eyes darkened, and he let out a little sigh of appreciation as he saw the red ribbons on