as if that would put him out of range of Cecilia’s ire.
“Now as dealer, I will cut the deck. And you must state whether you think the next card will be higher or lower than the card I show. For simplicity’s sake, let us agree to wager on only whether the card will be higher.”
“Oh yes,” Cecilia said sweetly, “do keep it as simple as possible.”
Jess could see that Beatrice, too, had given up on trying to salvage the evening and was waiting to gather up the pieces.
“Excellent!” Destry gave Cecilia a winning smile, and Jess was sure he had no idea how many insults he was showering on the woman he hoped to marry.
If only to keep his run of bad moves consistent, or perhaps to illustrate how bad his luck was, the card Destry drew was the queen of spades.
“How lucky for me,” he said with the enthusiasm no true gambler would ever express. “You can wager, if you wish, but there are only six chances for you to best me.”
Both players shook their heads and Destry won. Similar draws occurred for two more hands. That was when Cecilia decided she had had enough.
“Thank you, my lord, but I find I am fatigued by the play, and must say good night.” She stood before Destry could say anything. “Beatrice?”
Without waiting for more than her sister’s glance, Cecilia made her way to the door. Beatrice usually led the way, but not tonight. She jumped up from her chair and followed her sister.
How fascinating, Jess thought. So this was Cecilia Brent angry. Very calm, very controlled, but near a boil all the same. No one, except the drunk and completely oblivious Destry, could miss the heat.
Destry ran after her. “Wait, wait, you can’t leave.”
Cecilia turned to speak and saw that he was about to grab her arm. Again. She moved it and he fell forward. Destry maintained his footing, but ran his head into the wall with a distinct thud.
He staggered back and fell on his ass with his hands raised to his head. There was no blood, but Jess was sure the man was seeing stars.
“Oh dear, the marquis has fallen down,” Cecilia announced to the room in general. She stepped around him and out the door without a backward glance. Beatrice did hesitate, glancing at Jess who shook his head. “Leave!” he said.
She nodded and left him with Destry.
“Go after them, Jess.” Destry looked up, wincing as even that movement made his head ache. “Go after them and explain.”
“Explain what?” Jess could not help but vent his frustration. “Yes, now that I give it some thought, I could easily explain that you are a buffoon but only when you are drunk, which happens so rarely it’s a guarantee of disaster.”
Destry nodded, but stopped when a spasm of pain reminded him of his head injury.
“I suspect they will close the door in my face before I even half explain, but I will try.” Only because it matters to Beatrice. Her sensibilities should not matter to him so much—that they did was proof positive that he was falling deeper and deeper under her spell.
The footman opened the door for Jess, and as he left he could hear Nora Kendrick directing the servant who was ministering to Destry. “Help him up, and make sure that he has a walk in the fresh air.”
Relieved that the man’s folly was not life-threatening, Jess began the long walk to the front of the house and down a flight to the second floor, where he had seen Beatrice upon his arrival. From what they had said over the last few days, he understood that the twins were sharing one of the finer suites.
He could neither see them nor hear their footsteps or voices. The sisters must be all but running from the game room. Not that he blamed them.
Jess wished that he could resolve the headache that he was facing as he tried to smooth over Destry’s mess. If only the apothecary sold a tonic that erased memory. It would solve so many problems. Even some of his own.
Chapter Twenty-two
JESS SAW THE last of Beatrice’s green dress as she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. He did not think about propriety as he knocked. It was Beatrice and not the maid who opened it and she was, naturally, taken aback by his presence.
“Now is not a good time, my lord.”
It was an understatement. From what he could hear, Cecilia’s temper had