As expected, Boden rose to the challenge. “Madam, I can assure you, losing is not a word I’m familiar with.” His gaze dropped to the brooch sewn onto her gown, scanned her exposed flesh. “I always get what I want.”
Arrogance was to be Lord Boden’s downfall.
“Then you should have no objection showing your benevolence. A gesture of goodwill will convince me of your generous nature and reinforce your assertion that you possess great expertise.”
“A gesture of goodwill?” Boden repeated, the slight tremor in his voice was accompanied by a deep line between his brows. “What are you suggesting?”
Priscilla steeled herself. “Have faith in your conviction. Make my uncle’s vowel part of the wager.”
Matthew cleared his throat. “I cannot cover your uncle’s vowel if we lose.”
Priscilla smiled. “Lord Boden need ask for nothing in return. If we lose, we shall simply pay the agreed amount. If we win, he will return both vowels. Being so highly skilled it will not be a great risk.” She looked up at the gaping crowd. “And does that not make for a worthier wager?”
Mumbled words of approval rumbled through the parlour.
Lord Boden scanned the horde of excited faces. To reject the idea would make him appear weak, a man who boasts but lacks substance. And that simply wouldn’t do.
“Very well.” The nerve in Lord Boden’s cheek twitched. “Should we lose, both vowels shall be returned though I can assure you that will not be the case.”
Mr Parker-Brown made an odd puffing noise. “Shouldn’t you consult me before—”
“The decision is made,” Boden snapped. “Mrs Chandler may trust that I will honour our bargain. That she alone has the ability to elicit my compassion for her uncle’s plight.”
Matthew grabbed the pack of cards from the centre of the card table and began shuffling them as though they had slighted him in some way.
“The excitement gleaned from taking a risk is sometimes its own reward, my lord. But I thank you for your kindness and pray you accept defeat with equal grace.” She waved her hand over the green cloth surface, hoping the tremble in her fingers wasn’t evident. “Shall we proceed with the game?”
“Do you wish to appoint a dealer, Lord Boden?” Matthew placed the cards on the table. “One of the gentlemen in the crowd, perhaps?”
“We know each other well enough to trust that one of us may deal.”
“Then I would prefer you accept the task.” Matthew pushed the deck towards him. “I’d hate for you to lose and then accuse me of cheating.”
“There are enough witnesses here to attest to honest play.”
Heavens, the gentleman’s hypocrisy knew no bounds.
Boden shuffled the cards without argument and presented the pack to Priscilla. “The lady may cut the deck to choose the trump card.”
“How kind of you, my lord.” Cutting the cards roughly halfway, she revealed the five of hearts to the gentlemen at the table, and the spectators gathered around. “The suit of one in search of perfect love. The ruler of home and family.”
Matthew smiled. “Then it was an apt choice.”
“Let’s hope Fate bestows a bounty of luck upon me.”
Boden gave an irritated sigh as he reshuffled and dealt the cards. “Before we begin, we should clarify the rules of play. Thirteen tricks to a hand. One point for every trick earned over six. The first team to reach five points win a game. The best of three games win the match. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” came their collective response.
“I recall seeing a decanter of port when I wandered in here earlier.” Lord Boden craned his neck though it was impossible to see anything beyond the wall of people. “As host shouldn’t you offer us all a drink, Chandler?”
“You may partake in a tipple, though I must decline.”
“Nonsense. In testament to the friendly spirit of the game, we must all drink together.” Boden glanced at Priscilla. “Surely, you will take a nip of port with me, something to quell the nerves.”
“After your generous offer to return my uncle’s vowel should we win, it would be rude to refuse.”
“My wife has no need to satisfy your whims.” Matthew’s defiant green eyes flashed with hatred.