Princess Charming (Legendary Lovers 1)

“And several of them have been fighting over the privilege of taking supper with us now,” Lucy added. “Mama is to chaperone us, of course. Look, she is waving to us now. We had best hurry, Hannah.”

Maura followed Lucy’s gaze to see Priscilla beckoning them.

Before Hannah complied, however, she leaned down and whispered to Maura. “I keep pinching myself to see if I am dreaming. We have already thanked Lady Skye and Lady Katharine profusely. But please, will you convey our thanks to Lord Beaufort, Maura? I can see why he won your hand and heart.”

Both girls quickly kissed her cheek, then hastened to join their mother and their new beaux.

Maura sat frozen in place, though, the echo of Hannah’s innocent observation reverberating in her ears.

Surely it wasn’t possible.

Her gaze lifted to seek out Ash’s tall, powerful form. The roaring in her ears grew louder as the truth sank in. Ash had indeed won her heart. Against her will, against all her better judgment, she had fallen in love with him.

Jolted by the realization, Maura shook her head weakly. Ash had seduced her heart without even trying, luring her into his web of enchantment over the past week, surmounting all her defenses when she had been especially vulnerable.

Her most powerful dream was that she would find love and family and an end to loneliness, and he had shown her explicitly what it meant to be part of a passionate, loving family. She couldn’t help loving the Wilde cousins, Ash most of all.

Yet she had no earthly idea what she would do about her shocking acknowledgment. Ash didn’t love her. He was merely playing at the game of love, exploring the theory that they could be legendary lovers. As for winning her hand, their betrothal was only a charade, merely a means of defeating a common enemy.

Maura shook her head again, but when Ash returned with their wine and took his place beside her, she realized that any attempt at denial was futile.

It was far too late to protect her heart, for she had foolishly gone and fallen in love with her prince, just as Cinderella had done in the timeless fairy tale.

Somehow Maura managed to hide her newly-realized feelings of love from A

sh for the rest of the evening and during the next day. Too much was at stake for either of them to be distracted by the uncertainty of their future together—although she promised herself that as soon as the issue of her father’s vindication was settled, she would squarely face the matter of her feckless heart.

The following night, Lord Jack escorted her to Sutter’s gaming establishment. Maura had refused to be left behind, and Ash permitted her participation, saying that she needed the satisfaction of seeing her longtime nemesis exposed. For propriety’s sake, however, she went incognito, wearing a hooded domino and mask as genteel ladies often did when they wished to conceal their identities.

Sutter’s, Maura realized from the moment they were admitted, was a prosperous club, the decor sumptuous but surprisingly tasteful. There were several large rooms crowded with elegantly dressed gamesters and patrons of both sexes being served refreshments by attentive waiters. She noted a roulette wheel, as well as various card games in progress—some, such as faro, overseen by professional dealers.

Ash was already there, since he had arrived early in order to put his plan in motion. Maura’s heart leapt when she spied him sitting at the green baize card table across from Viscount Deering.

It seemed that the game had already begun.

When she took a step closer, Jack firmly grasped her arm and guided her toward the far wall.

“You agreed to observe from a distance, remember?” he reminded Maura. “We don’t want Deering to know you were complicit in his downfall, and if I allowed him to see you, Ash would have my head.”

Nodding reluctantly, she let Jack seat her so that she could watch the game from well back in the crowd. Shortly, he placed a glass of Madeira in her hand, yet Maura couldn’t drink with the knot of anxiety tightening her stomach. Even from a distance she could see that Deering’s expression was one of smug, supercilious arrogance. He clearly expected to win—and the next few hours would prove whether or not his confidence was justified.

Ash completely understood Maura’s compulsion to be present at the gaming club. He would have felt the same urgency defending his own parents, or any other member of his family, for that matter.

He also understood the imperative for him to succeed. In playing the viscount, not only was he risking the loss of Maura’s prize stallion, he was responsible for exonerating her beloved father. A heavy onus indeed.

Vingt-un was partly a game of skill and partly of luck. After being dealt two cards each, the players attempted to reach a combination closest to twenty-one points without going over that number, with court cards counting as ten points, face cards as their numerical value, and aces as either one or eleven points. The deal changed between players, depending on who won the last hand, and the dealer had the advantage of odds.

Upon arriving, Ash had met with the club owner, George Sutter, to insure the game wouldn’t be rigged ahead of time by any other parties. Jack had vouched for Sutter’s honesty, but Ash wanted the two new decks of playing cards examined by a reliable witness and noted to be free of disfigurements of any kind. He hoped to catch Deering at marking cards during the evening, since a repetition of the viscount’s game with Noah Collyer two years earlier would be highly suspect. There was also the possibility that Deering would find a way to accuse Ash himself of cheating, just as he’d done with Collyer.

Ash knew he would have to keep his wits sharp if he hoped to expose Deering for what he was: An unscrupulous bastard who preyed on the vulnerable. But for Maura’s sake, he was prepared to do whatever it took. One way or the other, he intended to flush the viscount out.

The game began innocently enough. The cards remained clean at first, Ash was convinced. But as the night wore on, faint scratches started appearing in the lower left corners of certain cards, which led him to conclude that using a sleight of hand, Deering was scoring the backs of the court cards with his signet ring.

It was the final straw for Ash. He had no qualms about employing similar unprincipled means, not necessarily to win the game, but to rile and unsettle Deering as much as possible.

The next time Ash had the deal, he marked several face cards with the same scratch, so that eventually Deering exceeded his point limit when he’d obviously expected a much different result.

When Deering eyed him suspiciously, Ash asked in an innocent tone, “Is something amiss?”