Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

He’d built a reputation as a carefree rake. A man who lived for excess and didn’t have a care in the world.

But moments like these, Bash felt his father rearing his ugly countenance from deep inside. The elder Duke of Devonhall was a man with an iron will and a hard temper. Whose need for perfection meant that he was never satisfied and often cruel in his disappointment.

Bash had vowed never to be like his father but he also didn’t wish to be cheated.

He rose from his chair. “What should we do?”

“Let’s get Infamy and Vanity and see what they think. Perhaps they have a way to test them or catch them in the act of cheating. We wouldn’t want to accuse them if they aren’t actually doing anything wrong.”

Bash nodded. It was a good plan. This was why a man had partners. He didn’t need to worry or get upset. His friends would come up with a plan to deal with their potential thieves.

He was relaxed but he wasn’t a fool. And any gambler trying to cheat him would understand not to take advantage of the Duke of Decadence.

Chapter Two

Isabella tried not to shift in her seat, but she found herself adjusting her chair for the third time in as many minutes.

Eliza’s hand flexed on her shoulder and her sister leaned down to whisper closer to her ear. “Would you relax? You’re going to make the other players suspicious.”

Isabella gave a stiff nod. Make them nervous? She was nervous.

Not about the game. She had that well in hand. Had since the beginning. But just to her right, a curtain kept fluttering.

And the dealer was eyeing her.

And the other players were beginning to grumble.

She’d heard one mutter. “How can one man win that much?”

And she could swear another had said, “Cheater,” under his breath.

“We should go soon,” she whispered back, giving Eliza a pleading stare over her shoulder.

Eliza held up her hand, gesturing for Isabella to stay put. “Just one more round.”

Isabell

a let out a long sigh but turned back to finish the hand. “One more,” she mumbled back as she laid her hand down and collected her winnings.

Several men protested, one banging the table.

Another flashed a pistol at his waist.

Her hand shook as her heart hammered in her chest. She should ignore Eliza and leave the table. Stand and walk away before they got any madder.

But as she tried to push out of the chair, her legs gave a decided wobble. And Eliza touched her shoulder. Was Eliza going to push her back down or help her out? Her sister was their strength. But she could also push them hard when she had a goal in her sights.

Right now her goal was collecting the money they’d need.

“You’ve had far too much whisky, love,” Eliza purred. “Let me help you up.”

“Love?” the man just to her left mumbled. “Why don’t you come here, and I’ll show you love.”

Isabella swallowed. They’d stayed too long. The crowd was getting restless.

She took Eliza’s hand and started to rise, pulling a pouch from her pocket to collect her winnings. “I do believe you’re right. My head.” And she swiped a hand across her forehead, trying to be rough like a man but afraid she’d just looked awkward and strange. With shaking fingers, she started dumping piles of coins into the bag. “Thank you for the game, gentlemen.” She tried to make her voice low and deep, but it sounded strange to her ears.

“You can’t leave now.” A third player stood, clenching his fists. “You have to give us a chance to win back our money.”