The Diamond and the Duke by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell [Caldwell, Christi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2024-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

Part Two

They stand in Awe of her, knowing her to be a Gentlewoman born, tho’ she has had Misfortunes.

—Virtue Rewarded,

Samuel Richardson

Chapter 14

London, England

Two months later

My dearest Wesley,

I am quite adept at faro, whist, and hazard. One day, we must play together.

Lovingly Yours

Seated at his tables in London’s notorious gaming hall Blackmantel’s, playing cards with his recent friend, the Marquess of Brackley, Wesley spent the night as he’d spent so many others that had come before it.

Here in a place where men were too focused on their own vices, and drunk with spirits, no one looked too close at Wesley, and it made this place the perfect one for him.

Or it usually did.

This evening appeared to be the exception.

Distracted, Wesley tossed down a card and followed his eldest brother’s approach. Rafe’s features were set in a hard mask, the one he’d always donned when lecturing men in the mines for various infractions.

“Bloody splendid,” he muttered.

“Indeed, that was a bad hand on your part,” Brackley said, from around the cheroot clenched between his teeth. He scraped over his earnings, and then tamped out the stub. “Another round?”

The marquess had already proceeded to deal.

The last thing Wesley wanted or needed was a lecture from his big brother.

Alas . . .

Rafe reached his table. He looked Wesley over, lingering his gaze on the light growth on Wesley’s unshaved cheeks, then the half-empty bottle near Wesley’s fingers and the empty glass still in his hand. And then Rafe briefly settled a disapproving gaze on the Marquess of Brackley, who didn’t so much as glance up from the deck of cards he shuffled.

Wesley added several fingerfuls to the snifter and lifted the spirits in salute. “Brother,” he greeted. “What an unexpected pleasure. This is not your usual haunt. Care to join Brackley and I for a game of faro?”

Neither Rafe nor the marquess so much as acknowledged each other.

Rafe’s mouth tightened. “I’ve not come to partake in cards.”

Wesley nodded to Brackley and the gentleman proceeded to deal the deck. “A drink, then.” He shot a hand up, and a voluptuous beauty instantly materialized, with a silver tray rested on her bare shoulder.

“Looking for company, Your Grace?” she purred.

“Perhaps later, sweet.” He handed her several coins, softening that rejection. “Alas, my big brother requires a snifter.”

Rafe shook his head, declining the server’s attempt. “That won’t be necessary.”

The girl shrugged and then slipped off to a table filled with far more receptive gentlemen.

The moment she’d gone, Rafe looked to Lord Brackley. “Would you excuse us a moment?”

The marquess looped his thumbs in the waist of his white wool trousers, kicked back on the legs of his chair, and glanced Wesley’s way.

From the corner of his eye, Wesley caught the way Rafe’s entire body tensed. Nay, his brother wouldn’t like any part of this exchange. Since Rafe had been head of the Cheadle mines, and was accustomed to everyone and anyone heeding his wishes and orders, Brackley deferring to Wesley would have only grated.

But it was also how

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