As she did, she shot Joseph a look.
Joseph was a beat late, but he caught on swiftly enough to reach out and grasp her arm, saying, “No, no, my dear. You…you said that you wanted to feel as though you were a part of this family, and I cannot think of a better way for you to participate.” He glanced across to where Francis had moved to stand behind Prince Petrus. It seemed Francis was only there to observe the game, not to play.
“Well, if you insist,” Ellen said, taking her seat again. “What are the rules of the game again?” She blinked innocently at him, then across at the dealer.
It took everything Joseph had not to grin. He understood now how Ellen could have won so many poker games in her past. When she wanted to, she had a completely innocent face. Her youth and sweetness would have disarmed anyone and convinced them she knew nothing.
Interestingly, the guard who had been sent to watch Montrose grinned as if he had figured the whole scheme out. He even raised a hand to his mouth as if to hold back a laugh. It was a good thing Montrose was facing away from the man.
“His Grace has instructed me to keep the game as simple as possible,” the dealer said. Joseph was surprised to discover the man was American, but then again, it fit with the madness of the evening. “So we’ll be playing five card stud,” he went on, dealing the first hand. “The ante is one pound, no limits on bets.”
That was it. Without ceremony, the game began. Joseph had to scramble to put the money he’d brought on the table, as the other players had, and to toss a pound into the center of the table. Ellen brought out her purse and made a show of fumbling her bills and coins as she put them on the table, then seemed more interested in making perfect, even rows than picking up her cards.
Montrose watched her for a moment before making a sound of disgust and reaching for his cards. He had already arranged his money on the table, and Joseph was alarmed to see just how much of it he had. After arranging his cards, Montrose sent an anxious glance around the table to see how the other men were faring.
Joseph took a look as well. Prince Petrus and Long were focused on their cards with frowns. Lord Cecil and Mr. Foley were likewise lost in thought. It was then that another thing occurred to Joseph. He should have spent more time learning the rules of poker than worrying about whether Montrose would show up or how he would relieve the man of his money or try to force him to confess to his misdeeds.
Westminster, who sat to the dealer’s left, sighed and removed two cards from his hand and put them on the table. “Two,” he said, glancing over to Montrose, as if he didn’t believe for a moment the man would follow through with the game.
The dealer gave him more cards, which then meant it was Joseph’s turn to play. Joseph asked for three cards, then glanced to Ellen.
Ellen stared at her cards for a long time, frowning and biting her lips, then shook her head and asked for four cards with a disappointed sigh. For a moment, Joseph wondered what she was up to.
The hand proceeded, betting was moderate, and by the time Lord Cecil won the hand, the participants at the table were beginning to loosen up.
“So, Your Grace,” Long opened the conversation in the middle of the second hand, leaning casually back in his chair. “What do you suppose happened to your usual suppliers for that building project in Fitzrovia? It seems quite odd that all of them would come up short of materials at once.” He glanced to Montrose.
Montrose stiffened, attempting to continue focusing on his cards.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Westminster said in a flat voice, glancing from his hand to Montrose, obviously lying. “But I have spoken with the lumber company and the bricklayers, and they inform me they may be able to supply me with materials after all, thus preventing me from hiring unvetted sources.”
Montrose glanced up from his cards in alarm just as the dealer had dealt him three new ones. “That is impossible,” he snapped, but didn’t elaborate.
“Oh, it’s very possible,” Long said, folding his hand and focusing on the conversation instead. He grinned broadly at Westminster and said, “Turns out the other job they were meant to supply can wait a few months, and that the owner of that project has the ability to busy himself with something else at the moment.”
Westminster lowered his cards and gaped at Long. “You…you would do that for me?” he asked, seemingly astounded.
Long shrugged one shoulder as he leaned haphazardly against the side of his chair. “I’m not the cruel and shiftless villain that some have made me out to be,” he said, glancing to Montrose—whose hands were shaking on his cards. “Besides, I’ve done a bit of digging, and it turns out that my wife’s father, Lord Darlington, did not ruin himself and impoverish his wife and daughter all on his own. He had help.” He glanced to Montrose with a particularly vicious look.
Montrose lost all color from his face and nearly fumbled the bills that he tossed to the center of the table.
“I did not know,” Westminster said in a quiet voice, folding his hand.
“I daresay there’s lots you don’t know about me, Your Grace,” Long said in his best lower-class accent. “Perhaps you and I should get to know each other better.” He winked at the duke.
Westminster was as flustered as Montrose then. Game play continued around the table, and Joseph folded. Ellen folded too with a sigh, which made Joseph anxious. She hadn’t been making things up about knowing how to play poker, had she? So far, her playing had been less than notable. But perhaps that was the point.
Everyone folded but Petrus and Montrose. Worse than that, Montrose ended up winning the hand. It made the color come back to his face and a light of relief spark in his eyes, as if he thought he might have a chance of winning after all.
“And what about you, Prince Petrus?” Long asked as they all put their ante in the middle of the table as another hand was dealt. “What sort of business are you in?”
“Shipping,” Prince Petrus answered, which had Joseph raising his eyebrows as he picked up his new hand. Petrus smiled modestly and went on with, “I am a member of the royal family of Aegiria, of course, which is a bit of a fluke and a concession on the part of my grandfather, the king. My mother is a princess, you see, but she was led astray in her youth, the result of which was me.” He glanced at his cards, then turned to Montrose. “I believe you knew my mother, Mr. Montrose. Princess Astrid of Aegiria? I believe you introduced her to the Marquess of Vegas.”
Montrose nearly dropped his cards as he sorted them in his hand. He sent Petrus a deeply anxious look, then said, “I do not remember anyone of that name, no.”
Joseph was tempted to grin. Clearly, Montrose did remember. Joseph didn’t know the entire story—and judging by the look Francis wore as he stood against the wall, watching the game, he didn’t know either—but Montrose must have had a great deal to do with Lord Vegas interfering with Petrus’s mother.
Petrus confirmed as much by saying, “She remembers you, sir. She remembers the way you acted as a messenger for her and Lord Vegas, and the way you lied to her about Lord Vegas’s character and intentions to leave his wife and marry her. In fact, she believes you were responsible for the lengths to which she went with Lord Vegas.”