“There is some trick,” Montrose continued to argue, surging toward her. “She has cards hidden on her person.”
A jolt of real fear filled Ellen, and she leaned back as Montrose came for her.
Joseph stepped up immediately, not only blocking Montrose’s path to her, but punching him across the face and sending him reeling as well. “How dare you attack my beloved?” he demanded, taking up a position as Ellen’s defender.
Montrose was so stunned by the blow that it took him a moment of staggering before he could stand straight. “It was a trap, one I should not have allowed myself to be led into.”
Ellen stood. She still held the paper Montrose had used to bid his shares in Westminster’s building scheme in one hand. “Might I suggest in the future, Mr. Montrose, that if you sit down to a game of cards, you make certain you know who you’re playing with. I did not cheat. I never cheat, as any number of the officials and fellow players of the many, many tournaments I have played in throughout America’s West will tell you. My father will tell you as well. He is well known to have been one of the best card sharps in all of America.”
“You—” That was as far as Montrose got before words failed him and he could only gape at Ellen.
Joseph stepped fully to Ellen’s side, resting a hand on the small of her back. “My fiancée is as clever as she is beautiful, Montrose. It is something London society seems to have forgotten.” He glanced to Westminster. “I hope you will not forget the assistance Miss Garrett—very soon to be Mrs. Rathborne-Paxton—has given you, Your Grace, when you and your wife and daughters see her in public or make their guest lists for balls and such.”
Ellen wanted to laugh. Not only was Joseph standing up for her in the most brilliant of ways, he was chastising a duke in the process.
“Believe me, Mr. Rathborne-Paxton, I will not forget,” Westminster said with a respectful bow for Ellen.
“My associates and I will not forget either,” the rough man who had guarded Montrose through the entire game said, stepping forward. He grabbed Montrose unceremoniously by the back of his collar. “We won’t forget that this bastard owes us tens of thousands of pounds. We won’t forget that he lost at cards to a woman, or that that means he can’t pay us now. We won’t forget any of that as we find a way to make him pay.”
“No!” Montrose’s eyes went wide in panic as the man marched him out of the room. “I can pay you. I can find a way. The men in that room are guilty of numerous sins. I could—”
Montrose’s words were cut off abruptly once the guard had pushed him off into the hall and the two of them disappeared. Ellen didn’t want to contemplate what might have happened to Montrose. She didn’t want to think too closely about what might happen to him now, now that he was bankrupt and in debt to what seemed to be some very bad men.
“I believe that’s that problem taken care of,” Mr. Long said with a wicked grin.
Ellen swallowed, feeling a little sick. She turned to Joseph, hoping he might have a way to make it better.
Joseph let out a heavy sigh. “I do not think things will turn out well for Montrose, but I do believe he has made his own bed.”
“If he hadn’t ruined the lives of so many or sought to ruin them, he could have walked away from my house in peace,” Westminster said, shaking his head.
“At least it’s done,” Lord Cathraiche said. He smiled across the room at Joseph. “Well done, brother.”
The words were simple, but they lifted Ellen’s heart. Mostly because she could see how they affected Joseph. He stood a little taller, smiled at her with a deeper fondness and a sense of pride and relief.
“Yes,” she said. “Well done, my darling.”
She didn’t care who was there watching, she couldn’t resist moving in to kiss Joseph, though it was just a quick peck on his lips instead of the sort of kiss she truly wanted. As she pulled away from him, she saw the same light of desire sparking in Joseph’s eyes as she felt within herself.
“Perhaps you should take me home now,” she said with a slight lift of one eyebrow, hoping Joseph would understand what she was truly asking.
“Yes, I think that would be wise,” Joseph answered his voice hoarse.
They turned to move, but before they did, Mr. Long stopped them with a laugh. “Just a moment,” he said, looking delighted with the situation. “There are a few things that need settling first.”
“Matters are not already settled?” Westminster asked. He glanced to Lord Cecil and Mr. Foley, as if apologizing to his friends for the further complications of the evening.
“Not quite,” Mr. Long said. He moved closer to Ellen, then nodded to the paper she still held. “Do you know how great a share of your building enterprise Montrose owned?” he asked Westminster.
Westminster shrugged and said, “It cannot be a large share.”
Mr. Long laughed. “It was thirty percent, Your Grace. Miss Garrett—soon to be Mrs. Rathborne-Paxton—now owns thirty percent of your building project.”
Ellen gasped and looked at the paper with Montrose’s writing on it. She wasn’t entirely certain what it meant, and she wasn’t certain whether a thirty percent stake in a building scheme was a great amount or a little, but judging by the shock and astonishment on the faces of the other men in the room, particularly Lord Cecil and Mr. Foley, she thought perhaps it was a lot.
Mr. Long confirmed that a moment later, still laughing, when he said, “Congratulations, Your Grace. Your chief business partner for the Fitzrovia development is no longer a silent, anonymous party, it is a card-playing cowgirl from Wyoming.”
“I am not a cowgirl,” Ellen corrected him, though her mouth was already twitching into a grin at the thought. She lifted the slip of paper and smiled at it. “I will not protest the rest, though. Do we have shareholders meetings, Your Grace? Would you like me to visit you in your place of business to discuss the details of the project?”