He shrugged. 'There were expenses.' Then he pushed his night's winnings towards her across the table. 'If you wish more, then take. Or I can write you a bank draft.'
'That is not why I am here. I come to return what you have given me, for it was fairly won.' She reached deeper into the purse and removed the deed. 'And this as well.'
'It is yours.'
'Was mine. My father's actually. In the distant past. But it has not been in the family for some time.'
'How fortunate that you have it again,' he said, pretending that the matter did not concern him.
'I no longer wish it. That is why I have been trying to return it to you.' She was staring back at him, her kissable mouth fixed in a resolute chaperone's smile.
'Nor do I. That is why I will not take it back.'
'I understand what you are trying to do by returning it to me. But you do not have to. It is kind of you to wish a different life for me than the one I had, but it is too late. While you might learn to live with it, you cannot change the past, Nathan.'
She had called him Nathan. The other words in the sentence paled to insignificance, leaving only the sweet tone of her voice and the sound of his name. For a moment, it gave him some small bit of hope. 'If there is some way to soften the memory of them, I wish to try. Or to make you forget altogether.' He frowned. 'Although there are some things, one night in particular, that I wish you to remember in every detail.'
There was not a trace of blush upon her cheek to reveal that she understood him. Perhaps she had lost the ability, after the previous evening's activities. Or maybe it was a sign of rare composure and her ability to maintain an even keel, though the waters were rough.
She ignored his hint and went on. 'Your life was more difficult than mine, and you have been less content. There is much I would not change. More than one night, certainly. It does not do to put too much emphasis on the actions of a single day, whether they be good or bad.'
Did she mean their night together? Or his night at the tables with her father? Or perhaps both. For then she said, 'Whatever the past between us, giving me the house and the money means nothing. They are not what matters. They do not indicate whether a person's character is changed or constant.' She pushed them back across the table.
He glanced at the papers and gave a shudder of revulsion at the sight of the deed lying in front of him on the baize where it had been so many years before. 'My character has changed for the better from what it once was. If the change is insufficient and you do not like it as it is, then I am sorry. And if you do not believe me to be constant, then tell me what I can do to prove it to you.'
'You certainly do not need to do--' she waved a hand over the deed '--this.'
'And yet, I have.' Her stubbornness over the thing made his head ache, and he wished that she would take it and leave him with what little peace he had, instead of coming to give him a fresh reminder of how unsuitable he was. 'I will not take it back. I wish I had given it to you on the first day, the moment I realized who you were. It and the damned letter, and anything else I could think to give. And then I could have walked away from you before speaking a word, with a clear conscience.'
And that had an effect on her, at last. Her eyes grew round with shock and hurt. He could not help himself and hurried to soften the blow. 'Do not misunderstand. My acquaintance with you was pleasant. More than pleasant. But it was a mistake. For now it hurts me to think of even the most pleasant moments, knowing they are all in the past. And the association hurt you as well. I could have spared us both so much grief by tearing up your father's note on the night he gave it to me.' He gestured to the money and the deed. 'This is all I have left to give you. Please, remove them from the table. If they are not stakes in a game, they do not belong here.'
'Stakes.' Her eyes had a stubborn sparkle. 'That is all these are to you? Nothing more? Then I...I wish to wager them.'
He laughed. 'You have no idea what you are talking about. And you know nothing of cards or gambling.'
'On the contrary. I may know nothing of cards, but I know more than you think about gambling and gamblers. And I know exactly what I am doing. You will accept this challenge from me, because you cannot help yourself. It is like a madness, isn't it? You have no control over it.'
Too true, although he did not like to admit it. But he could master it if he tried, he was sure. It was just that there was seldom a reason to try.