Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)

Not that he would have her, especially not if she stole the money from his cousin under his nose. Still.

Jenny swallowed this foolishness. “Simple rules. Five cards. Whoever wins more tricks takes the entire pool. You put in everything you have—some ninety thousand pounds. I wager…”

Jenny pushed away her uncertainty and reached behind the waistband of her skirt. It took a few moments to pull the small pouch of coins into her hand. It had seemed so light when she’d sold the dress just that morning. Now the sack weighed heavily in her hand. She upended it, and small change rolled about the table with a clatter.

“I wager sixteen pounds, five shillings.” And eight pence, although in the face of Ned’s wealth, there was hardly any need to mention those sad coins. If she did, she might let the two men who watched her with open mouths realize that all her wealth in the world was laid out in specie before them.

Sixteen pounds was a number Jenny understood. It fit inside her head, a sum she could hold in her hand. It was all it took for a shrewd woman to survive a quarter while she looked for other work. It was bread and cheese and the occasional apple for months. It was a roof over her head. It was three months spent trading kisses with Gareth while she tried to find an honest alternative to her former career. Sixteen pounds was Jenny’s last hope.

She glanced at Ned. It need not be.

“That’s not equitable,” Ned groused. “Ninety thousand against a few pounds?” He swept his hand across the table.

Jenny tried not to wince as her coins went flying. “That seems about right,” she snapped. “Everything you own pitted against everything I own. You want to destroy your life? At least have the courage to do it all at once like a man.”

“Very well.” Ned drew himself up, anger hardening his features. “I accept. You’ve already ruined my life once. I might as well let you have a second go at it.”

She could give most of it back, after Ned was well and truly shocked to his senses. What if she retained a mere four hundred pounds, as a fee of some kind? Maybe a thousand pounds, enough to keep her in independence for the remainder of her life. She could find the respect she’d wanted, no matter who her parents had been. After all, money spoke.

But temptation whispered.

Jenny’s head buzzed with the possibilities. Her hands trembled.

Who am I? The question echoed in her head.

The hubbub of the hell seemed to cut off around her, as smoothly as driving rain turning to drizzle. Quiet blanketed her mind. For a bare moment, everyone else disappeared. There was nothing but Jenny and an immense stillness in the midst of a sea of temptation. Into that great silence, she repeated herself. Who am I?

She hadn’t expected an answer. But it came anyway, from somewhere deep inside of her.

Who do you want to be?

It was all the answer Jenny needed. The world thawed. Noise returned, almost deafening after that slice of tranquility. But despite the frenetic worry that boiled around her, she carried that still center inside her. It did not waver. No mere fear of poverty could budge it.

Behind Ned, Gareth reached out toward his cousin’s shoulder. He stopped, inches away. Ned huddled in his chair, and didn’t glance behind him. Finally, Gareth drew his hand back and wiped it against his trouser leg.

Jenny smiled and picked her own cards from the leftovers and arranged them in order in her hand, from lowest to highest.

Ned gathered up his cards—a handful of carefully constructed threes and fours—and sighed. He let a card fall on the table. Jenny trumped it easily with the jack she’d dealt herself. She took the next trick, too, and yawned as she did.

She’d managed at least one thing. Ned clutched his cards, holding them as if they mattered. For the first time since she’d seen him that evening, he cared about losing.

Across the thin table, Ned’s despair was as palpable and acrid as the smoky air Jenny breathed. Already, she’d managed to convince him he had something to lose. Jenny wanted to smile. Instead, she played her next card.

It was the two of clubs. Ned stared in disbelief. Every card in his hand could beat it. Tentatively, he selected one and placed it on the table. He won the next round, too. They were left with one card each in their hands, and an even score.

“You’re cruel,” Ned said bitterly. “Trying to show me how close I could come?”

He threw the four of diamonds on the table. Gareth set his hands on Ned’s shoulders.

For one last time, Jenny was Madame Esmerelda again, smiling that mysterious smile at two men who had no idea what would happen next, but every expectation of a poor result.

She placed her card gently on the table.

Ned and Gareth stared, twin expressions of shock writ over their faces. Neither moved. Then Gareth reached out one finger to prod its edge—gently—as if somehow, he could not believe what he had seen.