All I Want (6 page)

Meaningless? Anthony would have laughed if so much wasn’t riding on his continued lucky streak. For him, the turn of the cards meant the difference between eating or not. Between having a roof to sleep under or not. Between being able to look his loved ones in the eyes or consigning them to poverty.

Thank God, up ’til now, Lady Fortune had only worked her calming magic on Anthony, or he would not have won a penny. The sight of white knuckles and trembling fingers was his cue to wager big.

Then again, Fate alone dealt the hands. All the subtle cues in the world were useless without the capacity to win.

He glanced down at his final card. Indescribable joy spread through him. He should never have doubted Lady Fortune. Miss Devon could calm Leviston with as many reassuring words as she wished, because Anthony’s hand was unstoppable. A rush of excitement surged through him. These were truly the best cards he’d ever been dealt in his life. The best cards anyone had ever been dealt. All three of his cards had been the three highest trumps.

Leviston was about to go home in tears.

“All in.” Anthony dropped the entire contents of his purse next to his twenty pounds. “Forty per player if you stay in.”

“Curse you, Fairfax.” Color drained from Leviston’s face, but he kept a stiff upper lip and ponied up his blunt. “This is my last hand.”

Her porcelain face as smooth as a doll’s, Miss Devon placed her purse alongside her bet.

A twinge twisted Anthony’s stomach. He felt bad about taking money from a lady. Once he won, he would return her portion to her and take the rest straight back to London. The other toffs could afford to lose a few pence, Anthony reasoned, but he needed every penny he could get in order to stay out of prison. Two thousand pounds worth of pennies, in fact.

It had taken a year of ill luck—and increasingly riskier bets in his growing desperation—to amass such mindboggling debt. Because Anthony had always gambled everywhere and with everyone, months had passed before his peers began to realize he had no means to repay them. To say they were displeased would be an understatement.

His goal was much higher than repaying his debts, of course. He wanted a pot so full of gold he couldn’t lift it without a wheelbarrow. To not only win enough never to fear being poor again, but also to win enough so that those he cared about would never lack for anything. He wanted to be
rich
. Not just for a few months or a few years. Forever.

Leviston displayed his card with a sigh. He had no chance of winning, and likely knew it.

Anthony felt oddly proud when Lady Fortune turned over her final card to reveal an astonishingly solid hand. If the trump had been different, Miss Devon would have swept the table. Alas for her, luck was firmly on his side. This was his night. His streak was invincible. Finally, he could go back home.

He flipped his final card face up with a flourish.

“I suspected as much.” Leviston covered his face with his hat.

A streak of visceral, hopeless dismay flashed across Miss Devon’s face so quickly that Anthony almost missed it.

“We can play again,” he said. “You might earn your money back.”

“I’m out,” Leviston reminded him with a sigh of regret.

“Not you.” Anthony shot him a pointed look. “Miss Devon.”

Her eyelashes lowered. “I have no more money.”

“You can wager something else.” When her blue eyes widened with sudden outrage, he regretted his unfortunate phrasing. Anthony had meant to rescue her, not offend her. He added hastily, “A lock of hair, perhaps. I’ve just the locket to put it in.”

“Don’t do it,” Leviston advised under his breath. “This man is why half of the House of Lords have grown bald.”

Miss Devon’s lips twitched. “And yet, I am tempted. The same bet? So I might have all my money back if I win?”

“Of course,” Anthony assured her magnanimously. She wouldn’t win, but he would be certain to return her portion to her after he won. This way, she would feel like she’d had a fair shot.

“Very well.” She gave him a brave smile and his insides melted with pride. “I’m in.”

As the most impartial party at the table, Leviston agreed to deal again.

Fifteen years of daily gaming was the only reason Anthony’s body didn’t betray him with even a flicker of satisfaction upon seeing his first card. It wasn’t going to be the same hand he’d held last time—that was a once-in-a-blue-moon deal he’d dream about for weeks—but it was close enough to steal the breath from his lungs. His luck was damn near unbeatable.

“I’m afraid you won’t like my hand,” he said when it was time to display the next card.

Leviston nearly choked into his cravat. “How do you
do
it?”

“And I’m afraid you won’t like mine,” Miss Devon said as she turned over hers.

Anthony froze.

No
. She couldn’t have trumped him.

It was impossible.

A cold sweat broke out on his skin as his stomach dropped…and dropped…and dropped. The room was spinning, spiraling him down into a void of nothingness and despair.

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

“I win my purse back,” Miss Devon prompted with delight as the last of the cards was played. “And your wager. And his.”

Anthony stared at her. He wasn’t breathing, wasn’t blinking. His body wasn’t responding to anything his mind offered. How could it? All Anthony could think was
no, no, no
. And,
this is the end
. He needed every florin and crown in order to keep winning.

How could he possibly have lost it all?

“Y-you can get your pound back from the serving wench,” Leviston stammered, clearly suffering just as much shock as Anthony. “A barmaid can’t have expected to keep such a sum.”

“No,” Anthony said severely. “Once I handed over that sovereign, it became hers. The barmaid’s luck was in. Mine will have to come back around.”

Somehow.

He hoped.

Miss Devon motioned toward the pile of purses. “May I, then?”

Every muscle in Anthony’s body shook with fear and desperation. The night was young. There was plenty more money to be won. Just as soon as he got his winnings back. Or at least a few shillings.
Something. Anything
.

There had to be a way.

Charm
, he reminded himself. When his empty wallet got him tossed out through doors, his charm was the one thing that could open new ones.

“Of course,” he replied easily, and pushed all three purses to her side of the table as if they contained nothing more valuable than handfuls of dirt. “Although I’m sure you’ll return the favor and allow me one last wager, will you not? Just enough to stay in the game.”

She hesitated, her fingertips mere inches from the stack of full purses. Anthony tried not to fall to his knees and beg.

No, she did not wish to return the favor. Who would? But luck was a powerful seductress, promising lies of invincibility too sweet to resist. Perhaps she would succumb to its sway.

“I’m afraid I don’t collect hair,” she hedged. “I wouldn’t want any of yours.”

Relief coursed through Anthony’s veins. He had her. Maybe. “Quite a boon, that, as I’m quite attached to my mane. Let us wager something far more valuable. If I lose, I’ll offer you my…purity.”

She burst out laughing. “I doubt you have any. You’re too handsome.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, careful not to show his desperation. “Then I shall be your slave for the evening. A servant of any sort you desire.”

“Isn’t that the same offer?” she asked teasingly.

He feigned exaggerated shock. “Never say the only servant the lady can imagine is one who offers his body. Very well. If I lose, I shall suffer through as best I can.”

“I’d rather you muck out the chimney.” Lady Fortune sent him an arch look as she picked the heavy purses up from the table.

But she didn’t say no.

Anthony held his breath as he awaited her decision. Anxiety flooded him. Miss Devon was the most unpredictable card he had ever been dealt. The wisest choice would be to leave the cards, pick up the money, and walk away. Luckily for him, gamblers weren’t known for making wise decisions.

The question was… What would Miss Devon choose?
 

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