Her suspicion was confirmed when her father cursed under his breath and shoved the entirety of his money into the pot after being dealt two cards. “Enough of this,” he growled. “We end this now.”
“I’m out,” Mr. Long said immediately, putting down his cards.
“Me too.” Thaddeus followed suit, backing out of the hand.
Imogen’s father was furious. “You can’t do that. Play, you coward.”
“He has every right to sit out if he doesn’t think he has the cards,” Captain Devereux said, maintaining a level head. “I, however, have the cards.” He counted out an equivalent amount of coins to those her father had bet and shoved them into the middle.
“I’m in as well,” Lord Cunningham said, an infernal light in his eyes. He pushed a pile of coins into the huge pot.
Imogen’s father’s gamble failed spectacularly. He only had nineteen, but Captain Devereux made twenty. But Lord Cunningham ended up with twenty-one and took the pot. That knocked her father out of the game entirely, but every other player survived. It wasn’t ideal, but it was one less chance that Imogen would end up being dragged off by Lord Cunningham at the end of the night.
Captain Devereux’s fortunes were so badly depleted that he ended up out of the game on the very next hand. Imogen was more relieved than she thought she would be. “It’s down to you three, now,” he said, leaning back in his seat with a grin.
“Let’s end this,” Lord Cunningham said, staring at Thaddeus with a wolfish grin. “I want my bride in my bed, where she belongs, before sunrise.”
Thaddeus drew in a long, anxious breath. He must have been thinking what Imogen was thinking, that he didn’t have enough money left to mount a real challenge to Lord Cunningham. She gripped the back of his chair, glancing around for ways they still might be able to escape if and when Lord Cunningham won.
The next hand was dealt, but it didn’t proceed at all the way Imogen expected it to. Lord Cunningham came out with an aggressive bet and Thaddeus matched it. But then Mr. Long shoved all his coins forward without a word.
“Are you sure you want to do that, boy?” Captain Devereux asked, his lips twitching into a grin.
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Long said, staring intently, and somewhat confusedly, at his cards.
Lord Cunningham chuckled and matched the bet. Thaddeus matched it as well.
The final round of cards were dealt, and suddenly, Lord Cunningham’s smug grin turned into a scowl. He muttered something and threw his cards on the table. That left Thaddeus and Mr. Long, and when all bets were matched and the cards turned over, Thaddeus had nineteen and Mr. Long twenty-one.
“Well played, son,” Captain Devereux said, slapping Mr. Long’s shoulder. “Good for you.”
Mr. Long simply smiled, looking relieved. He had reason to look relieved as well. The massive pile of coins was now in front of him. It didn’t take much for Imogen to see that he now held a far greater sum in front of him than any of the others.
“I’m out,” Thaddeus said, his voice haunted.
Imogen blinked and pressed a hand to her stomach. “You’re…out?”
He twisted to look up at her. His face had gone pale and his expression was miserable. “That was it. That was the last of Saif Khan’s money.”
“You lost it?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“Deal the cards, Mergen,” Captain Devereux ordered.
“Wait.” Imogen tried to stop him. “You can’t. There has to be another way. Can Thaddeus bet something else? Could he write a promissory note? Anything?”
“I always allow promissory notes and bets in kind at my table,” Captain Devereux said. “But it’s a bit too late for that.”
“Yes, it’s a bit too late,” Lord Cunningham said, adding a wicked laugh as he picked up the cards that had already been dealt to him.
“No,” Imogen gasped. Thaddeus had gone out and the game was down to Lord Cunningham and Mr. Long. Her world was well and truly about to be tipped upside down.
As soon as the betting began, Lord Cunningham shoved all his money into the center of the table. “Beat that, boy,” he growled at Mr. Long.
“All right,” Mr. Long said. He pushed his entire pile into the table as well.
“Now deal,” Lord Cunningham hissed at Mr. Mergen.
“Hold on there.” Captain Devereux held up his hands. “The boy’s bet a considerably larger sum of money than you. You have to match it.”
“I’ll write a note,” Lord Cunningham growled. “Fetch me some paper.”
Several of the sailors dashed off to do just that, but as they searched, Captain Devereux said, “That note will have to be for something comparable to the lovely Lady Imogen here.”
“What?” Lord Cunningham snapped. “The difference in money cannot be more than a guinea or two.”
“But Lady Imogen is worth more than a guinea or two,” the captain argued. “What else have you got to bet that matches her.”
“I don’t have to bet anything—”
“So you’re saying you can’t match the value of the prize?” Captain Devereux interrupted him.
“I didn’t say—”
“I suppose that means you’re out then,” the captain went on, gesturing for Mergen—who had already started to deal—to take back Lord Cunningham’s cards.
“Wait.” Lord Cunningham slapped a hand over his cards, but didn’t look as though he had a clue what to do next.
A thrill of hope passed through Imogen’s heart. Perhaps the captain was on their side after all. Perhaps the whole game had been orchestrated to have the outcome she and Thaddeus wanted.
Her hopes were dashed when a sailor plunked a piece of paper and a pencil in front of Lord Cunningham and he grumbled, “All right, then. If you insist, I have a small property on Oxford Street. I purchased it as an investment, but it’s done nothing for me. Would that suffice?”
“A property on Oxford Street?” Mr. Long’s eyes lit up. He glanced to Captain Devereux, who shrugged and nodded, then back to Lord Cunningham. “Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.”
Lord Cunningham peeked at his cards, muttered under his breath, and rushed to write out a note, then tossed it in the center of the table with the rest of the coins.
“Are you mad, man?” Imogen’s father asked him.
“The boy’s a novice. He cannot possibly win.” He leaned closer and said. “He doesn’t have my cards.”
“Well then,” Captain Devereux said with a laugh. “This evening turned quite interesting. Deal on, Mergen.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Mr. Mergen said, then dealt the last cards.
It was over in less than five seconds. As soon as Lord Cunningham and Mr. Long picked up their cards, Lord Cunningham turned a putrid shade of green and Mr. Long burst out in a laugh. Both threw their cards on the table—Lord Cunningham in disgust as he revealed an incredibly unlikely twenty-two, and Mr. Long in triumph as he revealed an equally long-shot twenty-one. The game was over. Mr. Long had won.
Imogen’s life and fate were in the hands of a sixteen-year-old boy.
“Lucky Devil indeed,” Captain Devereux laughed as Mr. Long snatched at the promissory note, tucking it away, then stood to scoop up his winnings.
“This is preposterous,” Lord Cunningham boomed, rising and looking as though he would turn the table over. “I refuse to abide by this game. It was obviously fixed.”
“You think a sixteen-year-old boy from an inn fixed a spur-of-the-moment card game?” Thaddeus asked, standing as well.
All of the men were on their feet in a trice. Lord Cunningham attempted to lunge toward Imogen, but the table stood between them, and within seconds, Thaddeus stood between them as well.
“Hand her over at once,” Imogen’s father shouted. “She is my daughter and I will say what becomes of her.”
“You will not touch her,” Thaddeus said. “She is the woman I love.”
Lord Cunningham backed away from the table, only to leap at Thaddeus. Thaddeus
balled his hands into fists, ready to fight. But Captain Devereux jumped between them, holding them apart.
“You agreed to the terms of the game, gentlemen,” he said in a voice full of command. Imogen imagined that his men would follow him off the edge of the world with a voice and presence like that. “You agreed, and now you must abide by the terms.”
“The game was nonsense, a farce,” Imogen’s father railed.
“I will not—” Lord Cunningham started.
“Men, what do we do with cheats who fail to abide by the rules of a game they agreed to play?” Captain Devereux asked.
That was all it took. With a victorious shout, half a dozen of the burly sailors rushed forward. They grabbed Lord Cunningham and Imogen’s father and hoisted them into the air.
“Put me down, you cur!”
“Unhand me!”
Their cries went unheeded as the sailors carried them to the edge of the ship. Imogen and Thaddeus followed, Captain Devereux by their side.
“By your leave, captain?” one of the sailors asked.
“Carry on,” Captain Devereux said with a wave of his hand.
Another cry rose from the men, and without any further ado, they tossed Lord Cunningham and Imogen’s father over the side of the ship and into the Thames. Twin splashes told Imogen they were well and truly gone. She wasn’t sure she even cared if they drowned or if they managed to swim to the nearest dock and crawl ashore.
She turned to Thaddeus. “They’re gone,” she said, breathless and brimming with hope that seemed as though it might actually take hold for a change.
“They are,” Thaddeus said, reaching for her. “And now we can be together.”
“Hold on there.” Captain Devereux stepped between them prying them apart with a delighted grin. “You can’t go handling Mr. Long’s property like that. Mr. Long?” he called over his shoulder to the table.
Mr. Long was still shoving coins into the sack he’d brought with him, his pockets, his hat, and anything that would hold them. He glanced up with a curious look when his name was called.
“Mr. Long,” Captain Devereux said, touching Imogen’s arm lightly and escorting her back to the table, Thaddeus behind them. “This man would like to make off with your property.”
“Hmm?” Mr. Long blinked. His young face was pink with delight and his blue eyes glittered. “Oh. Her. It’s all right, you can have her,” he told Thaddeus. “She’s a bit too la-dee-da for me anyhow.”
Imogen laughed in spite of herself. “Thank you, Mr. Long.” She broke away from Captain Devereux and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Don’t make him second-guess his generosity,” Thaddeus said with a laugh of his own. He stepped forward to shake Mr. Long’s hand. “I am eternally grateful, Mr. Long, and whatever help I can give you in the future is yours.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Mr. Long pumped his hand vigorously. “A property on Oxford Street. Can you imagine? And here I am, a boy from Limehouse, barely out of short pants.”
“What are you going to do with the property?” Imogen asked.
Mr. Long tilted his head to the side for a moment, then said, “I think I’ll make it a pub.”
“Good for you, lad.” Captain Devereux stepped forward to shake his hand as well. When he had the young man in a tight grip, he asked, “You counted the cards, didn’t you?”
“Every last one of them, sir,” Mr. Long confessed.
Imogen blew out a breath and laughed all over again. So young Daniel Long had been playing them all the entire time. He had far more experience with cards than he’d let on, that much was certain. Which meant that her father and Lord Cunningham hadn’t stood a chance from the start. Neither had Thaddeus, for that matter, but at least the young man wasn’t the sort to part lovers.
“Oh, and I guess this can be a wedding present,” Mr. Long said, handing one of the sacks of coins he’d filled to Thaddeus. “Get you off on the right start and all,” he added.
“You don’t have to,” Thaddeus said, taking the sack all the same.
“I want to,” Mr. Long said. He then touched his free hand to his forehead and started toward the gangplank. “Cheers. I must get this lot taken care of before the real thieves and cutpurses come out for the night.”
As soon as he was gone, Thaddeus let out a breath of relief and turned to hold his arms out to Imogen. She rushed into them, hugging him for all she was worth and kissing him for good measure. Behind him, Captain Devereux gave the orders for his crew to lift anchor and set out.
“At last,” Imogen said, sliding her arms around Thaddeus’s neck and smiling at him, her heart filled with joy. “At last, those evil men are behind us and we can start our life together.”
“And a beautiful life it will be,” Thaddeus finished, sealing his words with a kiss.
Epilogue
Scotland in January was chilly, bleak, and more than a little damp, but Imogen had never been happier. Even though the tiny cottage she and Thaddeus had rented by the sea came with a few extra tenants that they hadn’t expected.
“Catch him, catch him,” Imogen laughed and squealed as Thaddeus charged through the small front room with a broom, attempting to whisk the starling that had built a nest in the rafters out one of the windows.
“I’m trying to,” Thaddeus laughed along with her. “The blighter keeps giving me the slip.”
The terrified bird twittered and swooped, darting every which way in the small room except toward the window. Imogen shrieked with giggles as it dove toward her hair, which she’d left undone, in spite of the scandal of wearing it that way during the day.
Thaddeus chased the bird closer to the window only to trip over the edge of the faded, braided rug in the center of the room. With a surprised whoop, he tumbled forward, landing, sprawled, on the threadbare sofa that faced the fireplace. Imogen laughed so hard she had to grip her sides as the starling flew back to its lofty nest. She collapsed onto the sofa with Thaddeus, letting out a long, happy sigh.
“I think we will have to live with him,” she said, still giggling.
Thaddeus righted himself. He tossed the broom aside, then slipped his arm around Imogen’s shoulders. “I think you’re right there. But I cannot be responsible for the things he might see.”
He leaned toward her, closing his mouth over hers and a hand over her breast. Imogen’s giggles turned into a deep sigh as she surged into his embrace. In the months that had passed since they’d escaped from London and made a new life for themselves in Scotland as man and wife, she’d grown bold when it came to expressing her desire for him. She slid her tongue against his, reaching for the front of his breeches. When she found him already half hard and growing fast, she hummed deep in her throat.
“I don’t care one bit that we don’t have a penny to our name,” she moaned, caressing and encouraging him. “This is worth far more than money.”
“We have some money,” he reminded her, though money seemed to be the least of his concerns.
He tipped her back against the arm of the sofa and sought out her legs under the hem of her skirt. With a quick movement and sin sparkling in his eyes, he lifted one of her legs up over the back of the chair, then proceeded to disappear beneath her skirts.
Imogen tilted her head back and let out a pleasure sigh as his mouth made contact with her sex. He’d pleasured her a hundred times and more since their marriage, but she never grew tired of the heady sensation of arousal. Her body was instantly alive with arousal, and she let out another cry.
At least, until there was a knock at the door. “Mrs. Herrington? Oh, Mrs. Herrington. I was just down at the post office and as there was a letter for you, I thought I would just take it with me and—oh!” Their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Tucker, gasped as she let herself into the cottage and found Imogen spread out in a position of decadence. “Oh, my! Oh, I never….”
Thaddeus darted out from under Imogen’s skirts, face red and lips shining with moisture. He quickly rubbed them with the sleeve o
f his shirt and stood as Imogen yelped and threw herself off the sofa. She landed on her knees—which were already a bit sore from other wicked activities she and Thaddeus had engaged in earlier in the day—before snapping straight and standing as best she could.
“You have a letter for me, Mrs. Tucker?” she asked in a squeaky voice.
“I do.” Mrs. Tucker handed the letter over in a hurry, red as a beet and stammering in her attempt to form another sentence. “Oh, my. Oh, dear. I didn’t intend to interrupt you newlyweds. I was young once myself and…oh dear!”
The poor old woman dashed for the door, running out of the house. Of all things, the starling swooped down and flew after her through the open door.
Once they were both gone, Thaddeus broke into laughter as he crossed to shut—and lock—the door, and Imogen glanced at the letter.
“It’s from Alice,” she gasped, brimming with excitement. “And it’s been posted from Aegiria.”
“Aegiria?” Thaddeus asked. “Isn’t that the tiny Scandinavian island where Count Fabian Camoni is from?”
“It is.” Imogen’s heart filled with worry as she tore open the envelope. “That can only mean that Father has married Alice off to the man after all.”
“I always liked Count Camoni,” Thaddeus said with a slight frown as he came to read over Imogen’s shoulder.
“Dear Imogen and Thaddeus,” Imogen read aloud. “As I am certain you will know by the Aegirian post mark on this letter, I have married Count Camoni after all, as Father wished.” Imogen glanced to Thaddeus. “Oh, dear. I hope she’s not too disappointed.”
Thaddeus’s brow went up as he read the rest of the letter. “Read on. It’s not as bad as you think.”
Imogen turned back to the letter. “As it turns out, Fabian is not quite the villain I thought he was. Though it took me long enough to come to that conclusion. Our Christmas wedding was both a trial, thanks to Father, and a revelation. But it almost didn’t take place. I….”
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