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“Thank you, but no. Not tonight,” he replied, with an elegant bow. “Tonight, I think I’ll dance.”
He turned to leave, but the men weren’t ready to let him go.
“Only one game of faro, Vallière. Just for sport. No heavy wagers. A friendly round, no stakes at all; just for the thrill,” said a man with a burgundy coat, grinning at Jules. “Surely, after all that time locked away, you could use a little excitement? Or have you forgotten how to play?”
The other two men chuckled, prodding him further. They seemed to be dandies, like Jules, exquisitely dressed in padded coats and tight breeches, in the newest fashion.
“Far from it,” Jules replied lightly, though Anna could hear the strain in his voice. “But I’ve no desire to end up in the hands of the duns again.”
“One hand won’t hurt,” another gentleman, with the highest toupee Anna had ever seen, chimed in, grinning. “We’re not playing for fortunes, just passing the time. Besides, it’s been a damned dull evening. Come, stretch your legs. Join us.”
Jules hesitated again, the tug of temptation clear.
“Very well,” he said at last, his voice resigned. “But only one hand.”
The men cheered, making room for him at the table, and as Jules took his seat, Anna suppressed a groan.
So much for change.
* * *
She watched her brother with growing apprehension as he played with the three gentlemen. Though she knew little about faro, it seemed, for the moment, that Jules wasn’t losing heavily. But whether his luck would hold was another question entirely.
It was late, and Anna silently willed them to wrap up the game. The gentleman in the burgundy coat tossed his cards down with a smirk.
“You’ve got the devil’s luck tonight, Vallière. Another round?”
“I really shouldn’t,” Jules said, though he made no move to rise from his seat.
Anna’s stomach clenched. He needed to stop. If he kept playing, she knew his luck would turn; it always did. Jules never had the resolve to walk away. Why didn’t he just collect his tokens and leave?
“Of course he’ll play another round,” the man with the toupee chimed in, grinning. “Be a good sport. You wouldn’t quit while you’re ahead, would you?”
Jules hesitated again. The burgundy-coated man had already begun shuffling the cards.
Anna’s pulse quickened. If Jules wouldn’t act, then she had to. She picked up a wineglass and approached the table, her brother’s back turned to her. She took a deep breath and, feigning a clumsy misstep, spilled the wine all over him. The red liquid splashed across his waistcoat and onto the table, staining the cards and scattering counters.
Jules shot to his feet, startled. “Sacrebleu! What—what is this?” His outburst was cut short when his eyes locked onto hers.
His expression shifted from surprise to shock, his mouth falling open as he recognised her.
“The devil, boy, what’s this mess?” the toupeed gentleman barked, throwing his cards down in frustration. “The cards are ruined!”
“I’m so terribly sorry. It was an accident,” Anna murmured, dabbing at Jules with a napkin, her voice low. “Sors d’ici,” she hissed.
“But—” Jules stammered, wide-eyed, still too shocked to act.
“You need to change your coat,” Anna urged, trying to push him towards the door.
Before she could move him, the man with the toupee grabbed Jules by the arm. “Hold on a moment. We’re not done playing.”
The burgundy-coated gentleman nodded, his gaze narrowing. “That’s right. That was the strangest winning streak I’ve ever seen. One more round, Vallière, and then you can change your coat.”
Without waiting for a reply, the three men moved to another table, dragging Jules with them, a fresh pack of cards already in hand.
Jules threw her a helpless look but then shrugged his shoulders.
Anna stood there, helpless, watching her plan crumble. The ruse hadn’t worked.
