Page 63 of To Ensnare a Duke

I look over at Portswell, my shoulders slumping a touch. "I-"

"She has. Just give her a moment to fetch them. They are special to her, and she's asked me to tuck them away for safekeeping when they're not in use."

The others in the room seem to believe this farce, allowing me to breathe a bit easier. It won't do any good to have them think I was punished already and not yet a wife. When he leaves the room, the others mill about, mostly talking to each other, but the women start to crowd in on me.

"Do you think it unseemly for us to descend on you en masse like this," Madam Blackport murmurs, her gaze refusing to meet mine. Out of the four women present, she seems to be the most ill at ease around the group.

"Stuff and nonsense," Madam Foxford cries, again, linking arms with me. "It is a boon to become allies with the wives of your husband's friends. It just makes sense. Besides, I'm sure a bride-to-be has much to talk about before the wedding. You know, last-minute jitters and such."

"I see," she murmurs, dropping her head. "It is to be that sort of conversation."

"What sort-"

"I have them, my darling," Portswell cuts in, handing me the deck. As I go to reach for them, he yanks them back. "Remember, when tonight is over, I shall once more keep them safe. Please deliver them to your aunt to hold for me."

The smug look on his face drives me to distraction. How I long to fight back, to tell him exactly where he can shove my deck of cards. I just don't wish to be perceived as a harridan amongst the others. Not until I know for sure they're more like me and less like the stuffy nobility I'm used to interacting with.

"Be assured, Your Grace," Madam Foxford giggles, dipping down into a low curtsy. "The cards will be returned anon. We only wish to play a bit while you do whatever it is men do in the dark."

"Teresa," Foxford growls, the sound akin to a warning.

She turns and flashes him a smile. "And here I thought you mellowed a bit after our nuptials. I see you're just as gruff as ever. Whatever will our new arrival think of you?"

Portswell steps in, an odd expression on his face. "Trust me, Madam, Miss Hunt is very much aware of what type of man she is soon to wed. She is well accustomed to Alphas such as your husband."

"Oh…" She looks over at me, her eyes widening even more. "Oh, I see. Your clarity is much appreciated, Sir. I shall endeavor to keep our celebrations chaste and circumspect."

"See that you do. I would so hate to have tomorrow's joy impeded by unnecessary ailments."

My face burns hot as the women look over at me, their expressions morphing into ones of glee. How can they be so excited when my fiancé has just told them all he punishes me? The only consolation I have is that the others don't seem all that concerned by his veiled communications.

Does this mean we are all alike in our afflictions? Curiouser things have happened. Taking the deck of cards, I hold them close to my chest, happiness welling up at having them in my possession once more.

"Remember. After tonight, they go back into safe keeping. I do not wish for anything to happen to them."

Aunt Amelia beams at him as if he's some grand savior. "That is so very kind of you, Your Grace. They shall be in my possession come tomorrow. They certainly are a precious heirloom." Tears dot her eyes as she runs her fingers over the deck.

In all my need to explore my freedom, I never once thought of what they meant to her. They were, after all, her younger brother's before he became my father. It isn't right of me to be so frivolous with them. No matter what happens tonight, they will be safe with my aunt come morning.

Perhaps my new friends can help me procure a deck of my own without my watchdog knowing. It's far too soon to tell if they'll be on my side in this matter. Knowing they have a penchant for punishment as I do, means they are no stranger to bending the rules on occasion.

"My dear husband," Madam Birchleigh calls out as the men head to the door.

"Yes, dear wife?" he grins, his eyes sparkling with some unknown mischief.

"What shall be our limit? If Miss Hunt is as skilled as His Grace says, I must be prepared to lose."

The men groan in a collective unit as Portswell turns to them with a large smile. "What say you, gentleman? A thousand pounds?"

The look they give him would be comical if I were not already so anxious about the evening. Clearing my throat, I curtsy to them. “‘Twould be unseemly to have you part with your coin when we are so newly acquainted. I propose playing with no stakes?"

Again, Portswell smiles and shakes his head. "Their honor would not hear of it."

"But a thousand pounds," I whisper, my head pounding at the very thought.

"Yes. I've seen your skill and have no doubt you will be victorious."

"So specific a sum, don't you say, Portswell," Blackport pipes up, crossing his arms.