Call Down the Moon by Katherine Kingsley

away with his pockets fuller than before. After all, he’d given up the habit, hadn’t he? He’d only set out to have a bit of fun.
    “Are you sure?” Arthur Waldock cast him a look of grave concern. “I have taken enough off you tonight, Hugo. Let it rest.”
    “Let it rest?” Foxlane interjected. “Have you ever known Hugo Montagu to back down when he is in a tight spot? Good Lord, man, I once saw him win fifty thousand on a single hand of vingt-et-un when he was in just this position. He has the luck of the devil when it comes to turning a bad situation around. Do not deny him his chance to take it all back from you and then some.”
    He rubbed his chin and gave Hugo a look of encouragement, his eyes flashing with excitement as if he already smelled blood. Michael Foxlane thrived on living on the edge, and he had never much cared who fell off as long as it wasn’t himself.
    Hugo should have remembered that before he’d allowed himself to be lured away, but it was too late now. He attempted a cocky smile in return. “Are you afraid to lose what you have gained, Waldock?” he said, trying to sound unconcerned.
    “But what have you left to put up?” Waldock said, frowning. “I have enough of your markers here with which to sink a battleship and you along with it, Hugo. Why don’t you go home and sleep this night’s work off? You can have another try at your luck tomorrow.”
    As far as Hugo was concerned there would be no tomorrow, not if he didn’t recoup his disastrous losses. He really would rather shoot himself than face the inevitable scorn of his family and prove them right about his weakness of character.
    He took a deep breath. “Lyden Hall,” he said his heart pounding. “I’ll put up Lyden, worth sixty thousand pounds. It is free and clear, and I’ll risk it on one hand of vingt-et-un, winner take all. The game has brought me luck before—perhaps it will again.”
    Waldock shook his head, then shrugged. “Very well. Have it your way. I have nothing to lose that I didn’t have before walking in here tonight.”
    Foxlane nodded, his teeth drawn back from his lips in an almost feral expression. His forehead too was covered in a fine film of perspiration. “You’ve always had the golden touch when you put your mind to it, Montagu. Let’s see what you can do. With luck you can bid farewell to my cousin once and for all.”
    “It was never about Amelia Langford,” Hugo said, running his hands over his eyes for a brief moment. If the cards came up wrong, it might be all about Amelia Langford after all, and in a way he’d never even considered.
    “We’ll use a fresh pack for luck,” Foxlane said, snapping his fingers at one of the passing footmen. He cut the cards and dealt.
    Hugo received a ten of spades down and a five of clubs showing. His heart sank—Waldock’s showing card was an ace of diamonds. The odds were heavily against Hugo, but he had no choice. He nodded, and Foxlane dealt him another card, the four of hearts, bringing Hugo to nineteen.
    Hugo took a long drink of brandy. He forced himself to focus. Gritting his teeth, he tried to suppress a surge of nausea as Waldock nodded at Foxlane.
    Foxlane dealt. A six of spades. That gave Waldock either seven or eighteen, depending on how he counted the ace.
    Everything now hinged on what Waldock’s hidden card was.
    Waldock met Hugo’s eyes for one brief moment before turning it over. The four of clubs.
    “Twenty-one,” Foxlane said, in a voice of suppressed excitement. “Montagu?”
    Hugo shook his head and flipped over the ten of spades.
    “Nineteen. Bad luck, Montagu. Congratulations, Waldock.”
    Hugo released a long hiss from between his teeth as bile rose in his throat and his world spun in a long downward spiral into blackness.
    His last thought before he passed out was that he was ruined.
    Again.
    Hugo hazily opened his eyes and winced against the immediate stab of pain behind his forehead. His mouth tasted like the