How Not To Marry An Earl. Christine Merrill

      ‘Really?’ The secret to her character revealed itself, before he could even suggest the wager. Flattery might get him nowhere. But if he dared to condescend to her, she would not just hand him the keys to the kingdom, she would throw them with all her might.

      ‘Really,’ she said, her smile replaced by a determined nod.

      ‘Fair enough,’ he said and let the lamb lead him to the slaughterhouse.

      * * *

      The last time Charity had played chess, it had been with Mr Drake, who had been waiting for the opportunity to sneak into Hope’s room. He had been so distracted by the thought of her sister it had taken considerable effort on her part to make him feel that he had a chance to win. There was no fun in blunting her play and throwing games to weaker players. But she had not had the heart to punish that poor man when he was already having a difficult time winning Hope.

      Tonight would be different. The exceptionally arrogant Mr Potts deserved no mercy. She would take his three pieces. And then she would take the rest, as quickly and painfully as possible.

      She set up the game and glanced at his side for only a moment before removing his queen and both bishops from the board.

      ‘Ho-ho,’ he said, clapping his hands in approval. ‘You mean to make me work for my reward. Very well, then. Let’s begin.’

      She had underestimated him. After so many years of people doing the same to her, she should have known better. Potts was a cautious player, but relentless, taking her pieces one by one and dodging the traps she set for him, even without the help of his stronger pieces. When she managed to claim a piece, it usually came with the sacrifice of one of her own. And, indignity of indignities, when he took her king, it was done with a clever arrangement of pawns.

      She stared at the table in amazement. ‘I have never played a game like that before.’

      ‘Then you have led an exceptionally sheltered life, Miss Strickland.’

      While that was quite true, it had nothing to do with her abilities at the chessboard. Nor had it anything to do with the quality of his play, which had been masterful.

      Now he was staring at her expectantly. And for the first time in her life, she felt in awe of a man and at a loss for words.

      ‘Well?’ he said, with an encouraging tip of his head. When she did not respond, he added, ‘Have you forgotten our bet?’

      She found her tongue again, clearing her throat and saying gruffly, ‘It can hardly be called a bet. You offered me no reward, if you lost.’

      ‘Since I did not lose, that is immaterial.’ He gave her a pitying smile. ‘Perhaps it would have been kinder of me if I had been more specific when you asked what I did, while in America.’ He cocked his head to the side, as if reliving the conversation in his mind. ‘I told you a bit of this and a bit of that. But when I was between this and that, and low on funds, I played chess for money.’

      And she had fallen right into his hands.

      ‘Before we played, you promised that I could aid you with the puzzle box. May I see it, please?’ He was still smiling. Still maddeningly polite.

      ‘Of course,’ she said, rising and leading him from the room.