Westfall let out a booming laugh, pretending the Frenchman had made a polite joke. "Quite right, Marquis. Quite right." He looked at Arthur. "Play your card, Ashbourne. The pot is substantial."
A pile of gold sovereigns and thick paper notes sat in the center of the table—nearly a thousand pounds.
Arthur held a strong hand; Clara could see the corners of the face cards from her angle. If he played, he would likely win the money. But if he won, Westfall would use the camaraderie of the game to bind him into a gentleman's agreement regarding the shipping lanes—an agreement Westfall had already sabotaged.
Clara stepped forward. The heavy silk of her skirts rustled slightly. She lowered the tray, picking up a decanter of dark port with her right hand. She moved to Arthur's right side. Villette watched her with idle indifference; to him, she was a piece of furniture, slightly more useful than a footstool.
Clara poured the port into Arthur's glass. The dark red liquid rose steadily. She didn't stop. She poured until the wine sat precariously at the very edge of the crystal rim, shimmering under the gaslight.
A warning: They are insulting your intelligence.
Then, she stepped back. As she did, she let the cuff of her stiff white sleeve brush against the heavy mahogany back of Arthur's chair. She let her fingers press against the wood—a solid, deliberate pressure that lasted exactly two seconds.
A trap: Fold your hand immediately.
Arthur did not flinch. He did not look at her. He stared down at his cards for a long, agonizing moment. The cigar smoke swirled thickly around his head. Westfall leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with greed, eager for the Duke to commit to the pot.
Slowly, deliberately, Arthur placed his cards face down on the green baize.
"I fold," Arthur said.
The silence that hit the table was absolute. Westfall's triumphant smile shattered. Villette blinked, his elegant composure slipping for a fraction of a second.
"You fold?" Westfall demanded, his voice pitching up. "Ashbourne, there is a thousand pounds on the table. You have been raising for twenty minutes!"
"I find the stakes suddenly unappealing," Arthur replied smoothly.