“Accept your fate with good grace,” another shouted.
Matthew pushed out of the chair. Wearing a smug grin, he said, “I shall expect both mine and Lord Callan’s vowels returned as a matter of urgency. There can be no doubt as to the winners of this game.”
A rapturous applause rang out. One gentleman after another approached the table to offer their congratulations.
“Damn good game, Chandler.”
“We knew you had him after the first few hands.”
Matthew placed his hand on his chest. “I cannot take all the credit.”
“Like all the best fillies, your wife pipped him to the post,” Lord Parson said.
“Indeed.” Matthew glanced at her. The look of admiration in his eyes stole her breath. “In this house, it is the queen who reigns supreme.”
Chapter 20
The overwhelming sense of satisfaction flowing through Matthew’s veins had sated his hunger for revenge. Boden would do one of two things. Had he any sense, he would shrink back into the shadows, go about his business never to darken Matthew’s door again. Equally, he could rant and rave about the unfairness of it all, swear they’d cheated and a host of other annoying things just to cause trouble.
Perhaps he should have thrown Boden and Parker-Brown out onto the street. Then again, looking at the lord’s solemn face for the rest of the evening would bring immense pleasure. Plenty of other gentlemen would find amusement in the sombre sight too.
One thing was certain. Swigging the last of the brandy had dulled the lord’s aggressive nature. Abandoned by Parker-Brown, Boden still sat at the card table, drowning his sorrows.
Upon entering the ballroom with Priscilla on his arm, Matthew noted the opening strains of a waltz. “Shall we dance, Priscilla? Shall we show these people how perfect we are together.”
She glanced at him, a smile illuminating her whole face. “Dancing with you would be a fitting end to a wonderful night.”
They found a space on the floor, and he pulled her into an embrace. “I can promise you one thing. This dance will not signify the end of the evening. Hours of pleasure still await us.”
A faint blush touched her cheeks. Despite sharing many passionate exchanges, there was still an element of innocence about her countenance he found endearing.
“We have much to celebrate,” she said as they locked fingers. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when I played the queen.”
The mere mention of it caused another rush of excitement, a feeling intensified by the feel of his wife’s body as he twirled her around the room. “Did you see Boden’s face? The man came here intending to bleed me dry. What I want to know is what happened to the decanter of port?”
“Well,” she began with a coy grin, “I noticed him enter the parlour. Just from his shifty manner, I knew he was up to mischief. And after what you said about him drugging the port at Lord Holbrook’s soiree, I suspected he’d planned a similar trick.”
“And so what did you do?”
“I told John to throw the port away, to replace the decanter with the one from the drawing room.”
“For a man adept at observing signals, I’m surprised Boden didn’t notice the difference between a square and a tulip decanter.”
“He was in and out of the parlour so quickly I doubt he gave the shape of the vessel much thought. Besides, he was more interested in the brandy.”
Matthew chuckled. While Boden had mocked him for his inability to hold liquor, the pompous oaf had downed three-quarters of the decanter. “Brandy proved to be his downfall. After the second glass, he was struggling to focus. And he had the temerity to taunt me.”
A sly smile formed on her lips. “Well, it might not have been the brandy that clouded his thoughts.”
With his curiosity piqued, he pulled her closer and lowered his head so his mouth was but an inch from her ear. “Have you been naughty, Priscilla?”
“A little, though it was Anne who supplied the laudanum.”
“You drugged him?”
“I knew he wouldn’t drink the port.”
Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “Heavens, where would I be without you?”