Page 1 of The Lyon’s Last Gamble (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #80)

London, 1815

T his would be the one. Lord Christopher Campbell could feel it. He was so close .

The big win hadn’t happened yet, but he was still hopeful. He tapped the table in front of him, letting the dealer know he wanted a hit. Christopher closed his eyes as he picked up the card, trying to manifest the card he needed. A four would give him a perfect score and guaranteed win. Something lower and he could stay in and play on.

With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at the card.

Five.

Fuck.

Christopher had lost count of how many weeks had passed since he’d arrived in London, other than it had been several. He’d spent the time bouncing from gambling den to gambling den. Unfortunately for him, his luck wasn’t any better here than it was back home in Scotland.

He was hoping to win big and return home to Millwool Castle and pay back his brother, Alexander, the Duke of Argyll. It was the very least he could do for all the trouble he’d caused. The coin he’d cost his brother was high, but the stress he’d forced upon Alexander was even worse. It was the last thing his brother should have had to deal with when he’d returned from the war.

Putting Christopher in charge of the Campbell estates was a decision they had both regretted. He was too busy laying down bets and playing cards to put much thought into the impact of what his subpar gambling talent was doing to the family coffers.

He was trying to rectify that.

He threw the cards down and pushed away from the table. He needed another drink. The bartender poured him a scotch and with a nod of thanks, Christopher knocked back the liquid in one long pull before slamming the glass on the bar. He paid his tab and exited the establishment.

His wallet was growing thinner by the day.

The only reason he was even able to stay in London was because the Campbell’s owned an estate here. Colthrop Hall had offered a great escape. And apparently his brother kenned it was where Christopher would run to. Alexander had sent messages to the staff here, ensuring he was taken care of. He also generously sent a monthly allowance. The gesture meant a lot since his brother had to be aware of what he would spend it on.

Along with his allowance, Alexander also gifted him the title of Lord.

Christopher was certain he’d done so because his brother thought it would make things a little easier for him. That Alexander would do such grand things for him, after his actions of the past, said a lot about Alexander and the type of man he was.

All of it was just a reminder of how much of a failure Christopher was.

One day, mayhap one day, he could live up to his brother’s expectations and the Campbell name.

“Hello, handsome.” A small hand caught his arm as he walked out the door. Lottie, a local wench, smiled. “You look like you could use some cheering up. Bad day at the tables?” Slender fingers walked up his bicep, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I can make you forget your losses.”

Christopher had spent several nights with her since he’d arrived. She’d provided a much welcome solace when he needed it and normally, he’d take her up on the offer, but not today. His mind was too heavy with defeat.

He shrugged her hand off, lifting the collar of his jacket to ward against the cool autumn air and remained silent.

She jutted her bottom lip out in a pout.

It didn’t sway his decision.

Not to worry, there were plenty of men inside that would take her up on her proposition.

Stepping down from the porch, he headed toward Colthrop Hall.

“I’ll be here if you change your mind,” she called after him sultrily.

He signaled for a driver and by the time he arrived home, the gray skies had opened up and cold rain fell in fat drops, splattering on the ground, turning the path to the door into mud. Gideon, his butler, greeted him in the foyer and collected his coat as soon as he slipped it off his shoulders.

“You’ve returned early this eve, my lord.”

“Aye. I’ve lost my appetite for the tables tonight it seems. I just want a hot bath and to retire early.”

Gideon dipped his head. “Of course. I will have water brought up and a light meal prepared and delivered.” He scurried off, snapping his fingers at servants, delegating orders.

Upstairs, Christopher tugged on his cravat as he walked down the hall to his room that overlooked the garden. As he gazed over the dying flowers below, he couldn’t ignore the scene filling his vision. In the spring, when all the flowers bloomed, the garden was a gorgeous sight. Right now, the garden looked like the status of his life situation—in need of revitalization.

He needed to get his shite in order. The gambling he did day in and day out was obviously not the answer to his problems. The irony wasn’t lost on him in thinking he could solve his gambling problem by gambling.

“Ye’re a fool, Campbell.” He mumbled.

“My Lord?” A servant called from the door, her arms carrying a tray that contained food and a pot of tea.

He shook his head. “’Tis naught. Please,” he stepped forward and gestured to the table. “Thank ye.”

The servant bowed. “Your tub is being filled now and will be available shortly.”

He snagged a piece of cheese and a slice of hard-crusted bread off the plate and nodded. “I thank ye again.”

A good soak was what he needed.

A good meal.

A new mindset.

Tomorrow was a new day and he vowed that he would approach it with a new temperament.