Page 8 of The Lyon’s Last Gamble (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #80)

W hitney watched the game play out down below, nearly biting her nails to the quick, hoping that the mystery stranger would win. She ignored the other women that were in the room also watching the various tables. Some looked just as harried as she was.

Her nerves were on edge every time the handsome man stepped up to the stack of boxes. Each time she willed him to pull the key, then felt her heart sink when he pulled some sort of challenge instead. Each one he met without issue, she noted proudly.

But each time the other man stepped up to the boxes, a cold sweat broke out on her brow. She vacillated between wringing her hands and biting her nails. Shooing away her mother’s hands when she tried to stop the actions.

“Whitney, dearest. Please cease. Your new husband will not want to see the nubs of your fingers.”

“Mama,” she said exasperated. “This is very nerve-wracking. I don’t know how you can just stand there so calmly and watch how my future is decided by this game.”

Her mother smiled. “It will all work out in the end. You need to trust the process.”

“That’s easy for you to say since it is not your life hanging in the balance,” Whitney grumbled, eyes transfixed as both men stepped up to the boxes for the last round.

Her heart was stuck in her throat, making it hard to swallow as she held her breath. This would determine which man would be her husband.

The person she’d be spending the rest of her life with. Was she ready for this? To live the rest of her days with a stranger?

She inhaled a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. She didn’t know. But since her parents had made the decision for her, she didn’t have a choice.

Her mother clasped her hand and pulled her close. “It’s time.”

This time, Whitney let her mother hold her as they watched the final game play out.

The raven-haired stranger clenched and unclenched his fist, making the muscles in his forearm contract. The other man, who also had his sleeves rolled up, just glared at his opponent.

They exchanged words, but from this distance Whitney couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Are you ready?” Her mother asked excitedly.

She wasn’t.

“Mama, I swear if I didn’t know better, I would think it was you that was gaining a husband,” Whitney said dryly.

Her mother squeezed her shoulders in a hug. “This is an exciting time, dearest. It will not take long for you to see it as such as well.

With a roll of her eyes, Whitney focused on the game below once again. The dealer was counting.

“One. Two. Three!”

The men reached into the boxes and two very different reactions filled the air below.

Whitney blew out a sigh of relief as the handsome stranger belted out a whoop of triumph and held up the shiny key in his fist. Her relief was so strong, she had to fight not to drop to her knees on the floor.

The other man hollered in pain and she could see he held a handful of stinging nettles in his palm. She grimaced, imagining how painful that must be, but she quickly set her attention on the man that would be her husband.

A huge smile spread across her face.

“See? I told you it will all work out,” her mother said conspiratorially.

She raised an eyebrow toward her mother. “Mama, how you could you have possibly known when everything was left up to chance?”

Her mother didn’t answer, only shrugged her shoulders with a smug look on her face. “We should leave now that the game is done. We’ve seen all we can for this night. You will be meeting your husband-to-be soon enough.”

“Do I not get to meet him now?” She asked, confused. Unaware of how gambling hells worked, she was surprised that they would not be introduced here and now.

“Heaven’s no. You cannot possibly want to meet him in a gambling hell. He will call on you at home. Tonight is doubtful, but tomorrow at the latest.”

“How do you know all these things, mama?” She had a strong feeling her mother was far more involved in this game than she was letting on.

“Come on.” Tugging on her arm, her mother pulled her toward the door. “Your father is waiting for us at home. I am certain he is anxious at the outcome.”

With one last look over her shoulder, Whitney followed her mother out of the room and they made their way out of the Lyon’s Den and onto the street outside.

“Do you know his name?” Surely her mother had to know the man’s name at the very least. After all, she had said she hand-picked the two men herself.

She shook her head. “I do not. I saw portraits of each prospect and was provided generic details of each to aid me in making my decision to whittle it down to two men, but I wasn’t given specifics.”

Whitney was baffled at that information. “How could you possibly make a decision without specifics? What if he’s a criminal?”

“Do not be silly, dearest. He is from a good family. And he is not a criminal. Does he have his faults? Yes. But so do you.”

Whitney opened her mouth to counter, but her mother held up a hand.

“That’s not a bad thing. We all have our faults. They are what make us unique.”

“Has he brought shame upon his family’s name as I have?” Whitney muttered.

They climbed into their waiting carriage and once it rocked forward, bringing them home, her mother finally answered.

“His faults are something that he needs to discuss with you. Just as you’ll need to discuss yours with him. It is not a bad thing. Strong communication in the beginning will build a sturdy foundation for a mighty marriage moving forward.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any further answers from her mother, she stared out the small window, watching the houses, lit by lanterns, pass by.

And yet, even with all that had transpired this night, she couldn’t ignore the flip of her stomach when she thought of the man. The warmth that spread over her skin. The blush of her cheeks.

Maybe this would be exactly what she needed. Her mother was right, her options and prospects were almost none. Now she had a future husband. That he was pleasing to the eye was a bonus that wasn’t guaranteed.

Something that if someone had told her last week that would come to fruition, she would have laughed and told them how they teased her so.

Now she only had to hope that his handsomeness wasn’t the only fetching quality he held.