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read her features, he still couldn’t do so. Her clear blue eyes were as calm as a winter lake and her pretty, unlined face betrayed nothing.
    He was fascinated. Tempted to give up on cards altogether in favor of unraveling the far more intriguing mystery beneath the oversized bonnet.
    But winning big was his only chance of repaying his debts.
    Anthony took the next round, and the round after that. Leviston took the third, only for Anthony to win it back double the following hand with an ace on his first deal.
    By the fifth round, Leviston’s grip on his cards was white-knuckled and he trembled with obvious anxiety.
    Miss Devon murmured, “Breathe in through your nose…and out through your mouth. It is but one hand of cards amongst many. A moment in time. Feel your fingers relaxing. If you wish to stop, you may do so. It is only a game.”
    To Anthony’s amazement, Leviston visibly relaxed as he listened to her soft, coaxing words. His knuckles returned to their normal color and his hands ceased trembling.
    “You’re right,” Leviston said with a rueful smile. “How easily we forget that the turn of a card is meaningless overall.”
    Meaningless? Anthony would have laughed if so much wasn’t riding on his continued lucky streak. For him, the turn of the cards meant the difference between eating or not. Between having a roof to sleep under or not. Between being able to look his loved ones in the eyes or consigning them to poverty.
    Thank God, up ’til now, Lady Fortune had only worked her calming magic on Anthony, or he would not have won a penny. The sight of white knuckles and trembling fingers was his cue to wager big.
    Then again, Fate alone dealt the hands. All the subtle cues in the world were useless without the capacity to win.
    He glanced down at his final card. Indescribable joy spread through him. He should never have doubted Lady Fortune. Miss Devon could calm Leviston with as many reassuring words as she wished, because Anthony’s hand was unstoppable. A rush of excitement surged through him. These were truly the best cards he’d ever been dealt in his life. The best cards anyone had ever been dealt. All three of his cards had been the three highest trumps.
    Leviston was about to go home in tears.
    “All in.” Anthony dropped the entire contents of his purse next to his twenty pounds. “Forty per player if you stay in.”
    “Curse you, Fairfax.” Color drained from Leviston’s face, but he kept a stiff upper lip and ponied up his blunt. “This is my last hand.”
    Her porcelain face as smooth as a doll’s, Miss Devon placed her purse alongside her bet.
    A twinge twisted Anthony’s stomach. He felt bad about taking money from a lady. Once he won, he would return her portion to her and take the rest straight back to London. The other toffs could afford to lose a few pence, Anthony reasoned, but he needed every penny he could get in order to stay out of prison. Two thousand pounds worth of pennies, in fact.
    It had taken a year of ill luck—and increasingly riskier bets in his growing desperation—to amass such mindboggling debt. Because Anthony had always gambled everywhere and with everyone, months had passed before his peers began to realize he had no means to repay them. To say they were displeased would be an understatement.
    His goal was much higher than repaying his debts, of course. He wanted a pot so full of gold he couldn’t lift it without a wheelbarrow. To not only win enough never to fear being poor again, but also to win enough so that those he cared about would never lack for anything. He wanted to be rich . Not just for a few months or a few years. Forever.
    Leviston displayed his card with a sigh. He had no chance of winning, and likely knew it.
    Anthony felt oddly proud when Lady Fortune turned over her final card to reveal an astonishingly solid hand. If the trump had been different, Miss Devon would have swept the table. Alas for her, luck was firmly on his side. This was