21. Tension At The Tables
Tension At The Tables
Johan’s command of the Hazard room was effortless; he seemed favored by fortune.
His charm was magnetic as he cast his own dice with unerring precision.
Each throw was met with cheers or groans, as the ever-growing pile of coins before him stood testament to his extraordinary streak.
The crowd leaned in, drawn to his every move, their eyes glinting with envy, admiration, or concealed resentment.
The air was thick with cigar smoke, wine, and brandy.
Lilith Bittermann, enthroned across the table, subjected the enigmatic foreigner to a gaze sharp enough to flay. Every win that stacked against the house chipped away at her patience, but she maintained her composure.
It was in this charged moment that a sudden yelp, high-pitched and frantic, echoed through the heavy air as a greyhound, limping and ruffled, darted through the curtained entrance.
Heads turned as the animal wove frantically between the legs of startled patrons, evading grasping hands and sending glasses of port flying.
“Catch that beast!” Lilith’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, as she rose from her seat. The footmen, distracted by Johan’s antics, leaped into action. Their attempts to corner the greyhound only added to the chaos.
Periwinkle, ignoring the frantic chase behind him, zigzagged through the room until his wide, sorrowful eyes caught sight of Miles.
“Periwinkle!” Miles cried with relief and alarm.
He dropped to his knees, arms outstretched, as the greyhound limped into his embrace.
Gathering the trembling dog to his chest, he ran anxious hands over Periwinkle’s thin frame.
The greyhound licked his face eagerly, his tail wagging as if the brutal treatment he’d endured was already forgotten in the warmth of his master’s embrace.
Though the commotion held the room captive, Johan’s fleeting glance toward the doorway noted a shadowed departure—one Lilith, in her fury, overlooked.
Beyond the threshold, Alex and an unrecognizable figure slipped past the gathered curtains.
Their exit a blur, unnoticed amid the clamor of the Hazard Room.
Johan smiled and turned his attention back to Miles and his dog.
“Upon my word! A hound in a gaming hell?” spluttered an elderly buck. “What next—spaniels at White’s?”
A group of young dandies nearby snickered. “Perhaps he’s hoping the hound will bring him luck at the tables,” one of them quipped, earning a round of chuckles from his companions.
Lilith now stood with arms crossed, her glare sweeping over the room, whereupon it settled on Johan.
“Quite the evening, madam, wouldn’t you say?” Johan drawled.
Before she could retort, the patrons called for the game to resume. Their momentary distraction over, they returned to their seats, drawn by the allure of fortune.
“Shall we continue?” Johan offered, gesturing toward the dice.
But Lilith’s eyes narrowed. Her razor-edged intellect dissected the ramifications of Sinclair’s reclaimed hound—and the how of it gnawed at her. With a slight wave, she gestured for Johan to follow her.
“Herr von Falkenstein, Mr. Sinclair,” she said icily, “I’d like a private word if you please.”
All graciousness, Johan collected his coins into a bag and followed her into the abandoned card room in the adjoining parlor.
The patrons, sensing the shift in focus, dispersed, their curiosity waning now that the spectacle seemed to have reached its climax.
One patron was heard to guess that Sinclair’s membership would be revoked for this latest stunt.
Laughter and the clatter of dice resumed as the crowd returned to their games, the murmur of conversation rising once more to fill the smoky air.
In the empty card room, Lilith seated herself at a deserted table with a rigid posture. Johan seated himself opposite her, while Miles took the adjacent seat.
“You’ve made quite the impression tonight, gentlemen,” said Lilith, glaring at both men.
Johan leaned back. “I aim to please, madam.”
Lilith’s under lids crinkled. “Let us dispense with this tiresome charade, shall we? What is it you want, sir?”
Johan met her frosty gaze undaunted. “Well, Madam, I could walk out of here with my winnings,” he said, placing the weighty, drawstring bag between them. “Or…I could leave that purse where it is and you will allow myself, Mr. Sinclair, and his hound to leave unhindered.”
Around them, the card room stirred as patrons drifted back to the green tables.
Rudi Bittermann’s entrance, however, drew stares as he thrashed through the curtained doorway like a whirlwind.
His gaze swept over the room and rested on the dog in Miles’ arms. Periwinkle whimpered and pressed himself tighter against his master’s chest, trembling with the memory of rough treatment.
Miles tightened his hold, lifting his chin in defiance.
Johan rose as Rudi strode huffing toward their table in the corner.
Rudi, captivated by the dog, was forced by Johan’s stance to alter his focus.
Before he could speak, his sister silenced him with a hand gesture.
“Yes, Rudi, the animal is here. A pity you were not more vigilant.”
Rudi looked up into Johan’s steely glare, and the two men locked eyes.
“Gentlemen,” Lilith used the word as a threat.
“Must I remind you that within these walls your decorum is mandatory?” She seethed watching their standoff, wishing she could run them both through.
“Rudi, do you not have some pressing matter elsewhere? Or is your sole purpose tonight to test my patience?”
Rudi took in more of the scene around him and made a quick grab for the purse at the table center. “This had better cover your debts,” he growled, waving it in front of Miles’ face. “Or I’ll have that mutt back.”
Through gritted teeth, Lilith corrected him. “That’s not the dog’s ransom, brother, it’s my losses. Put the purse down and leave this to me.”
For a moment, Rudi seemed poised to argue, his massive hand tightening around the purse strings.
But with a final snarl, he tossed the bag back onto the table and stalked from the room, muttering curses under his breath.
The curtains swayed in his wake, and a few raised eyebrows were shared among the other patrons.
Johan resumed his seat and looked from the cowering dog to Lilith. “Our animal has decidedly more manners than yours, Madam. But he caught the drift well enough. Cancel Mr. Sinclair’s ledger and we can call it a night.”
Lilith’s eyes narrowed, but her smile remained. “You are tiresome, sir,” she replied coolly. “And mistaken if you think cheating at my table will absolve Mr. Sinclair of his obligations.”
Johan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a confidential tone.
“Once you examine the Hazard dice later this evening, you will discover that I am not the cheater. Speaking of absolution, consider the consequences of certain practices becoming public knowledge. Laced drinks, for example. Imagine the scandal if such news found its way to the ears of your more reputable patrons. That would be detrimental to business.”
If the daggers shot from Lilith’s eyes were real, Johan would have been dead in his seat. Instead, she tightened her grip on the arm of her chair. “You presume too far, sir. Cross me, and you’ll learn the meaning of regret.”
The barb fell harmless; Johan’s smile never wavered. “Take the purse, cancel Mr. Sinclair’s ledger, and consider the matter settled,” Johan returned. “Or refuse, and you’ll learn yet again how fragile reputations can be. Yours, I suspect, would not withstand the strain.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she took possession of the draw-string pouch. “The debt is settled,” she said tersely.
Miles’ frame sagged, the weight of his debts sliding from his shoulders like a discarded cloak.
“But rest assured, Herr von Falkenstein, that no one crosses me without paying the price,” Lilith warned.
Johan stood, his smile faint but triumphant. “Madam Bittermann, it has yet again been a pleasure.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yet again? Then we do know each other?”
“Madam! You wound me,” Johan replied with mock indignation. “Am I so forgettable?”
“Cousin von Falkenstein, please!” Miles interjected hastily. “I believe we’ve finished our business here.” He hoped calling Johan by his alias would remind him he was not meant to be recognized tonight.
Johan turned, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “Quite right, let us take our leave before the night grows tiresome.”
As they strode toward the door, Lilith’s glare followed them, her hands curling into fists on her armrests. Long after their departure, Lilith sat motionless, her mind a whirl of stratagems and retributions yet unspent. This was not over. Not by a long shot.
Leaving the establishment, his hand on Miles’ shoulder, Johan turned playfully pious.
“In the words of the Christ: ‘It is accomplished!’” he announced.
They walked away, ignoring Carrick’s suspicious glare in the flickering light of the street lamps. The doorman scowled, certain no hound had entered with them—he would never have allowed it. Yet there it was, a tawny creature leaving hell’s bowels in the arm of Mr. Sinclair.
“What a deplorable establishment they maintain,” declared Johan. “The Bittermanns once boasted a reputation for refinement—one might almost say grandeur. Their current state makes it difficult to fathom the extent of their decline.”
Miles clutched Periwinkle close to his chest. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I don’t know how to express my gratitude. What you did in there…it was remarkable!”
“No thanks are required, my dear Miles. I couldn’t let you face those scoundrels alone. To have done otherwise would have been unconscionable. Everyone is safe now and that is reward enough for me.”
Miles halted mid-step. “Heavens! Lucinda! We must go back at once!”
Johan barked a laugh. “My dear fellow, is this the first you’ve thought of her?”
“Don’t jest, Johan!” Miles exclaimed. “You can see what they’ve done to Peri. She might be in greater peril!”
The Dutchman laid a steadying hand on Miles’s shoulder, “Peace, Miles. Your noble dog’s dramatic entrance created the necessary diversion for Alex to extricate her. She is safe, I assure you.”
The weight of this revelation seemed to settle on Miles all at once, and he gazed at the Dutchman in wonder.
Johan grinned at him. “Some friend I would be, to have departed without them!”
Miles swallowed hard. “You are…an extraordinary man, Johan.”
“Nonsense,” Johan replied briskly. “It is not a question of being extraordinary but of doing what is right. Now, let us concern ourselves with getting proper care for this gallant little creature. As I am certain Alex will have taken his coach, we’ll be needing a hackney.”
With that, the pair resumed their walk, southward along St. Martin’s Lane in search of a vehicle for hire.
“Next time,” Johan mused, “let’s aim for a less dramatic rescue. From what I could see, the figure being helped out of the house by Alex needed some assistance walking.”
Miles’ guilt tore at his conscience. “Oh, Lord, Alex will be mad that I let her come to hurt.”
“He has yet to rant in that fashion for any of your sins so far. If this adventure gives you a bitterness for gaming hells, Miles, he’ll be most grateful, I’m sure.”
“A quiet uneventful evening at home with Peri is all I shall ever want. I’m done with disguises, gaming hells, or desperate pursuits—only a warm fire, and perhaps a well-worn book.”
“Goodness, one scrape and you’re in your dotage?” Johan teased, nudging him. “Life is far too short for quiet evenings. Besides, I imagine Lucinda could turn even the most placid night into a whirlwind escapade.”
“True enough,” Miles conceded, a smile breaking through. “But let’s keep the adventures away from the Bittermanns, shall we?”
“Agreed,” Johan said, “though I must say, the night was not without its profits.”
Miles glanced up at him. “Profits? You surrendered your winnings to discharge my debts!”
“Indeed,” Johan said smoothly, slipping a hand into the inner pocket of his vest. “And a fair price it was. But I would have paid far more to get hold of these.”
With a flourish, he opened his large palm to reveal a pair of dice gleaming in the dim streetlight. Miles blinked, his brow furrowing as he stared at them.
“Dice?” he asked, confused.
“Not just any dice,” Johan corrected, his grin widening.
“These, my dear Miles, are weighted. I swapped them for my own when I first began casting. How else could I have won? These,” he said, jostling the dice on his fingers, “are how the Bittermanns ensure their patrons lose more often than not. Consider them another piece of crucial evidence when we bring the magistrate into this sordid tale.”
Miles stared at the dice, wonder-struck. “You mean to say…you left behind your dice in there?”
“ Yah , precisely,” Johan replied, slipping the cubes back into his pocket with satisfaction.
“There will be some winners at the Hazard table after me tonight until Lilith replaces them. I’m sure she was already suspicious of them.
But, when the time comes to present our case, these,” he said, patting his pocket, “will be invaluable.”
Miles swallowed hard, shaking his head in admiration. “You truly are remarkable, Johan.”
“Spare me,” Johan said with a laugh. “I merely enjoy ensuring that those scoundrels receive their due.”
With that, they strode off toward the Strand, leaving behind the Bittermanns and their schemes.