Some of the tension in the room dissipated after Mrs. Lombard’s master stroke about her sculpture and the subsequent hands passed without incident.

When Dec got to the last six or seven cards he spread them out face down on the table.

“Not enough for a hand,” he said, “but there are other games.” His eyes slid from hers to Gareth’s and back. “Do you know what these cards are, Mrs. Lombard?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know what is hidden, which cards were not played?”

Her forehead wrinkled in a manner that charmed Gareth. He had noticed that happening quite a bit of late: finding even her smallest mannerisms and characteristics charming. She shook her head after considering Dec’s question. “No, I do not know—how could I?”

Gareth envied her innocence in this matter.

She looked from him to Dec. “Do you know?” she asked him.

Which of course was the question Dec had wanted all along. He closed his eyes. “A king and nine of hearts, a three, seven, and ten of spades, and an eight, nine, and ace of clubs.” He opened his eyes and turned to Gareth. “Am I close, Gare?”

He hated his friend in that moment. “A nine of clubs, not hearts, and a six and eight of spades, not clubs.”

McElroy flipped the cards over and Mrs. Lombard stared.

“But, how?” She looked up at Gareth, her stunned expression forcing an answer out of him.

“I have a good memory.”

Dec chuckled as he scraped up the cards and handed her the deck. “Mr. Lockheart has a very good memory.”

“But you were almost correct, too.”

“I am good enough with a single deck.” He smirked at Gareth. “We’ve tested Gare and he’s accurate up to six decks.”

Serena shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. You see—”

Gareth rarely raised his voice, but he wished to do so now—not that he yielded to that wish. Instead he spoke even softer than he usually did, savoring the control he had over his emotions and how he chose to display them, lamenting the fact he could not control Dec’s behavior as easily.

“Do you have any reason for showcasing my freakish abilities this evening, Declan?”

Dec grinned and shrugged. “Not any that I can think of.”

“But that is a wonderful skill, Mr. Lockheart. Whyever would you call it freakish?” She looked at him with the same wonder people had always displayed when they learned of his ability. Well, not everyone had looked at him that way. Certainly not the card players and hell-owners he had sharped.

She cocked her head in a way that was . . . he struggled for the word, and then avoided it when it came slamming into his brain: adorable. It was a word he’d never used before, not even for small animals or children or neat and tidy columns of figures. He wanted to slap his forehead with his palm, the way he did when he’d made a foolish mistake with some formula or equation and then suddenly saw the light. Except he had not seen the light. In fact, he was more in the dark than ever. Not only that, but he realized she’d spoken while he was experiencing his non-epiphany.