Fortune's Son by Emery Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

from an innately heightened sensibility, are predisposed to emotional play.”
    â€œSo you deny that you win by cheating?”
    He flushed. “’Tis such an unpalatable word, cheating , associated with swindlers, cutthroats, and highwaymen. By my troth, my lady, I have never marked a card or rolled weighted dice. These are the trademarks of a cheat .
    â€œI would merely say that I play with enhanced skill. I do not seek out victims to dupe, nor do I play intentionally to ruin any man. If, however, one wagers foolishly and has not the sense to know when to leave the tables, he deserves what he gets.”
    â€œAre you not still a sharp, Philip?”
    He paused to consider. “No. I do not say so. Not in the truest sense of the word. Besides, the term hardly encompasses the entire world of gamesters.”
    â€œYou speak almost as if it were a society in itself.”
    â€œIt is precisely that. Simply put, there are many types of players, varying degrees of Athenians, Captain Sharps, Amazons, blacklegs, tricksters, bamboozlers, and outright swindlers, inhabiting both the upper and the lower classes of society.”
    â€œFascinating. I have heard of the Greeks, but I don’t understand why the brethren of our much-venerated Aristotle are so vilified.”
    â€œAh,” Philip answered, “’tis a story that goes back to the days of Louis XIV, when a certain chevalier named Apoulos, a man of Greek origin, was admitted into the court. He was astonishingly adept at play and won a veritable fortune from the princes of the blood before his true methods were revealed.”
    â€œWhat happened to him?”
    â€œThe king was much displeased and sentenced him to twenty years in the galleys, where he slaved until his eventual death. A true Greek tragedy,” he quipped.
    â€œThus all players of his stamp are called Greeks?”
    â€œNay, only the select few. It is the name reserved for only those who play with great mastery. The Greek of the ton is by far the subtlest, most adroit, and the cleverest of creatures. He is accustomed to the best of company, and his deportment and manners are all that can be desired. Either he dazzles with his wit and brilliant conversation or he is one with the loftiest reserve, who in truth applies his mind wholly to his game. Even whilst engrossed in his cards, all the while he appreciates what goes on around him with veiled and furtive glances.
    â€œHe unites his profound knowledge with the most challenging conjuring feats—the partial shuffle, the false cut, the shift-pass, mucking, palming, pegging, and culling. No one surpasses his skill in drawing the ace, or breaking the cut, concealing cards or placing them. He raises the practice to an art.”
    By now, Lady Messingham hung in rapt attention upon his every word.
    â€œHe is a master who lives for naught but the game, playing each one with unparalleled skill and equal perfection, concealing himself as the most suave and venerable of courtiers, and playing only for others’ ultimate destruction. Attempts to hide emotion from him are in vain. He discerns the least movement or contraction of the features, peering with uncanny ability into his adversary’s very soul…” Philip ended with a pregnant pause.
    â€œLackaday!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “It sounds as if you describe Beelzebub himself!”
    â€œHe is not far removed!” Philip laughed. “True vice, my lady, would frighten us all if it did not wear the mask of virtue.”
    â€œBut how to recognize him?”
    â€œAs he wears a perfect disguise, one does not, unless one is equal in his own talents.”
    â€œThen it is impossible to evade a fate as his victim?”
    â€œNot at all. One can easily do so by avoiding deep play. He is a master who only delights in high stakes. Steer clear of his table, and you’ll never fall victim.”
    â€œSage advice, indeed. But I must now ask