Jo Beverley - [Malloren 02] Read Online Free

House."
    "Doubtless ones which serves his own interests. He's a cold-hearted devil by all accounts. Bryght's a gamester."
    Portia froze in the act of lifting the heavy coffeepot.
    A gamester.
    She had to put the pot down again for a moment.
    A gamester. The bane of her existence.
    The whole world seemed riddled with an insane addiction to games of chance. Before her time, her father had apparently been a gamester. After marriage he had "reformed," but instead of settling to honest labor, he had turned to investments—risky ones promising astonishing profits.
    He had lost all and shot himself.
    Only a toddler at the time, Portia had no memory of the event. She had heard of it often enough, however, especially when her mother wished to warn her against any kind of risk-taking.
    "Don't you be like your father, Portia—always thinking you are cleverer than the others, that you will win against the odds. Accept what the Good Lord sends."
    Portia had a sudden memory of that Malloren man asking if she always fought against the odds. How had he known her so quickly and so well?
    It was true that she did not like to "accept what the Good Lord sends" and seemed driven to fight fate. She had often been irritated by her mother and stepfather because they were so accepting, so unwilling to take any kind of chance.
    Now she saw she should have been grateful.
    Oliver was a risk-taker like her. He loved rough, dangerous sports, and had wanted to join the army. Denied that by his mother's distress, he'd turned to gaming and lost his money and perhaps their home. If he didn't raise five thousand guineas within weeks, Overstead Manor would be lost forever.
    Bryght Malloren was another of the same type, it would appear, and he was not a young misguided fool like Oliver. He was a mature man, steeped in the vice. Why that should so distress her, she did not know.
    Portia looked sharply at her brother. Had Oliver played against Lord Bryght? Had the man not only invaded her home and assaulted her, but filched away her life and home on the roll of a die?
    She found the strength to lift the coffeepot and thumped it down on the wooden table. "Do you know Lord Arcenbryght well?" she asked, meaning, have you gambled against him?
    Oliver gaped at her. "A Malloren? Far above my touch, my dear. I didn't even recognize him in that light. But everyone knows about them."
    "What does everyone know?"
    "That they're rich, powerful, and let nobody cross them."
    Portia sat down opposite. "If they're so rich, why would one be a gamester?"
    He sighed with exasperation. "I've tried to explain to you, Portia. Everyone plays. The king plays, the queen plays, the ministers of the Crown play. Even the bishops play. And every man who wants to call himself a man, plays."
    " But why ? "
    Ever since Oliver had returned to Overstead with the shocking news that he had lost the estate at play, Portia had been asking that question. Why would any reasonable human being risk everything on the turn of a card or the roll of a die?
    Oliver poured himself some coffee. "What can I say? A man has to play or be thought a demmed strange fellow. It's a sign of courage for a start, of nerve. Not to play is to brand oneself a timid, worthless creature."
    "If not to play would be unfashionable and unpopular, then that would take courage, wouldn't it?"
    He shook his head. "You don't understand. It's a man's thing, I suppose, though many women play."
    "I'd think their husbands would put a stop to it."
    "Why, when they play, too?"
    "But why? " Portia asked again.
    "It's exciting," he said simply.
    "Exciting? How can it possibly be exciting to lose money?"
    "It's exciting to win," he pointed out. "Come on, Portia. It's not like you to be so stuffy. Remember the time you climbed out of your window at night to meet Fort so you could try to catch the Bollard brothers poaching? It was stupid, but I'll go odds it was exciting."
    Portia didn't like having her youthful follies thrown up at her. "It was