My reaction to his name made him smile wider, revealing a pair of perfectly straight teeth and a single dimple that rimmed the edge of his lips. I was staring there as he spoke up again.
“You have done poker playing before?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not recently, but I’m hoping I can keep up.”
I glanced around the table to check out my competition. Poker was a wise choice for an international party, as the game could be played primarily with universal hand signals and gestures. Fortunately, no one seemed like they’d be taking the game too seriously, and Nathan assured me we wouldn’t be playing with real money.
Our table was split evenly between three girls and three boys.
“That is Tatiana and Sarah,” he said, pointing to two girls across the table. “Eric and Jorge.” I waved and smiled as he introduced everyone I’d be playing with for the next few hours. The majority in attendance were Portuguese athletes, but Eric was an American rower and Tatiana was a Russian diver.
Nathan started shuffling the cards. “We will starting soon. There is a few people still to arrive.”
“Sangria estará pronto em breve!” cheered the guys mixing the fruity wine in the kitchen.
They started passing out small cups filled with the concoction as more guests filtered inside, filling the empty seats. The sangria looked good but smelled like equal parts brandy to wine, so I politely declined a cup. Kinsley, though overbearing at times, was right about our early morning practice; I didn’t need to be throwing up liquor while we did our workout.
“Sabe Frederick?” Nathan asked. “The swimmer?”
I pulled my attention from the room and glanced over. Nathan was beaming over at me, proud of himself for something.
“Um, yeah I know him, sort of. Why?”
He smiled wider. “He’s coming. Is the guest special for the evening.” He hesitated through the sentence, trying out the words for what seemed like the first time. Freddie was going to be a special guest?
My gut clenched at the thought and I stood from my chair like someone had lit a fire beneath me.
“What is wrong?” Nathan asked, staring up at me.
I shook my head and frowned just as the front door opened again. One of the British swimmers I’d seen in the food court walked in with Freddie right behind him. Everyone greeted them excitedly, but my heart rioted in my chest at the sight. He could slip on a pair of jeans and a gray Henley t-shirt. He could put a baseball cap on and pretend like he was Freddie, not Frederick, but I knew better. He had a certain charm about him—a faultless charm he was fully aware of—and when he glanced across the room and leveled me with his dark gaze beneath the rim of his hat, I knew it’d be a hopeless cause to try and get over him by flirting with a few soccer players.
There was no getting over him.
I wasn’t surprised when he slipped past open seats at the other tables and made his way toward me. I wasn’t surprised when he stopped at the seat beside mine, standing a foot away and stealing my comfort, my resolve, and my senses as he pulled the chair out from the table. I tried to focus down on the green felt, but it was no use. I still caught a whiff of his cologne—or maybe it was his body wash; I couldn’t tell. It was subtle but strong, and I found myself wishing for a stuffy nose so I wouldn’t have to keep smelling it. We get it. You’re a duke and you smell divine. Did he need to keep rubbing it in?
“I should have expected to find you here,” he said with a smirk I couldn’t see but knew was there. “Poker definitely suits you.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, finally turning to face him. MISTAKE. It was much easier to put up a barrier against Freddie when he wasn’t sitting inches away from me, smiling like the devil himself.
“Yeah, you’ve got quite a good poker face,” he continued.
I tilted my head and tried to get a good look at his eyes under the brim of his hat. Who was he trying to hide from in that thing? There wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t know who he was.
“Why do you think that?”
“You seem wholly unaffected by me.”
I smiled, glad I at least appeared that way on the outside.
“I am.”
He smirked. “Are you?”
It was a textbook example of dry British banter with just a tinge of good-natured provocation, but rather than giving him the satisfaction, I decided to go on the offensive.
“Congrats on the betrothal,” I said with an arched brow. “Caroline’s really pretty.”
The blow clearly found its mark as his jaw tightened. “She’s just a friend.”
“A friend that you’re engaged to marry,” I reminded him.
“My family set up the betrothal. It wasn’t any of my doing.”
I shook my head. “Clearly I don’t understand your archaic English traditions. To be honest, I didn’t even realize betrothals were still a thing. In America, we like to be in control of our own destinies.”
His light brown eyes met mine beneath his cap and for a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of the real Freddie, not the teasing London playboy, but a man faced with a future he might not want.
He opened his mouth to speak just as Nathan slapped the deck of cards down on the table in front of me.
“Everyone is here! Ready to play?”
CHAPTER NINE
Freddie
I HADN’T BEEN into the idea of poker night. I’d told Thom to bugger off a half dozen times, but he’d guilted me into attending with a sob story about how he “used to do this sort of thing with Henry all the time.” He’d have moaned on about it all night, and I didn’t want to hear about how my brother had been ace at poker, so I grudgingly accepted with strict terms: we’d go for a little bit, Thom would play a few hands, and then I’d get back to the flat and rest up. I had an early morning workout and I was still a bit jetlagged from traveling halfway around the world.