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The air inside White’s was thick with cigar smoke, murmured wagers, and the faint clatter of faro counters. It was the sort of ordered male chaos that soothed the nerves of any gentleman—except today, when Benedict Montgomery found even the familiar stillness lacking.
He sat beside his elder brother Edward, nursing a glass of brandy as he observed the room’s occupants: Adrian lounged with easy indifference, Andrew skimmed a newspaper with one brow raised, Kurt inspected a betting ...
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