"Are we playing Texas Hold'em?" I asked, naming the variant of the game beloved of casinos and frat boys the world over.

"Yeah," Luke said.

I shuffled the cards and dealt two to each player, face down. They peeked, and betting commenced. Mark tried to hide his smile as he threw a handful of chips into the middle. He had something good.

Huey followed suit. "Come on, boys, make me rich."

Louie tossed his cards down in disgust, muttering, "Did you shuffle these properly?"

"Bad luck, mate," Huey said, although he didn't sound sympathetic.

When everyone had bet or folded, I dealt three cards—the flop—face-up on the table. Mark groaned. He was terrible at this game. I could read him like a large-print book.

"I'm out," he said when his turn came.

I dealt the fourth card, and everyone stayed in. Either they all had good hands, or they thought they could bluff their way through. I found myself watching Luke. What was his tell?

I dealt the fifth and final card, and Luke and Huey folded. Dewey leapt up, fist pumping the air when he won with a full house against Ben's pair of eights.

"Yes, I'm the man!"

That was debatable, considering his choice of drink had been a margarita. As he raked the pile of chips towards him, I gathered the cards up and dealt the next game.

While I wasn't playing, I got the chance to study the others. Mark stayed cautious, and Ben tended towards gung-ho. He thought he could bluff his way through, however terrible his cards were. Most of the time, it didn't work.

"Bollocks," he muttered as his pile of chips dwindled further.

Huey was the easiest to suss out. When nerves got the better of him, his right foot tapped. I could see the slight movement carrying through to his torso. There it was again—tap, tap, tap. He was bluffing. Players like him were easy to take money off. The game lasted another hour, until Luke's face lit up in a grin as he won the last of Mark's chips.

"Hand them over. What were you doing in Vegas last month? Not practising your game, that's for sure."

"No, I was hanging with my posse of showgirls," Mark said.

"And your girlfriend was where?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Fine, I went to a golf tournament. Anyhow, you just got lucky."

Lucky? I wasn't sure. Luke played with confidence, and he'd rarely had to show his cards. Maybe he was just good at bluffing? I wasn't sure.

"Shall we play again?" Luke asked. The hideous wooden clock on the wall showed it was just after eleven.

There were murmurs of assent.

"You joining in this time, Ash?"

"Love to, but I need to check on Susie and Hayley first." I had visions of them collapsed in a corner somewhere.

"Not a bad idea," Dewey said. "We should check the kids too. We can pick up another round on the way back."

"You might want to order the drinks first if you want them to be ready before morning," I suggested.

"Good point," Mark agreed. "Luke, can you check on Arabella, and I'll go to the bar?"

Ah, so Mark was Arabella's brother. Poor bastard. He seemed so normal in comparison.

If anything, the music downstairs had got louder. I found Susie and Hayley on the dance floor, and while Susie was missing her shoes, at least they were both still upright. I counted that as a win. Back in the bar, the old-timer was making a meal out of pulling a pint.

"Is he almost done?" I asked Mark.

"You've got gin and tonic instead of lime and soda. You're not driving, right?"

I shook my head. "I'll live with it."

While we waited upstairs for the others to come back, I used the bathroom and took a look around. The suite undoubtedly cost more per night than I earned at the stables in a week, but the absence of bags suggested nobody planned to sleep in it. Someone had money to burn. I suspected Luke, from what I'd heard about him.

When everyone had returned, Huey dealt the cards, and my shitty luck held. A two and a five, not even in the same suit. I folded. While the others bet, I stacked my chips—the cheap plastic kind you bought for a few quid off the internet rather than the clay ones used in Vegas—in colour order. Black, blue, red, green.

Ah, Vegas. The city of sin, and believe me, I'd embraced its reputation. I'd also learned to play poker there. On my first trip, my husband had bought me into a game.

"We're in the gambling capital of the world. Put the drink down and play," he told me.

I knocked back the last of my cosmopolitan while he gave me a five-minute crash course in the rules. Full house, straight flush, three of a kind, yadda, yadda, yadda.

"So, what it boils down to," I said, "is if the cards have people on them, bet. If they're the same suit, bet. Otherwise, fold."

"Something like that."

At three in the morning, I stumbled out of the casino with chips overflowing from my handbag.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to play?" my husband asked.

"I don't."

I didn't even know what my last hand was. The cards had been too blurry. But before I could explain that, I fell off the kerb and he carried me back to our hotel.

After that night, I made an effort to learn the rules of poker properly. Now when I won, it was due to strategy rather than blind luck and alcohol. Whenever I was in Vegas, I played, and the guys at work had a weekly Wednesday night game I joined when I was home. Who was topping the league now? My money was on Dan.

While Vegas was always fun, I'd preferred the underground poker games I sometimes played. Men invariably underestimated the pretty girl, which meant I could act like a ditz then wipe the floor with them. That was always fun, especially when they got angry. I loved a good fight.

But there was none of that tonight. As the moon rose higher, I won a couple of big pots, and soon I had a nice collection of chips. A million imaginary dollars, ten stacks of black ten-thousand-dollar chips, all the same height. OCD city, baby, OCD city.

Ben, Huey and Louie lost their chips and quit before twelve. Lightweights.

"Better go get the brats," Ben said.

Dewey left soon after them, dividing his chips among Luke, Mark, and me. "I promised mother I'd have my sister home by half twelve, and we're already late."

What was it with mothers in this part of the world? They kept grown men firmly under their thumbs. Still, it helped me. I knocked Mark out at a quarter to one with an outrageous bluff—his cautiousness came to the fore, and he folded.

One to go.

"I'll round up Portia and Arabella while you guys fight it out," Mark said, and he disappeared off to search for them.

That left me alone with Luke.

"You're not a bad player," he said. "Where did you learn?"

Err, time for another bluff. "My grandma taught me when I was little. We used to play for pistachios. She was a shark."

"She taught you well. I learned at boarding school, playing for tuck-shop credits."

"You went to boarding school? Isn't that a bit old fashioned?"

"They're still around. I started there at eight. My father liked the idea of having a son, but not the reality of it. We got on better when I wasn't at home."

"How about your mother?"

He rolled his eyes. "You've met Tia."

So, it seemed Luke's childhood hadn't been idyllic either, although his had been eased by liberal applications of money. With the cards dealt, we played another hand and Luke managed to take a few chips off me.

"Nice bluff."

"You don't know I was bluffing."

Not for sure, but I did now, because he looked away when he answered. With only the two of us left in the game, it was easier to figure him out. He clenched his teeth when he had a bad hand. Subtle, but it was there.

When my turn came to deal, I ended up with a pair of aces. "Gonna wipe the floor with you, hot stuff."

"Hot stuff?" Luke asked.

"I've met you four times now."

He chuckled. "You're finally starting to realise that there's more to me than an incredibly handsome face?"

"No, I can see you're self-deprecating and modest too."

I was about to lay out the flop when Luke's phone rang.

"Mark," he mouthed, then put the phone to his ear. "Where? ... Shit, how drunk are they? ... Can they still walk? ... Okay, I'll meet you out front in five."

He dropped the phone on the table and let out a long sigh. "I've got to go."

"What's happened?"

"Mark's found the girls. Since we last checked them, they seem to have got hold of some alcohol. Tia promised she wouldn't drink, but apparently she can't stand up and she's lost her shoes and her handbag."

He rose to his feet and shrugged his jacket on.

I got up as well. "I'll pack up the poker stuff. Where's the box?"

"Just leave it. It belongs to the hotel. What cards did you have, anyway?"

"Not telling."

"Oh, come on..."

"Nope. I never give away my secrets." At least the big ones.

"Fine. A rematch, then?"

"When?"

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through it. "Friday. I can get away on time."

Why not? It wasn't like there was much else to do in Lower Foxford. "You're on."

Luke grabbed my hand and led me into the corridor, his palm hot against mine. The contact made me suppress a shiver—few men in my life would dare touch me in that manner—but at the same time, it was nice for someone else to take control for a change. Fending for myself all the time had left me drained.

We found Mark and the girls in a hallway downstairs. He'd corralled them onto a window seat where the pair of them were bouncing up and down, talking non-stop. Portia's cheeks were flushed, and sweat dripped from Arabella's forehead. When we got close, Portia leapt up and enveloped Luke in a hug.

I caught his look of shock before it turned to concern.

"She doesn't normally do that, does she?" I asked.

I hadn't seen much of her, but she'd never struck me as the huggy, kissy kind.

"No, never," Luke whispered.

Shit. I peered into her eyes. Yup, pupils dilated. I sat next to Arabella, caught her flailing wrist, and checked her pulse while she chattered away about how much fun she was having. Her heart was hammering.

"Come on, dance with me." She got up and tried to pull me with her.

"I'll pass."

She grabbed Portia instead, and they started waltzing.

"How much have they had to drink?" Mark muttered.

"We only saw them an hour or so ago," Luke said. "They can't have had that much, surely?"

"Guys, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think this is just alcohol."

"What are you getting at?" Mark asked.

Luke was quicker on the uptake. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you suggesting my little sister's been taking drugs?"

I put my hands up. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. But yes, that would be my guess."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I just can't believe she'd do that. She never has before."

"That you know of."

"Yes, that I know of." His shoulders slumped as his usual confidence ebbed away. "Hell, I should be spending more time with her. Our mother's worse than useless."

Portia danced over to him.

"Cheer up, misery guts," she sang.

He gave her hand a squeeze and focused on me.

"Any ideas what they could have taken?"

"Probably ecstasy. Maybe coke. If it's coke, they'll start coming down from it soon, but I think E's more likely."

"How do you know?"

"Reformed wild child."

I figured I might as well tell the truth for once in my life. It had a terrible habit of catching up, and I just hoped I'd be well away from Lower Foxford before my fabricated life unravelled.

Luke's mouth twitched, and I knew he wanted to ask for details, but Portia chose that moment to puke. Luke held her hair back, looking green.

Meanwhile, Mark wasn't feeling so charitable. He slammed his hand against the wall then winced. "I'm gonna find the little scroat who gave them drugs and arrest him. Then I'll put him in a cell with a bunch of guys who don't take kindly to newcomers. I can have a squad car here in two minutes."

Arrest him? Marvellous. I'd just spent the evening playing poker with a cop.

Mark turned to his sister. "Bella, who did this?"

She clapped his cheeks between her hands and grinned. "I love you. Did I ever tell you that?" When he looked less than amused, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the nose.

"No, you never did, actually."

I interrupted their family bonding time. "Look, far be it from me to tell you what to do, but it might be best if you took Arabella home and put her to bed. You can deal with the rest tomorrow."

Mark sighed and some of the anger left him. "You're right."

"You don't think we should take them to hospital?" Luke asked. "Won't there be side effects?"

Given the choice, I'd keep them on drugs all the time. They were both more pleasant that way.

"No, just keep an eye on her and make sure she drinks plenty of water."

"That's it?"

"I'd also suggest not taking her home to your mother like that. And when she comes down from the high, she'll be a bitch. Even more than normal."

Okay, perhaps I shouldn't have said that last part.

But Luke didn't seem to pick up on my insult. "In that case, she'll have to come home with me."

He and Mark eventually managed to shovel the two girls into their respective cars, and Portia turned on the radio in Luke's Porsche and started singing along to Taylor Swift. Badly.

"I'll see you later," Luke muttered as he started the engine.

"Good luck," I said to the night as he roared up the drive. "You're gonna need it."

After they'd gone, I set off in search of Susie and Hayley, hoping my two colleagues hadn't chosen to pop pills as well.

But no, they were sprawled out on the dance floor, fast asleep. Susie was still barefoot. The music had stopped, and with the lights on, the mess was clear to see. Those poor hotel staff. I'd rather clean up after the horses than tackle the ballroom.

Spilled drinks and mushed-up streamers made it look as though a rainbow had thrown up. Stray corsages grew from the debris, their petals wilting, and a sea of shoes, hair accessories, and bow ties strewn across the dance floor provided evidence of just how much had been drunk that evening. The chances of finding Susie's footwear in that lot were slim. Thankfully, she wasn't short of spares.

I stooped and shook the pair of them awake.

Hayley looked up at me. "Suze, look, there's an angel. With a halo and everything."

I glanced above my head. "That's actually a disco ball but, hey, whatever."

Sidestepping a shard of glass, I hauled them to their feet and held them up as they stumbled through the hotel. Please, say some fresh air will sober them up a bit. When we got outside, our car was waiting, bang on time, and I said a silent "thank you" to Susie's father. Had she done this before?

As the car purred through the night, I wondered how Luke was getting on with Tia. She could be a handful at the best of times, but tonight? I didn't envy him. I almost called to check that he was okay, but in the end, I decided I didn't know him well enough. Yet.

Back at Hazelwood Farm, the chauffeur and I half carried, half dragged the near-unconscious pair into the cottage.

"Thanks, buddy," I told him.

"You're welcome, ma'am. I'm quite used to it."

Yup, Susie had definitely done this before.

I finally got to bed with time for three hours sleep before I needed to face the horses. Sometimes, life in Lower Foxford made my old days as an assassin seem relaxing.