The dowager in furs at the other end of the table glowered and gave a disapproving little snort at Sophia’s remarkable straight up win on 16. Beginner’s luck. Claude touched her back in that special place to let her know it was time to go. There were other rooms, other tables, more chandeliers and champagne, more admirers. Baccarat? Her fingers touched the gilded flowers around her neck, and she paused in the doorway–good fortune trailing her like perfume.
Monte Carlo. Soon in my Gemnorde Etsy shop.