There is a woman at this party. Slight and dainty, she's the niece of a posh lord. She hides her jawline beneath a fan, smiles with glittering power as she is invited to the card table. Her hands are always bad and her grasp of the rules seems tenuous. Forgetting her knife-sharp grin, you settle into a wine-fuelled haze. Only when the night is over do you count your coins, realize how much you've lost, and think again of that shining smile.
In its broad survey of French aristocracy, Card...