A Little Bit Scandalous (2 page)

Justin exhaled loudly. “You are not going to cease badgering me about this until I agree, are you?”

“I believe that is one of my finer gifts, my ability to badger people.”

“You realize entering the back room is going to cause a stir all over Rodale’s.”

Roe stretched his arms. “Since when do I give a damn about causing a stir? One could say that is a favorite pastime of mine.”

“This will not start a trend, where you damned aristocrats go to the back room to win monies from the poor working men,” Justin said.

He chuckled. “I doubt the rest of the blue bloods are eager to mingle with their servants and the like in such a setting. But I’ll be as discreet as possible.”

“See that you do.”

…

Caroline checked her cards again, then mentally ran through the ones that would remain in the deck. It was a risk to take another card, but she felt certain her calculations were correct and would result in a win. She eyed the dealer, then inclined her head, indicating she wanted another card. The man’s eyebrows rose, but he dealt her a card nonetheless. A three, precisely the card she needed to bring her total to twenty. She would win this hand. The rest of the table turned their hands over. The dealer chuckled. “You’ve won again, boy,” he said.

She gave a tight smile and accepted the money shoved in her direction. It was a good night, though it seemed the other players were beginning to get annoyed with her. She’d introduced herself with a fake name the first night she’d come, but no one seemed to remember it or her for the first several visits. Then they noticed she was winning, and winning regularly. They simply called her “the boy,” which was fine by her. Maybe if they all heard that enough, they’d believe it and no one would question or even consider she was anything but.

“That’s seven hands in a row, boy,” the man next to her said. He was a tall man with broad hands and long fingers. She thought she remembered people calling him Cabot. He’d been coming to play the last week or so. “Pretty good luck.”

“Perhaps it is more skill than luck,” Caroline said, using the lower voice she had perfected over the last month. She’d heard once that people saw what they wanted to see, or in this case, heard what they wanted to hear. She dressed as a boy, spoke as a boy, and thankfully, no one had suspected otherwise.

The man laughed, a jovial and authentic laugh. “And cocky, too.” Cabot popped Caroline on the back so firmly the motion jarred her teeth. “I like that. Name’s Cabot.”

It wasn’t arrogance, but she wouldn’t correct him. “Grey,” she told him. If all the men here thought her winning streak was luck, then they hadn’t noticed her counting. The prideful part of her wanted them to know, wanted them to be impressed with her skill, but pride had no place in this. She was here to earn funds so she could finally be in charge of her own life, finally be beholden to no one.

Another man joined their table, one she recognized from her other visits to Rodale’s. He was a butler for the Earl of Bromley and he was an incorrigible gossip. She suspected he talked as much as he did to simultaneously entertain himself and distract the other players. Caroline was pleased he’d joined their table instead of one of the other three in the room.

Cabot gestured toward the butler. “Finley, you’re not usually off work on Wednesdays. Did you get sacked?”

Finley smiled and picked up his cards. “I did no such thing. Lord Bromley and his wife have gone to the countryside for the week. His sisters are too occupied vying for the affections of Viscount Hopkins this evening, so I decided to come and see how the likes of you are doing.” His eyes moved around the table as he checked his opponents. “Appears I chose a good night to come.”

“The boy’s showing us up,” Cabot said.

All eyes turned back to her. Caroline shrugged. “I enjoy the game.”

They returned to their hands. After the second round, Finley nodded toward Cabot. “How’s your injury healing?”

Cabot lifted his cane and tapped it against his leg. “The break is all but healed, but the damn bite hasn’t. At least, not quickly enough.” He shook his head. “The doctor says I should be back as new in a couple of months. Can’t travel until the damn wound heals, though.”

“Snakes,” Finley said with a shudder. “That’s what you get for traveling to some god-forsaken country. You ask me, London is dangerous enough as it is.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Cabot said. “Besides, someone has to go out there and find all the treasures that the blokes in the other room like to look at in the museums. Might as well be me.”

Cabot was obviously some sort of explorer or archaeologist. Caroline couldn’t afford to be distracted by their conversation, as interesting as that might be. She kept her eyes on the cards and her mind in the game, keeping careful count with each hand.

“What’s the new gossip?” Erickson asked Finley.

Finley eyed the man, who was at least twice his size, and then shook his head.

“Come on, I know you’ve got something,” Erickson insisted.

“Very well,” Finley said after a long pause. “Lady Abernathy’s youngest daughter eloped with one of their footmen.”

Cabot let out a low whistle. “That will no doubt cause quite the scandal.”

“Yes,” Finley said. “Especially since it was said that the Earl of Burkfield had expressed intentions to court the girl.”

Caroline won another hand, as did two other players since the dealer ended up with only eighteen. She always loved it when Finley showed up and fed them gossip. It worked two-fold for her—kept the other players distracted, but also gave her that improper glimpse into London’s most elite families. She couldn’t help it; she truly loved to hear the gossip from this side of the stairs, as it were. If they only knew how the commoners spoke about them, laughed about them.

They played another hand in silence before Finley spoke again.

“It would seem Mrs. Williams, the housekeeper next door, had an affair with Lord Rochester’s brother,” Finley said. “She’s twice his age.”

The door connecting the main room to the back room opened. Normally, the only people who crossed that doorway were employees of Rodale’s. At the moment, though, another man stood in the room. A hush fell over the floor.

“What the devil is he doing on this side?” Finley asked.

“Looks gentry. Perhaps he’s looking for you,” Cabot said with a chuckle. “Have you been gossiping about him? Who is he?”

Finley ignored Cabot.

The man’s large frame was imposing standing there in his greatcoat, waistcoat, and cravat. Cabot was correct in his assumption. This man was quite obviously a gentleman. From where Caroline sat, she could not clearly make out his face.

“Your Grace,” another dealer said. “I believe you’ve come through the wrong door.”

The man shook his head. “No, I’ve come to play. Where’s the boy?”

His voice carried across the room and seemed to echo in the silence. Caroline knew that voice. Nerves fluttered to life in her belly. Her mouth went dry. She fought the urge to gather her winnings and run out of there. There, standing in the same room as her, was Monroe Grisham, Duke of Chanceworth, and her legal guardian. The man she’d once tried to give her heart to. The man who had turned her down flatly with nothing more than a no.

Ah, the foolish fancying of her youth. Thank goodness she had recovered from that particular folly. Still, she hadn’t seen him since she’d left London nearly six years before. But there he was, the very man who had taught her how to play this game.

The boy
. She was the boy.

Damnation! Roe Grisham had come to play her.

Caroline swallowed the lump in her throat.

“The boy?” the dealer asked him.

“Yes, the one who has been called the best in this room. Where is he?” Roe asked, surveying the room.

“That’s the Duke of Chanceworth,” Finley said through his teeth.

She looked up just as her dealer put his hand in the air motioning to their table, and Cabot came to his feet, swearing.

“There’s no need to bring the boy into this,” Cabot said. “I know you’ve truly come to see me. Of all the arrogant things to do, come in here to play! Of course you couldn’t be a true gentleman and invite me to your table out front. Nonetheless, I’ve told you, several times, that I will not work for you.”

Roe turned his attention to Cabot. Roe’s brows rose slowly. “And you would be?”

“B.D. Cabot.”

“Ah,” Roe said with a slight nod. “Yes, well, it is nice to finally make your acquaintance in person, but I believe you are mistaken. Your reluctance to work with me, admittedly, is peculiar, but I shall not beg you. That being said, I came tonight to play the best.”

Caroline’s heart thundered. She’d heard people say that of her, that she was the best, but she hadn’t known the tales had breached the door into the big room where the entitled sat. Roe stepped further into the room and she was finally able to see his face.

Her breath caught.

She felt as though the past six years had changed her dramatically, not merely in appearance but her person as well, her character. But those same six years hadn’t changed Roe at all. Nor, sadly had the time altered the affect his appearance had on her.

That square jaw, covered in just enough stubble to give him that devil-may-care attitude, framed his lips. He kept his brown hair short, almost Roman in appearance. His aquiline nose and thickly lashed green eyes completed the picture of his very aristocratic face.

“The boy is here, Your Grace,” the dealer said.

Those green eyes narrowed in on her and she had to fight the urge to reach up and check her hat, ensure her hair was still well hidden. She had known it was a risk to play at this particular gaming hell, knowing she could very well run into either Roe or his half-brother Justin, who was the namesake and owner of Rodale’s. But it was the only gaming hell Millie would even consider allowing Caroline play in. She’d had to beg the woman not to alert Justin.

Boomer nudged her under the table. They’d developed a secret code so that people wouldn’t know he was here to protect her. She scratched her cheek, letting him know all was well and she didn’t need to leave. She would stay right where she was and play Roe. She could beat him.

Then maybe he’d notice her
.

No, that wasn’t the reason she was here. She didn’t need him to notice her, she reminded herself. Despite the wounded pride of the girl she’d been, she was an adult now. Soon, she wouldn’t need his protection, or his money, either.

She also enjoyed the playing, she couldn’t deny that. And damned if things hadn’t gotten bloody boring in the country. She knew she could have come to London at any time and had Millie re-introduce her into Society so that Caroline could find herself a husband. But she wasn’t about to traipse around London in pretty dresses and pretend she was searching for a husband when all she wanted to do was play cards and be dependent upon herself and no one else. She was here to win. Those monies would go a long way in restoring her family’s townhome so she could finally live on her own.

Roe stepped over to the table. Cabot still stood, and Finley also came to his feet. They looked ready to bolt. “Sit, I won’t bite. I merely want a friendly game.” He took a seat and laid his monies on the table.

He looked over at Caroline, but she kept her head down, trying to hide much of her face under her cap. He was looking at her too intently, studying her. But it had been years since he’d seen her. She’d grown and her face had changed somewhat, as most people’s did when they aged from youth to full adulthood. With the current disguise, there was no way he’d recognize her. Still, the thought niggled in the back of her mind: What if? What would happen if he called her out, told everyone here she was a woman?

His eyes narrowed. “What’s your name, boy?” Roe asked.

“Grey,” Caroline said after clearing her throat. She spoke softly and did her best to lower her voice so that she appeared to be somewhat masculine. She looked up at Cabot and Finley and nodded, encouraging them to stay. She’d feel more comfortable if they were here. Especially if Roe and Cabot had some sort of previous relationship, perhaps it would take the onus off her.

“Well, then, Grey,” Roe said. “I’m told you’re quite talented at this game. I came to see for myself. You may call me Roe.”

Cabot and Finley took their seats, yet, still there was utter silence at the table, as if everyone held a collected breath.

“Deal, man,” Roe said loudly.

The dealer popped the cards on the table, then quickly shuffled the deck, beginning the game anew. Perfect for Caroline to begin counting again.

Roe had taught her to play when she was fifteen and she’d come to live at his estate. He’d sat her down in his study one day and dealt the cards. She’d been a quick study for the game. He had never once mentioned the art of counting the cards so she could predict the odds of each hand. She’d struck on that notion on her own, though she’d never told him. But it was a skill that came quite easily to her and it enabled her to win. And to win a lot.

The cards were dealt, and she watched each player as they checked their hands and made their requests. She looked at her own hand. Twenty-one. A perfect hand.

There was a ghost of a smile on Roe’s lips when Caroline turned over her cards. Then the next hand was dealt.

“What the devil do you want with Constantine’s Shield?” Cabot asked abruptly.

Roe looked up over his cards and eyed Cabot, but said nothing.

Cabot shrugged. “Merely curious.”

Fascinating how suddenly Finley was the one who had grown stone quiet and Cabot was so talkative. His words surprised her, though. She would have thought Roe had given up his search for that artifact, since it had been so many years since he and Christopher had gone to Persia and looked for it. It had been the last time she’d seen her brother, though she’d received many letters from him while they’d been on their trip. He’d loved every moment of their journey, and she’d felt such warmth for the man who’d allowed her brother such a grand adventure.

“It’s an odd thing to be searching for, is all,” Cabot said. “Especially since there is no proof it actually exists.”

Roe once again eyed Cabot, bumping
his chin out. “I happen to believe it is real, and I’ve looked for a long time. I’d like to see it found and put in a museum so others can enjoy it.”

“
You’ve
looked for it? It seems to me all you’ve done is hire one worthless crew after another,” Cabot said.

Roe flipped his cards over; he’d beaten the dealer by one.

She waited for him to argue with Cabot, to tell him about the fated trip he’d taken with Christopher when they’d both fallen ill. But Roe said nothing.

…

Three hands into the game and Roe knew everything he’d heard about this boy had been true. He was a very good player. Exceptional, really. It made Roe wish, for a moment, that the boy was truly why he’d breached that doorway and stepped into this room. But it had all been about Cabot. He’d suspected that, given the opportunity, Cabot would make inquiries. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. In all the years Roe had searched for that bloody antiquity, he’d learned one thing: archaeologists were as varied as any other men, but when it came to curiosity, they were all alike.

Cabot didn’t disappoint with his own inquisitive nature. It hadn’t taken the man ten minutes before he’d had to ask Roe about the quest, which meant that while he said he wouldn’t work for Roe, there was still a chance he’d change his mind.

The man had tossed out a challenge, one that Roe could meet. He could tell Cabot all about the excursion he and Christopher had taken. The truth was it would prove nothing, and Roe never talked about it. To anyone. So he allowed the bait to fall flat.

“I think that about does me for the night,” Cabot said. He grabbed his cane and pulled himself to his feet. “Good luck with that quest of yours,” he said to Roe.

“Indeed. Do let me know if you change your mind about working for me,” Roe said, but he never once allowed himself to look up at the man. He’d be damned if Cabot could see his desperation. For the evening, Roe would have to be satisfied that he’d actually met the man and had a conversation, as brief as it was.

The game continued. He couldn’t very well get up and leave now that Cabot was gone. Roe had claimed to want to play the boy and play him he would. The opponents at the table were decent; he couldn’t complain. And they were quieter than the blokes he played out in the big room. Curious, that. Almost as if these players took things a bit more seriously. Of course, they were playing with money they’d earned, rather than what they’d taken out of familial coffers.

He eyed the boy. Grey, as he’d introduced himself, studied his cards and kept his eyes on the table, watching each play. He never looked up at the players directly, instead choosing to watch their hands. They had different strategies. Roe studied the people, made his plays that way, though obviously, he took the cards into consideration. But he knew how to judge the men he played with, what kinds of cards they held, and what kinds of choices they’d make based on those cards. He worked out the probabilities for every combination of cards. It was those odds and probabilities that he liked most about this game. The cards the other players ended up with affected Roe’s hand.

It had taken him nearly a month to convince Justin to allow him back here. Tonight had been twofold and he could say he wasn’t disappointed in how things were playing out. Grey was a talented player, and now that Cabot had left, Roe could sit back and enjoy the sheer skill of the game. Roe scratched at the table, indicating he wanted another card. It was a five, bringing his total to nineteen. Now it was up to the dealer.

The dealer had twenty, beating Roe, while the boy turned over the coveted twenty-one. He was paid and solemnly collected his coins. And so continued the game. Grey won most of his hands, Roe won most of his. But Cabot’s words echoed in his mind. If he were a true gentleman, he’d invite someone to play at his table out front.

He wouldn’t invite Cabot, because that would be too obvious. But he’d extend an invitation to Grey, as that would have the same affect. For whatever reason, Cabot had decided Roe was unworthy in some regard and therefore, wouldn’t agree to work for him. Perhaps, if the man saw Roe being hospitable to the young man, he’d change his mind. Roe needed to invite the boy to play at his table.

…

Caroline waited nearly a week before returning to the gaming hell. Monroe’s appearance in the back room had spooked her. Not so much that she hadn’t won, of course. In fact, winning when Monroe was at the table had added a certain thrill to the proceedings. Nevertheless, in the cold light of the morning, it had seemed smarter to avoid him in the future.

So she had stayed away from Rodale’s, knowing he’d lose interest quickly enough. She knew better than anyone that Monroe had a very short attention span. The phrase “out of sight, out of mind” might have been invented for him.

“Grey, good to have you back,” Cabot said. “I thought perhaps the big, bad duke scared you away.”

She settled in at her usual table and gave Cabot a tight grin, not wanting to give him a full smile. “No, just been busy.”

“What’s your conflict with Chanceworth?” Finley asked Cabot.

Cabot shrugged. “He’s entitled, arrogant. I don’t much care for these lazy, wealthy men who sit in the convenience and comforts of their homes while the rest of us dig in the hot sand, get bitten by bloody snakes, and the damned titled fool gets all the credit for the discoveries.” Cabot gritted his teeth. “I don’t like that.”

“Evidently,” Finley said with a chuckle.

One of the men who worked at Rodale’s stepped over to the table. Caroline recognized him from her previous visits; he wasn’t a dealer, so she suspected he was some sort of manager. He looked directly at her.

“Mr. Grey, you’ve been invited to play at the Duke of Chanceworth’s table this evening,” the man said. “In the other room.”

Well, she had thought Monroe’s attention span was short. On the other hand, perhaps his memory wasn’t as faulty as she’d expected. She didn’t want to consider what it said about her that she was more memorable as a dirt-covered boy than when she was trussed up in her silken finery.

“That’s quite an honor,” Finley said. “At least the duke will see it as such.”

“You’ll have to come back and report to us,” Cabot said. “Tell us all how it is on the other side.” The men in the room roared with laughter.

Boomer eyed her, but she gave him a quick shake of the head. She knew it would draw more attention for her to decline the invite than to simply accept, so she nodded.

“I’m Clipps,” the man said.

“I’m Grey.” She followed the man through the doors that connected this room with the main room. The difference was breathtaking.

She tried to school her features so as to not reveal her nerves, since she didn’t want to attract any more attention than was necessary. It would already be quite scandalous for a commoner to be invited out front to play a duke, but if that person was discovered to be a woman… Well, that would be more scandal than she could survive.

The room was nearly six times the size of the back room, and it boasted as many more tables and games. Dark, rich paneling covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and two large fireplaces flanked the broad wall in front of her. She followed Clipps as he led her through the maze of tables. Two roulette wheels sat over to her right, both surrounded by large, noisy crowds of men, and she spotted at least fifteen ladies of leisure moving around the room. Clipps continued to weave between the tables, stopping every now and again to speak to a patron or answer the question of a dealer. They finally stopped at one in the center of the gaming floor. A huge chandelier hung overhead, sparkling with what seemed like a million candles.