A Little Bit Scandalous (3 page)

Roe sat amidst the other men, equally well-dressed, but looking impossibly broad-shouldered and handsome. She sucked in her breath.

Clipps chuckled. “Don’t fret the nerves, lad. He’s not nearly as ferocious as he appears.”

But she knew the truth: Monroe Grisham, Duke of Chanceworth, was about as dangerous a man as she could find, at least for her.

She merely nodded and tried to give a slight grin, but was certain it came out as more of a grimace. She took the seat offered her, which placed her directly across from Roe. Perfect. Now she would have to do everything she could to concentrate on the cards and keep her wandering eyes off her guardian and his beautiful face. It had been easy to do in the back room when he’d seemed far more interested in bantering with Cabot, but here, everyone was looking at her—or “the boy,” as it were.

She put her money out to buy into the game and the other men eyed her as if she’d crawled out of the gutter. If only they knew. Would they find it more or less offensive to be playing a woman than to be playing a man below their station? That thought alone gave her enough courage to face the first hand. So far, since taking her seat, no one, not even Roe, had spoken to her. She won her hand, but it was not terribly exciting considering the rest of the players did, too—the dealer had gone over with his cards.

Roe settled his glance on Caroline. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” he said evenly.

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice. You are a duke.”

Two of the men at the table chuckled, the other one seemed offended.

Roe smiled, then cocked his head. “Perceptive of you.”

They continued playing for a while, then one of the prostitutes sauntered over to their table. This was one distraction the men in the back didn’t have to suffer. Naturally, the women would be out here, where the bulk of the wealth sat.

The woman walked around the table, running her hand along the backs of the men as she moved. She stopped behind Roe, moved her hands up his broad back, and then whispered something in his ear. He laughed.

Caroline had never before seen a prostitute, but she felt certain this one was of a higher class than those who worked the dark alleys and down by the docks. This woman was actually quite pretty, if not for the age beginning to show in her face. Tiny lines fanned out from her eyes and the same lines marked the tender skin above her painted lips. Her dress was clean and stylish though exceptionally low-cut, revealing more of her breasts than Caroline felt necessary. Then again, this woman was selling her wares, so she might as well give the men a peek at the merchandise.

The woman, whom one man referred to as Reggie, made her way around the table. She stood up straighter when she saw Caroline.

“What do we have here?” she purred. “A new player, and a young one, too.” She ran her hands up and down Caroline’s upper arms. “My, my, aren’t you a skinny thing. Might need to get you some food to fatten you up.” Then Reggie gave her an exaggerated wink. “I can think of some other activities to fatten up a certain part of you right now.”

Caroline froze, looked up, and was caught in Roe’s glance.

The brown eyes staring back at him were rounded in surprise. Roe cocked one eyebrow. Reggie was doing her best to tempt the boy into some sort of reaction, but Grey sat stone still.

“Reggie, I don’t think the boy is interested,” Roe said.

She laughed, a throaty sound that usually had men lining up for her favors, despite the cost. Roe had never bedded the woman, but he’d heard tales that she was worth every penny.

“He’s merely getting warmed up. Aren’t you, love?” she asked.

She leaned close to the boy’s ear and whispered something. If it was anything like what she’d previously whispered in Roe’s ear, it had to do with smoking his cock. The boy’s eyes widened even further and he shook his head. Reggie wasn’t deterred, though. She moved herself to the boy’s side and somehow managed to wiggle herself onto his lap. Her breasts were dangerously close to the boy’s face and Reggie stretched herself so that they thrust forward even more.

She reached up to the boy’s hat, but she was no match for his quick reflexes. Grey’s hands were smaller than Reggie’s, but the force of his movement stopped the woman cold. Reggie’s gaze sharpened and narrowed in on Grey, then she relaxed a bit and smiled.

Once more, Reggie whispered something in Grey’s ear. This time a pink stain crept up the boy’s throat, neck, and into his cheeks. He was blushing. Peculiar, that, even if he was an innocent; most boys were not much for blushing. Roe’s eyes went back to the boy’s throat, where his shirt was buttoned close to his neck, the jacket held tight. It was quite evident he was missing something decidedly masculine—an Adams apple.

Roe sat back, surprise bursting through him. Well, wasn’t that something.

It took a lot to catch him off guard. A lot to surprise him. And yet, Grey had managed to do both.

Roe knew one thing for certain: that was not a boy.

That was most assuredly a woman.

The following day, Roe was roused by a scratch at his door. He rolled over and spears of light penetrated his eyes. He squeezed them shut again. “What time is it?”

“It’s a quarter of eleven, Your Grace,” Harris, his valet, said as he stepped into the room.

“Who is here?” He sat up in the bed and rubbed at his temples. Not enough damn sleep. But then again, when did he get enough? He hadn’t slept an entire night since before Christopher had died.

“Mr. Toomey is here to see you. He’s in your study,” Harris said.

“Indeed. Worthless bastard.”

“Beg your pardon?” Harris asked while laying out Roe’s clothes.

“Nothing.” He came to his feet and stretched his arms, then rolled his neck, trying to work out the knots in his body. He allowed his man to dress him, but waved him away when he came at Roe with the cravat. “Too bloody early for one of those.”

Harris’s lips twitched, but the man did not smile.

“See that coffee is brought into my study immediately.” Roe left his room and made his way down the staircase to the corridor that led to his study. The damned room still hosted all of his father’s abacuses. Clearly, Roe should donate the collection to a museum. He sure as hell didn’t want them. Odd that he hadn’t yet rid himself of their presence.

My Toomey stood in the study, holding one said abacus in his hands. “Great piece,” he said as Roe entered the room.

“Do you have news for me?” Roe went to his desk and sat.

His butler entered the room with a tray of coffee and set it on the desk next to Roe. “Anything else, Your Grace?”

Roe didn’t bother asking for anything for his guest. Toomey was a paid employee just like any of his others. “No, that will be all.” He poured himself a cup as the butler left the room, closing the doors behind him.

Toomey came and sat in a chair opposite Roe’s. Roe had hired the man several months before based on several recommendations. He was a noted archeologist, not as skilled as Cabot, but still accomplished in his own right, though he had yet to prove particularly useful regarding Roe’s quest.

“I have some news, but not the news you’ve been waiting for. The excavation of that temple is complete and the shield is nowhere to be found. It must be in a different location all together,” Toomey said.

It was an obvious assumption that had they not discovered the piece yet it must be somewhere else. But Roe resisted the urge to point that out. It would do him no good at all to anger the man. Toomey’s services were widely desired, and until Cabot agreed to hunt for the shield, then Toomey would have to suffice.

“You know Cabot?” Roe asked him. He took a hearty sip of the black coffee, relishing the way the hot liquid brought life to his tired bones.

Toomey frowned slightly, then bobbed his head. “We’ve met, on occasion. I heard he got bit by a viper. Dangerous and nasty creatures. It’s why I carry this with me at all times.” He withdrew a sizeable knife from a sheath attached to his pant leg. “Cuts their heads clean off.”

“Appetizing,” Roe said.

“Cabot doesn’t like to work with you titled men,” Toomey said. “He prefers to fund his own expeditions, though he has been known to take assignments directly from the museums.”

Now that was something Roe had not considered. If he spoke to a curator, shared with him the research he’d done and where he thought the artifact was hidden, perhaps they would agree to contact Cabot for the quest. “You don’t mind, do you, Toomey? Taking my money and looking for my antiquity?”

“Not even a little bit. I’m good at hunting. Doesn’t matter to me what I’m hunting. It’s all about the journey itself.”

“Indeed. I received your notice and I shall have the requisite funds deposited into your account. You leave soon?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’m ready to get back out there. Bloody ship takes a lifetime.”

“I shall expect updates in your letters.”

Toomey’s hands fidgeted with the hem of his coat. He was, no doubt, eager to return to the expedition. The man always grumbled about having to return stateside for supplies and new directions. He skirted the chair and nearly ran from the room, he moved so quickly.

Now Roe was awake and had many hours to fill until that evening when he’d send his invitation to
Mr. Grey
. He took a moment to scrawl out the note. If she went to Rodale’s, the invite would be waiting for her. It was time to bring her charade to an end. Roe knew the boy was, in fact, a girl. Or rather, a woman. He wouldn’t be the only man that put it together and figured out her little secret. He’d send the invite along with his carriage in hopes that she’d be unable to say no, as she’d said the night before when she’d played in the main room at Rodale’s.

Reggie had flustered her, distracted the girl enough that she’d not done well with her play. She’d left early with some excuse, but Roe couldn’t leave it alone. He wasn’t normally such a gentleman, but the truth was the girl would be in extreme danger if she continued her charade inside the gaming hell, even if it was Rodale’s. The longer she played at Rodale’s, the more risk she was in. Admittedly, Roe was curious as to who she was. It was rare to find a man with such skill at the table, but a woman? He wanted to know how she’d learned to play. Perhaps she was French. They’d been playing
Vingt-et-un
longer there than here in England, so she could have learned it at a young age.

In the meantime, he’d pull together his research regarding his quest for Constantine’s Shield and look into scheduling a meeting with the curator at the British Museum.

…

Caroline had nearly earned fifteen hundred pounds, which was a good start, but she still had no notion how much money she’d need for the work on her house. The Murdock lease didn’t officially end until next year, but since Mrs. Murdock’s death, her family had contacted Caroline and she’d agreed to release them from the obligation early. It was perfect, really, giving her the opportunity to move into the house herself. Until then, she’d simply have to wait and continue earning as much money as she could.

Mr. Clipps, the man who’d retrieved her the night before, elbowed his way over to her. “This was left for you.”

“Thank you,” she said accepting the envelope. She turned it over to inspect it. It was Roe’s seal, stamped in green wax. It opened with a slight crack as she slid her finger under it and unfolded the parchment.

Mr. Grey,

It would bring me great pleasure if would be my guest tonight for a friendly game of
Vingt-et-un
at my house. The rig I sent for you should be outside waiting. I do hope you won’t disappoint me.

Most Sincerely,

Monroe Grisham, Duke of Chanceworth

For a moment, all she could do was stare at the parchment in horror. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and her hands began to shake. What did this letter mean? Why ever would Roe want her to come play cards at his house? Had he discovered her?

Slowly, her present surroundings seeped back into her awareness. Mr. Clipps was still watching her.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Um, yes. Everything is well.”

“Do you need—” Clipps cleared his throat, then dropped his voice almost to a whisper. “Assistance reading the note?”

She started in surprise. “I can read,” she said quickly, trying not to sound offended. Of course Clipps would assume she couldn’t read. Or rather that this dirty, chimney-sweep of a boy couldn’t read. Never mind that Caroline herself could read in English, German, and Latin. He thought she was ignorant.

She quickly folded the note and tucked it away into the pocket of her trousers as she moved away from Clipps’s scrutiny.

No, perhaps what should worry her was not that Clipps assumed she couldn’t read, but rather that Roe assumed she could. But maybe she was looking at all of this too closely. Perhaps Roe did this sort of thing all the time. Besides, the real issue wasn’t whether or not he saw through her disguise. It was whether or not she could afford to ignore his request. Refusing to go to his home would be the highest insult.

Yes, the invitation had been discreet. No one else would know she had snubbed him, but
he
would know. And he would come looking for her. Maybe tonight. Certainly by tomorrow evening.

That left her with two options. Either she could ignore his request and play for tonight, knowing she couldn’t return to play at Rodale’s again, or she could accept Roe’s invitation, brave the beast in his den, so to speak, and face the consequences.

The decision should have been an easy one. After all, it wasn’t as if she feared for her virtue or her physical safety. Roe was an honorable man. She certainly knew that better than most. No, Roe would never harm a woman. So, even if Roe had guessed her secret, she would be safe.

She waited until Boomer was momentarily distracted to slip out of the back door. She found the carriage waiting for her, the Chanceworth crest emblazoned on the door, and she slipped inside. It rolled forward, rocking back and forth down the street.

The decision had been made.

It was, no doubt, a terrible decision. Still, curiosity demanded she accept his invitation. Nerves thundered through her body. She should tell the driver to turn around, take her back to Rodale’s. Boomer would be looking for her now. Would he go back to Mildred’s house and tell Millie he’d lost Caroline? She hated to think Millie would be pacing with worry.

And then the carriage stopped. She peered out the window and her stomach lurched. The last time she’d been to this townhome had been on the heels of her humiliating proposal. She’d only stayed there a couple of weeks before pleading with him to allow her to return to Dorset. He had not argued or tried to stop her, simply nodded and said he’d have a carriage ready for her return. But that was nearly a lifetime ago. She’d been but eighteen at the time and had still been grieving for Christopher and the rest of her family. Now she was four and twenty and had made a life for herself in Dorset. She had made friends in the village, tutored some young boys who struggled with mathematics, and read to the elderly whose eyes had grown too weak to see the books. And she’d recently moved to London to become her own woman. She was different and there was nothing to fear about going into Roe’s townhome.

Tonight, she’d be in control. She’d win as many hands as she could and take his money without a second thought.

…

It was risky inviting the chit to play at his house, but he’d rather he be the one to expose her, show her how dangerous her game was and then send her on her way. It was a wonder he was the first man to notice. And once the others did, she would be in trouble. Serious trouble. Rodale’s was the nicest gaming hell in all of London, but it was still full of men who would toss her skirts up—or rip off her trousers in this case—and have their way with her.

He admired her, he’d give her that. She was obviously quite intelligent and crafty with numbers, which begged the question of where she’d been educated. She played in the back room and her disguise made it impossible to know if she was of noble birth. Or perhaps her parents were wealthy merchants who could afford the type of education she must have had. He had heard of noblemen allowing servant’s children to take lessons from the private tutors brought in for the aristocratic children, but that was rare. His own father had been loath to pay for Justin’s education, even though he was as much Justin’s sire as he was Roe’s.

Roe paced his study and waited for her to arrive. He already had the table set up with the cards and he’d brought in a tray of refreshments. He would take his time letting her know he’d uncovered her secret. This was, frankly, the most entertainment he’d had in months. He heard the knock at the door and didn’t even bother to appear busy. He was expecting for her, so why pretend otherwise? A moment later, the butler brought the “boy” into the study.

“Mr. Grey to see you, Your Grace,” the butler said.

“Indeed. Mr. Grey, come in.” She walked in, dressed as she had been at Rodale’s—the same overly large coat and brown hat that was no doubt covering her hair. Even the same soot smeared on her face. Her disguise was quite good, he’d give her that. At first, even at second glance, she looked very much like a young man. But with a closer examination, Roe could see the delicate nature of her features, the femininity of her face. There was something oddly familiar about it.