A Little Bit Scandalous (9 page)

“In any case, I started at the top story and worked my way down, noticing that they have a large amount of empty space. Entire rooms that are empty of even a curtain. The whole floor at the top is like this. I also spoke to one of the girls, and if what she told me is accurate, then there are only about seventy or eighty girls living there.”

“According to Mr. Lamb’s documents, there are more than double that.”

“Precisely,” she said with a nod.

“The girl could be wrong with her arithmetic.”

“I suppose that is a possibility, though she seemed rather intelligent.” She looked up at Roe. “It does seem to be something we could look further into, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would. Perhaps I need to visit with Mrs. Hancock.”

“You aren’t intending to ask Mr. Lamb about these issues?”

“Not yet. I’m going to look into matters first.” He eyed the book she’d set down.
Traité des Substitutions et des équations algébriques
.
“I was not aware you could read French.”

She shrugged. “There are probably plenty of things you don’t know about me.”

That was no doubt true. Yet he found himself wishing he knew all of those things, all of her secrets, like the fact that she read Algebra texts in French. “As I was saying, I want to look into matters with Mr. Lamb first. He’s the sort of person who would simply disappear if he had to, and I’d prefer to know specifically what is happening at Dover House.”

“Since you were out so long this morning, I had plenty of time to consider the matter and I have a suggestion,” she said.

“Yes?”

“I think we should follow him. I know he plays at Rodale’s. I played him one night. Well, Grey played him. I recognized him when he walked into the board meeting.”

Roe considered her words. He had not realized Nigel Lamb was a gambler. “What kind of player is he?”

“As I recall, he’s not overly competent. He’s also not talkative the way some of the other players are. Especially Finley. That man never stops gossiping. He’s worse than a woman.”

“I don’t remember anyone being overly verbose at your table, except for Cabot goading me.”

She chuckled. “You scared the devil out of them. They all stopped talking when you sat down. Moments before you arrived at the table Finley was regaling us with an affair between a housekeeper and an earl. Most fascinating.”

“I am sorry I missed that,” Roe said. It was one thing to meet Mr. Lamb at Dover House, but Caroline had observed him at a card table. It was the ultimate reveal of a person’s character. “Back to Mr. Lamb. So he was not a skilled player, but what are your other impressions?”

“I do not trust him. He seems, I don’t know, desperate, agitated. Perhaps it’s that twitchy attribute you mentioned,” she said with a grin.

“You think I should follow him around to see what he’s doing?”

She shook her head. “No, I think
we
should follow him.” She inhaled slowly. “And I’d suggest you allow me to play him again. As Grey.”

“Absolutely not.” Roe held up his hand. “No, it’s far too dangerous.” He shook his head.

“It’s truly not that dangerous. I’m certain Boomer would accompany me again. He is a burly fellow, much larger than the slight Mr. Lamb. He can keep me protected.”

“And you playing him, what will that solve?” But Roe knew the answer to that question even as he asked it. There was much they could glean about a person sitting across from them with cards in their hand. Everything from the way a person wagered, to what they drank, to the choices they made with each hand. And of course, they would be able to discover much about Mr. Lamb’s financials.

“I can gather more information about him. Watch him, see how he plays. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle their funds and their cards.”

It was a sentiment Roe had expressed on many occasion before, one he’d probably told Caroline himself when he’d taught her to play so many years before. She’d been but a girl. Fifteen, he seemed to remember, and he’d taught her to play as a way to get her mind off her brother’s untimely death, and the fact that she suddenly had been left alone in the world. Frankly, it had been the only way he’d known how to interact with her, a selfish tool of distraction because he hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth about Christopher’s death.

“You can tell Justin, let him know I’ll be there in disguise, and he can pull me out if there’s any indication of a problem,” she said. “I will be safe, Roe.”

She was wearing him down. He hated that. But she had a point. He couldn’t very well play the man himself. The duke’s presence in the back room had caused enough trouble the first time he’d done it to play Caroline, and it would rattle Mr. Lamb enough that any observations would be inaccurate. Caroline was really in the best position to do it.

Roe exhaled slowly and Caroline’s smile lit up the room. “I promise to be careful.”

“One night, Caroline, that’s all.” She came to her feet and before he knew what was happening she’d lunged herself at him, giving him a big hug.

It started out innocent, an embrace of gratitude, but he was instantly aware of her form, her very feminine body with her soft curves and those legs he knew went on forever. Damnation, but he longed to see those legs, to trail his finger from toe to the delicious apex that awaited between her legs.

She stepped backwards, her face flushed, pupils dilated. “Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out in a tight whisper.

He swore, then pulled her back to him and pressed his mouth down on hers. She responded immediately, threading her fingers into his hair and kissing him back. Her tongue slid against his and he growled in response. It was becoming obvious that he had no defenses against her. And he didn’t want any. She arched against him, pouring into the kiss the full range of her emotions. She met him touch for touch. Her hands were greedy as they explored his chest, and he cursed the fact that he still wore clothes. He grabbed her bottom and pressed her to him. She released a soft whimper in response and he nearly lost control.

Her touch—her desire—stirred his hunger like nothing else ever had. He wanted her, in that moment, in a way he’d never wanted another woman, and he knew with alarming clarity that he’d never want another woman the way he wanted Caroline. It was that thought that stilled his hands and gave him the strength to step away from her.

He tried to think of something soothing to say, something that would explain his actions, but there were no words. He was a selfish ass.

“Be ready tonight. For Rodale’s.” And then he left the room.

Caroline sat across from Roe in the carriage dressed as Mr. Grey, the boy who loved cards. It was unnerving to find her so damned attractive even when she dressed as a man, but there was a reason why women did not wear trousers. The pants cupped her curves, her rounded hips, and delicious bottom. He’d nearly swallowed his own tongue while helping her up into the carriage. Not only that, but he could certainly see how long those legs were in those trousers. Though partly hidden in a pair of dirty boots, Roe could still tell they were heavenly long and shapely.

She had obviously bound her breasts, as there was no hint she had anything but a flat chest. Her lovely hair was stuffed into a hat so that only the fringe at the front showed. It hung over her eyes just enough to hide her long curling lashes. The smudges on her cheeks, nose, and fingers finished the look, making her appear like a dirty chimney sweep. She looked adorable. He wanted her, there was no denying that, but he knew he couldn’t have her.

One touch and he’d ruin her, then he’d have to marry her; he wouldn’t be a complete cad. But he had no intention of marrying her because she deserved so much more than the likes of him. He knew what men in his family did to their wives—they cheated and berated them. What’s more, he knew he was capable of such things. He’d given things a try with Penelope and damned if he hadn’t begun the same road his father had taken before him. Roe had been tempted, had ended up with another woman in his arms. Yes, he’d stopped himself just short of bedding that woman. Still, in his mind, the damage had been done. So he’d vowed not to marry anyone. The damned title could die with him. It was what his father deserved. It was what the lot of the Grisham men deserved. Roe would not touch her. Kissing her was one thing, but he knew once he put his hands on her skin, there would be no turning back. He’d never get enough of her.

“This is not going to work,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Her head snapped up to look at him. She’d been inspecting her fingernails. “Why ever not?”

“You look like a damned chit,” he said, his words coming out in a growl.

“Only because you know that is what I am,” she said with a shake of her head. “You didn’t know it the first few times you saw me. There’s no reason to believe he’ll come to the same conclusion. I believe it was you who told me once that people see what they want to see. Mr. Lamb won’t be expecting a woman across the table tonight, and he’ll see me as a man.”

“You can tell by your damned arse that you’re a woman. Men don’t have arses like that.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I feel as if I should apologize, but that seems ridiculous. I shall be sitting so I think it’s safe to say no one will be looking at my arse.”

“And that.” He pointed at her. “Men don’t bloody well blush.”

“Of course they do. Men are ruddy, and they can be shy just as women can be.”

“I don’t like it,” Roe said. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her.

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but even you can’t suggest a better way to gather information on Mr. Lamb.” She smoothed her hands down her pants legs. “Besides, you might not like it, but after tonight perhaps we’ll have a better idea of what Mr. Lamb is all about. Consider that.”

He nodded, but remained uncertain. “If something happens to you—”

“Nothing will happen.”

An interruption he was grateful for, because he’d been about to say something he would have regretted, something that would show Caroline he cared for her far more than he ever let on.

“Boomer is meeting us there. All will be well.”

“So you keep telling me. You know I could have donned a disguise just as easily,” he said.

She let out a laugh. “That would never work. You are a duke. You walk like a duke, talk like a duke, look like a duke.”

His brows rose. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“But you disguising yourself as a man, that’s believable?”

“More believable than you trying to pretend to be a commoner.” The carriage stopped outside of Rodale’s. “Any last words of advice?”

“Watch him carefully, but don’t speak to him. Now that he’s met you as Caroline, it will be more difficult to change your voice.”

“I can manage that.”

He grabbed her hand as she reached for the carriage door. “And win, Caroline, win every hand.”

She leaned in and kissed him smack on the mouth. “I can do that, too.” And then she stepped out of the carriage.

…

Caroline eyed her cards, then looked at the other men at the table. She was fortunate Mr. Lamb was already seated and playing by the time she arrived, so joining his table had been simple. He was losing. She couldn’t help but notice that the stack of coin in front of him had dwindled considerably since she’d taken a seat. Of course, she also noticed that Mr. Lamb was not a smart player. He often made very wrong choices with his hands, seeking another hand and soaring over the necessary twenty-one sum.

He wore very different clothing here than when she’d seen him at the orphanage. He was less tidy, with no tie at his throat, and his shirt appeared old and worn, whereas during the board meeting he’d worn a smart jacket and matching trousers.

“Grey, where you been hiding yourself of late?” Cabot asked. “Playing in the main room now?”

She gave him a slight smile. “Nah, just been busy.”

“Finley was in last night and told us all about the housekeeper next door, the one who’d had the affair. She got sacked,” Cabot said.

“Indeed.” Caroline had been curious about what had happened in that scenario, and she missed the men here. They felt, in some ways, like her comrades.

She eyed the rest of them, checked their hands. At the moment, Mr. Lamb had a nine showing and he’d already asked for one card. She winced when he asked for another, then saw his face fall when the dealer dropped an eight in front of him. Nevertheless, he reached into his pockets and pulled out another pouch of money, a seemingly endless supply, surprising when it seemed he couldn’t win any hand.

Caroline won her hand. She knew from watching Mr. Lamb that he was on edge. He moved his hands so much that she would have thought he was cheating, except for the fact that he rarely won a hand. Considering his lack of skill and endless run of bad luck, Caroline was certain the man was up to something. No one could play that poorly that often unless they had endless funds of money. But that would prove nothing to the authorities.

Caroline climbed back into the carriage to find Roe lounging against the back bench, his legs stretched out in front of him, a glass of brandy held in one hand. He held it up to her as she took a seat across from him.

“What did you discover? Is Mr. Lamb up to something evil and nefarious?”

The carriage lurched forward, rolling down the dark London street toward Roe’s townhome.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I believe he is,” she said. She withdrew the hat from her head and began pulling at the pins binding the mass of hair to her scalp. “My memory of him from before was spot on. He loses. Every hand. No one who is that bad a player can continue playing again and again unless he has a large sum to play with. We know that Mr. Lamb does not, correct?”

“Yes, I had my solicitor’s firm look into Lamb’s private financials and they indicated the man’s coffers were slim at best,” Roe said. “There’s no way he’s paying for all of his playing time.”

“Precisely. He’s getting the money from somewhere. I asked around to some other players to see if Mr. Lamb had been in regularly and he had. Same story again and again. He plays for hours, he loses nearly every hand, yet he comes back at least three times a week,” Caroline said.

“There are certain people out there who will loan people money with exorbitant interest, but that would only make sense if we’d seen him show some sign of skill or luck.”

“None of either, I’m afraid,” she said. “Does he have any family?”

“Not that I know of. Perhaps we need to speak to the other board members about the monies given to the orphanage,” Roe said. “If he’s the only one seeing the financials, then he can do with them what he chooses.”

“Yes, but how to prove it?” Caroline asked.

“There are ways, but it will take time. And we’ll likely have to set a trap. Or two.” Roe took a long sip of his brandy. “You certain he didn’t recognize you?”

“No, but he did speak to me tonight more than he had the other times we’ve been at the same table.”

“Did he talk to everyone?”

“More or less. He was uncharacteristically chatty this evening.” It had bothered her, but Mr. Lamb already made her feel unsettled, so it was probably just his character. Still, she should use caution when it came to him.

“We should also consider that there are other ways he could be funding his habit, other than theft and high interest loans.”

“What other ways?”

“He could have a wealthy benefactor.” Roe shrugged. “A widow who gifts him for pleasuring her.”

Caroline opened her mouth, then shook her head. “That is a vile thought.”

“You do not have to imagine such a thing. But it does happen.”

“With men? I thought mistresses were just for men.”

“It’s far more common for a woman to be a mistress. Men, in general, don’t want to have to rely on women for creature comforts. But it’s probably more common than you’d think.”

“Interesting.” She couldn’t imagine a life like that. For a man or a woman. To be paid off for your physical favors was no better than prostitution, regardless if the payments were given in jewelry boxes rather than coins.

“What if we speak to the other board members and find out what their impressions of Mr. Lamb are? That could be helpful,” Caroline said. “Inquire as to what they know about how the funding is spent.”

“You and my mother could visit the ladies. Except Lady Fairfax, I shall handle her.”

Caroline knew they had history. He claimed it was a relationship from his past, but perhaps he intended to rekindle things with the beauty. She knew Belinda was interested in such a thing, she’d heard as much from the woman’s mouth the other day. But she hadn’t heard Roe’s response.

“I’ll also pay a visit to the other men.”

“Very well. Perhaps Millie and I will see to it tomorrow and make certain that we try to uncover some of this situation before that man steals every last dime from those children.”

If Caroline knew pledging her life’s service to the Queen would get her out of her current situation, she would gladly sacrifice it all. When she’d agreed to the board position for the orphanage, she hadn’t counted on it affecting her social calendar to such an extent. Not that she begrudged the orphanage her time, but she certainly would have been happier if her time while she was in London allowed her to avoid appearances in polite society. Nonetheless, she knew that Millie was right and this was a part of it, especially while she was reintroducing herself to Society.

It had occurred to her that perhaps Mr. Bishop saw their pending visit to the opera as a courtship type scenario, and she hated that she’d somehow misled him. She hoped for an opportunity to dismiss his intentions this evening without ruining her chances of gaining him as a benefactor for the orphanage. She did not want to hurt the sweet man.

She ran the brush through her hair and counted to ten. Next she made three large braids then wound them around the crown of her head. It was the only clever thing she could do with her hair. And for whatever reason she hadn’t wanted the maid’s assistance with that for the evening, perhaps because that made it feel as if she was taking too great of care with her appearance when that shouldn’t matter at all.

She donned her evening gown of cobalt, and inspected herself in the looking glass. No creases in the lush fabric. She leaned forward and peered closer. She patted her cheek.

Good enough
.

She wasn’t attending the opera with Roe, so what did it matter how she looked? After all, she wasn’t a young miss on the marriage mart. She was the insignificant daughter of a lowly Baron. No one would be looking at her. In that respect, Mr. Bishop was the perfect match for her. They were equally unremarkable.

Mr. Bishop was right on time. He looked handsome—or as handsome as a man with a not-so-handsome face can look. Smart was a better description. Tailored. Yes, that was it. He looked very tailored in a nice black coat with tails and matching black breeches. He lifted his top hat when he saw her and bowed slightly.

“Good evening, Miss Jellico. You look lovely tonight.” He bent his head over her hand and kissed it lightly.

She blushed like a fool and wished for a moment that this were a real courtship, that she were attracted to Mr. Bishop, and that someday they’d find themselves in love and married. But this was none of those things. This was merely an outing to the opera. “Thank you, Mr. Bishop.”

He assisted her into his carriage and seated himself across from her.

“It is a beautiful evening. The clouds are quite remarkable tonight,” she said.

He leaned forward to peek out the window. “It looks as if it might rain. I’ve noticed London gets plenty of rainy weather.”

“How long will you be here in London?”

He shrugged. “I’m not certain. I’ve always been fascinated by your fair country and decided recently it was finally time for a visit. I amassed quite the fortune back in Maryland, seemed time to spend some of it.”

“Do you not have charities in America?”

“Of course, but I felt drawn here.” He smiled at her. “Perhaps now I know why.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way. Caroline kept her eyes on the window, but was able to see that Mr. Bishop kept his eyes on her. It was unnerving, being watched. She wondered if this was what it would have been like if she’d stayed in London so many years before. Would she have felt all the young men turn and stare when she walked into crowded ballrooms? A wistful ache surged in her belly and she took a deep breath to suppress it. But as it was, she had fled back to the country where she knew her place. Being the daughter of a baron and the ward of a duke was a very strange thing. Though she was raised as a gentlewoman, she was not truly a member of the gentry, certainly not at the level of Society in which Roe and Millie circulated. Perhaps if she had stayed in London the first time she would have been accepted among those ranks. But, instead, she’d chosen to return to the country to nurse her broken heart. As a result, she now felt hopelessly unsophisticated.