Read The Lady Plays Her Ace (The Langley Sisters) Online
Authors: Wendy Vella
Tags: #Regency Romance
The Lady Plays Her Ace (The Langley Sisters)
THE LADY PLAYS HER ACE
Oliver (Ace) Dillinger is a man who has made his fortune the hard way, first with his fists, then by learning to be both a gentleman and a businessman, before entering the fringes of London society. He is ruthless, determined and trusts only a select few. Only one person unsettles his world, Lady Althea Ryder. She is feisty, opinionated and beautiful, and as a duke's daughter, far above his reach. Determined to put distance between them, he pushes her away, but Thea pushes right back, not willing to be set aside and Ace soon realizes that walking away from her is going to be the hardest challenge he has ever faced.
By Wendy Vella
The Lady Plays Her Ace
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The Lady Plays Her Ace published by Wendy Vella
Copyright © 2015 Wendy Vella
ISBN KINDLE: 978-0-9941157-1-3 |
DEDICATION
This one is for the latest member of our family
Our beautiful granddaughter Riley May Vella.
Already so precious to so many,
I can't imagine how we existed without you.
Love you always, Nana and Granddad xx
CHAPTER ONE
Oliver Dillinger, known as Ace to many, turned up the collar of his heavy greatcoat before stepping from his carriage into the damp, dismal day.
"Find somewhere to stable the horses and then come back and watch, Riff," he said, looking up at his driver. "I will not need you until after the fight."
"Will do, Sir."
"My name is Ace," he said patiently as he had more times than he cared to count.
"Can’t be familiar around company, Sir. Mr. Elliott told me that," Riff said, looking down at him through the rain.
"And yet I’m paying your wages, so surely what I say should be of more importance than my butler?" Ace added.
"But we gots to do things right," Riff stated smiling, which displayed a broken front tooth that he'd received from a fist. "Pardon me, Sir, I meant got. Mr. Elliott told me that gots is not a word."
Ace had been foolish enough to hire a butler who was quick-witted and knowledgeable in the ways of London society, and he felt it his duty to teach everyone in the household to comply with those ways, his employer included. Not a man to stand on ceremony, Ace would rather people called him Ace or Oliver, because as a coal miner's son he did not need more. However, his butler felt differently. Knowing he was simply wasting his breath to argue further, he waved a hand at his driver, grunted something about getting out of the rain and then headed for the line of men waiting to get into the barn.
A prickle of awareness rolled up his spine as Ace took his first step. He saw a man lurking on the fringes of the crowd, but could not make out his features as his cap was low over his eyes. Ace couldn't be certain but thought the man was watching him—which was not unusual as he usually drew attention—but the unease he felt made him take a second look, but when he did the man had disappeared. Shrugging off the feeling, he made his way towards the barn.
"Ace."
"Harry." Ace shook a man's hand, then another as he joined the line of men working their way forward. He may not fight for money anymore, but he still enjoyed watching others that did so, and here he was usually amongst people who expected nothing more from him than acknowledgment.
The talk around him was about the two men who would face each other across the ring shortly. Weights were discussed and how many rounds it would last, and then, pulling some money from his pocket, Ace placed a bet, just before he headed into the barn.
Men looked at him as he wove his way through the crowd. He smiled and nodded, stopping to offer a greeting when he saw someone he knew. He made for the rear of the barn, where his size would allow him to see over the heads of the others present.
"Excuse me." Ace tapped a man on the shoulder so he could get by. The man turned, then, wide-eyed, stumbled back a few feet.
"Thank you." Ace swallowed his sigh. He knew people feared him and that some of that fear came from a reputation that had grown even when he had no longer used his fists. People had always liked to embellish stories about Ace, especially when he did not refute them. In fact, he neither confirmed nor denied—it was easier just to ignore them. One thing Ace had realized early in his life was that if someone wanted to believe the worst of you, then they would, no matter how much you protested your innocence.
Ace was tall and well built, and that often made people take a step back when he approached, especially women, and as there was little he could do about that, he just accepted that, too. He was polite, and could find a reassuring smile when required, but there was nothing he could do to make himself less intimidating.
Like the men about to get into the ring, he had also once made his money with his hands, but those days were long gone, and he never wanted to go back there. Those were dark days that had left him with scars, and memories that he buried deep inside his head. He had won nearly every fight he had fought, but eventually the cost had been too high to continue.
Reaching one of the outer walls, he found a place to lean and settled in to wait. The weather had forced the fight inside, but the barn was big and accommodated many, and like he, most had come to enjoy a good mill. The hum of voices was getting louder as ale was consumed, and the excitement grew.
The ring had been set up on a platform, and the two boxers had just walked through one of the doors and were making their way through the crowds. He knew both, and had boxed against one. Big and evenly matched in height, it should be a good spectacle.
Letting his eyes wander again, they fell on a man in front of him. Tall and solid, he had the shoulders of someone who could hold his own should the need arise, but it was his dress that intrigued Ace. The man wore livery, the kind you would see in any affluent household on any given day, which suggested he was here with whoever paid his wages. His feet were braced, hands clasped behind his back. Ace leant forward slightly and noted the dark hood of a cloak before the servant. Whoever it was was shorter by at least half a head, and smaller in stature. As he watched, a hand lifted, encased in pale gray leather, and moved to adjust the hood. Then it patted and tucked something, presumably hair, out of sight, and then lowered once again. It had been a feminine gesture, one he had seen hundreds of women do to a tendril that had escaped a bonnet or elaborate hairstyle.
Interest raised, Ace moved forward. Was that a woman under that cloak—and not just any woman, if that livery was any indication?
Drawing alongside the servant, he gave the man a pleasant look which was returned from a pair of brown eyes that Ace thought he may have met in the ring in his past, or even on a street in his fighting days. Surprise flashed briefly, confirming his thoughts, and then Ace let his eyes pass to the person standing before the servant.
There wasn’t a great deal of light in the barn, as most was centered over the ring, but there was enough to see she was nervous. The thick cloak was of rich, black velvet and trimmed down the front and around the hood with pale gray fur.
Ignoring the swell of expectation growing around him as the two boxers approached the ring, Ace looked at the woman.
"Can I help you, Mr. Dillinger?"
These words were from the servant and startled the woman, although she did no more than tug the edge of the hood forward.
"No, thank you," Ace said, turning to address the servant before once again looking at the woman. Leaning towards her, he inhaled deeply. He knew that scent, the subtle hint of orange blossom. Lifting his head as the woman turned, he looked into the gray eyes of Lady Althea Ryder.
"Oh, dear," she whispered.
"Indeed," Ace replied with a smile. "Imagine me finding you here, my lady."
She took another furtive look around her to ensure no one had noticed him beside her, but she was lucky. He usually attracted a great deal of attention; however at that moment everyone was watching the ring.
"Do be quiet, Mr. Dillinger," she whispered, returning her gaze to his. "I have no wish for anyone else to realize I am here, and as you are hardly the inconspicuous type, perhaps you should move along." She snapped the words at him, as if he and not she were in the wrong. He’d noticed that about her before the few times they had met—she always went on the attack, even when she should be retreating.
"You believe standing here in an expensive, fur-lined cloak, with a large servant dressed in livery at your rear, is making you inconspicuous, my lady?"
We are attempting to blend, Mr. Dillinger, and thus far have been quite successful."
She tilted her small, delicate chin upwards. "So I would ask that you move along, if you please."
"And I repeat, you have a large, livered servant at your rear, Lady Althea, who is in no way inconspicuous."
"Oh, is he not?" She turned toward the servant who now looked as he if was in pain. "I had thought he would just blend in like the other men, even in uniform, and appear as if he had just popped in to view the fight whilst his employer was busy," she said, frowning now, "but perhaps we should have dressed him in less noticeable clothing.
"He is the only man in the room in uniform that I have seen thus far, my lady."
"Surely not." She rose to her toes and tried to see over the heads of the men, most of whom were at least half a head taller than her.
"Perhaps it would be better if we left, my Lady, now Mr. Dillinger has noticed you?"
"Certainly not, Ted. I have waited quite some time to see this, and have no wish to leave until at least one punch has been thrown," Lady Althea said to the servant, as around her the men started to get excited at the prospect of the fight starting.
"There are not a lot of activities in such a small town, my lady, nor a great deal of shopping to be had, and it would be a brave soul indeed who would be out strolling down the streets on such a day. Therefore, your theory of your footman’s employer being busy does not hold a great deal of weight. " Ace kept his face blank, when what he really wanted to do was smile. She always made him want to smile…or frown. The woman had captured his attention from their first meeting and held it firmly. Not that he would ever let her know that. She was a Duke’s daughter and well above him in every way.
"Do not laugh at me, Mr. Dillinger. I have thought out my plan to attend today quite extensively, and do not appreciate your ridicule."
"I really think we should be leaving, my lady." Her footman was looking anxious now.
"Not yet, Ted." Ace swallowed his smile as she turned to pat the servant’s hand.
"And do your brothers know that you are here, my lady?" Of course they didn’t, Ace thought. He knew the youngest, Will, quite well. He would never allow his sister to come here, even if she had an army of servants surrounding her.
Something flashed across her gray eyes and then was gone. Uncertainty, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was fleeting and her chin was once again elevated. Ace studied the smooth pale skin of her face and the soft blush of color high on her cheekbones. No one who really looked at this woman could mistake her as anything but nobility. It was bred deep into her bones—the fragile structure of her nose and cheeks, the arch of her eyebrows and sweep of her lashes. She wasn’t a beauty with flashing blue or green eyes, but far more interesting to Ace’s mind. Althea Ryder was elegant to her toes, but what had caught his attention from their first meeting was her manner. She confronted people head on, she didn’t look away or drop her eyes, she said what she wanted to, and Ace rather thought this would result in her setting a few people back on thier heels, if it hadn’t already.