A Little Bit Scandalous Page 4

  “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 he
r 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.

  “I’ve prepared everything for us,” he said. “If you have no objections, we can simply play the two of us, taking turns dealing.”

  She shook her head. “I have no objections.”

  “Excellent. Grimm, that will be all.” The butler bowed, then closed the door behind him.

  Roe stepped over to the table and took a seat. There was no need to wait for her to sit first as he would a lady, after all.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” the boy said quietly, and Roe could clearly hear the soft lilt of a woman’s voice. He shouldn’t have missed it the other night.

  “You are quite welcome. You have impressive skills with the cards. It is nice to find a worthy opponent. And I don’t have any prostitutes hiding in the hall to distract you tonight.”

  She nodded and said nothing else, but he caught sight of a small smile. She took her seat but did not look up at him.

  The lighting was much better in his study than in Rodale’s and whilst Roe shuffled the cards, he took another moment to study the “boy’s” features. He was fascinated, and a bit annoyed with himself, that he hadn’t recognized it before. But he’d been focused on Cabot. And, well, he had to admit her disguise was quite good.

  She had a pert nose that tilted up slightly at the tip, defined cheekbones, and a bow-shaped mouth. It appeared she’d gone to great lengths with her clothes to hide any curves she might possess, and it seemed she’d done something to dull what Roe suspected would be a natural glow to her cheeks and lips. Perhaps it was the soot that marred her complexion. The flat cap she wore covered her eyes so he couldn’t determine their color.

  He dealt the cards and watched her as she studied her hand.

  Her hands were small, with fingers that were long and delicate. Her nails were blunt and covered in soot. No doubt she was trying to pass for a chimney sweep.

  She had taken great care with her disguise and it had obviously worked, since she’d been successfully playing at Rodale’s for nearly two months. It was on Roe’s mind to inquire as to how much money she’d acquired in that amount of time, but he kept the question to himself. Perhaps it was best asked later, once her identity had been revealed.

  “Now then, shall we play?”

  Again she inclined her head, obviously taking great care not to speak overly much. He’d noticed this about her the other times they’d played. Perhaps her voice was too feminine. That was how he could get her to reveal herself. Get her talking and open the door for him to call her out.

  She asked for a card, then decided to stay with her hand. He looked at his own cards, took one, then another. Eighteen. She flipped hers over, revealing a twenty. She won. He handed her the deck for her deal.

  “How long have you been playing?”

  She dealt them each a hand. “Since I was young.”

  He listened for signs of a French accent, but found none. That didn’t mean her family couldn’t be French. “Did your father teach you?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “My father didn’t teach me, either. It was a mate from school. He was originally from France, but he ended up at Eton. I’ve been playing ever since.” She was quite crafty at avoiding lengthy conversations. Perhaps she was shy, but he suspected it was more to hide her identity. He wasn’t deterred by her short answers. “Have you been in London long?”

  Briefly, her eyes—lovely brown eyes—flickered to his, then she looked back down at the table. There was something about those eyes, something oddly familiar. “Your Grace, I’d prefer to focus my attention on my cards.”

  “Very well.” So, conversation was not going to work. He’d need another tactic. They played in silence for several hands, her winning some, him winning the others. She truly was a worthy opponent. He almost hated to unveil her identity since doing so would most certainly mean the end of their rivalry.

  Chapter Four

  Caroline did her very best to focus on her cards and the ones coming out of the deck. She felt certain she had an accurate count, but damnation if Roe wouldn’t stop talking. And damnation also that the lighting in his study was so much clearer and brighter than it had been at Rodale’s. She could see his features all the more, which meant he could see her features as well. He was still as bloody handsome as she remembered him being, if not more so. And just as cavalier.

  She should never have accepted this invitation. Should never have come here. Her foolish pride and arrogance is what brought her here. She was determined to beat him, to walk out of his house with a fatter purse. Winning money from him somehow would mean more. But that was asinine. His money was no different than any other man’s.

  Only two more days until she could see the state of her family home, and then she’d truly know what kind of funds she needed. Until then, she’d keep playing and winning. But for tonight, she could play only a few more hands. His scrutiny was making her nervous, and she was far more likely to make a mathematical error when she was addled.

  She checked her hand—a six and a four. He’d stayed with his, not asking for any additional cards, so she knew he had a good hand.

  “How many women have you bedded?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Good heavens. Was that truly what men discussed? Was it a common question, common information shared? What should she say? She thought she could easily pass for a boy of twenty. How many women should a man of twenty have bedded? She had no notion of the appropriate range. One? Four? Four seemed an awful lot for a boy of twenty.

  She looked back at her cards, still a six and a four. She dealt herself another card, a ten. “I don’t believe that’s necessary,” she said in hopes he’d drop the subject.

  Roe nodded knowingly. “Ah, I see, you are still a virgin.” He gave her a smirk.

  “That is not what I said.” Arguing with him made no sense. There was no need to defend Mr. Grey, he did not exist, so it mattered not how many women he would have bedded.

  “But your refusal to answer the question is answer enough.”

  “Faulty logic,” Caroline said, careful to lower the tone of her voice. She should make an excuse and get the hell out of there before her disguise was destroyed.

  “You’re being evasive,” he said, looking up at her face, but she refused to meet his gaze. “And you’re blushing.”

  She pushed back her chair and stood. “I should be going now.”

  He stood also. He was between her and the door in seconds, moving faster than she would have thought possible for a man of his size. “But we’ve barely begun playing.”

  There was a double meaning in his voice. Panic pulsed through her veins, but she pushed it aside. Had he seen through her disguise? He couldn’t know who she was, because that would most certainly mean the end of her charade and she still had money to earn.

  “I was …” God, had she forgotten to drop her voice? She edged back a step. “I have to leave.”

  He followed her back one step, then another. He grasped her chin in his hand and for one heart-wrenching moment, she had the absurd impression he was going to kiss her. But then he stopped. “Even if you clean chimneys, you could wash your face.” His gaze narrowed as he searched her face. “First, we need to settle up. I believe after this last
hand, you owe me something.”

  She jerked her head up and looked at him square in the face. “I owe you nothing.” Damnation, she’d forgotten to disguise her voice.

  His eyes widened, then narrowed in on her face. He took a step away from her, scrubbing his hand down his face. She knew in that moment that he recognized her.

  “Son of a bitch!” he said. “Caroline Jellico!”

  The game was up and she had no one to blame but herself. She blew out a breath. “Hello, Monroe,” she said, allowing her voice to return to normal. “So, you didn’t know it was me until just this moment?”

  “No. I knew you were a woman, but I had no notion it was you.”

  “My voice?”

  “I suppose. All of it together. Standing this close to you, your eyes. Damnation! What the hell are you doing in London?” He turned and pointed at her. “And what are you doing playing at Rodale’s?”

  “Playing cards, the same as you,” she said with an indifferent shrug.

  “But you’re a woman.”

  “Precisely the reason I’m in disguise.” She tore the hat off her head and scratched at the back of her neck. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders and she gave her head a little shake, relieved to have her hair released. Then she realized he was staring and she stilled, unsettled beneath the weight of his gaze. She wasn’t used to being looked at, not like that.

  “No one else has noticed I’m not a man,” she said quietly.

  “You don’t know that.”

  She frowned. “Of course I do. Otherwise someone would have called me on it. Had me removed.” Or worse, but she didn’t allow herself to think about that. “If you knew I was a woman, why did you invite me here tonight to play cards?”

  “I wanted to expose you, frighten you. A gaming hell is no place for a woman. Men there will treat you no differently than they would Reggie.”

  He was right, of course, she knew that.

  “Does Justin know?”