Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham) (8 page)

“Bad business there. Do you recall when he rode a horse through the manor?”

Edward chuckled at the memory. “Up the bloody stairs in the middle of the night, chasing his wife’s ghost. Total madness. When we left Havisham, it took me forever to get used to the ticking of clocks.” The mad Marquess of Marsden had stopped every clock in the residence so it reflected the time of his wife’s passing, as though all else had ceased to move forward as well.

“I didn’t at the time, but now I understand the depth of his grief. I believe I would go mad as well if I lost Julia. I know the two of you don’t get along, but she is a remarkable woman.”

Remarkable at stifling fun. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should get to know her better.”

“Bit hard to do when she cast me out.”

“She had my blessings. You are an obnoxious drunkard.”

“You wouldn’t notice if you were into your cups as well. It’s rather bad form not to join me in a glass or two.”

“It’s more than two, and you damned well know it. Besides, I have the estates to look after. I can’t indulge to the extent that you can.” He rubbed his right ear. “She wants me to reduce your allowance.”

“Do it, if it will keep harmony in your marriage. Stop it completely.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m not going to do that. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Edward disliked when they were at odds. Perhaps he should drink less, but there was a dark hole in him that needed filling and he didn’t know what to fill it with. Still, he conceded, “I’m glad you have her, that you love her.”

“I do. Very much. She’s good for me.”

But bad for Edward. Perhaps he never should have stolen a kiss from her while pretending to be Albert. It was only a harmless prank, but she’d taken such offense, one would have thought he’d lifted her skirts and caught sight of her ankles. Her only saving grace, as far as Edward was concerned, was that—as far as he could tell—she’d never told Albert about the incident.

“Gents,” Ashe said as he joined them. “Lady Greyling is beginning to usher people toward the door, so I’m off to the Dragons. Come with?”

“Definitely,” Edward replied quickly.

“Not I,” Grey said.

“Big surprise there,” Edward responded.

“One day you’ll marry, and you’ll welcome time alone with your wife.”

“I’m not the earl. I don’t need to provide an heir. I see no reason to take such drastic measures as to marry.”

“Love is reason enough. Don’t you agree, Ashe?”

“I find love to be quite fickle. I love a woman I’m with until I’m no longer with her. I’ve yet to meet one who draws me in enough not to leave.”

“I’m not going to give up on either of you. Someday, you will both find a woman who will change your world.”

Chapter 7

M
INERVA couldn’t say why she had decided to come to the Dragons tonight. Perhaps because she’d been contemplating returning to the Nightingale, but she feared if she encountered Ashebury there, his suspicions would be confirmed. Damn his keen observations. Having seen his photographs, she understood that he was the worst possible choice to take as a lover for a solitary night. He studied, scrutinized, and focused too intently on objects, too closely on her. Although after viewing the photographs, she did rather regret that she had walked away from him the evening before. He had attempted to explain what he was about, but until she saw the evidence of his skill, she’d failed to truly comprehend the level of his talents. She imagined lying across the bed with shadows and light playing over her body while he, looking through a lens, lay in wait for the perfect image to capture. Studying her with such intensity—

Just the thought of his blue gaze leveled on her caused her to grow warm.

Although had she gone to the Nightingale, she’d have not crossed paths with him, wouldn’t have had the opportunity to be photographed, because he was here, at the Dragons. While she preferred private card games with higher stakes, after spying him, she had selected a table that wasn’t quite full in hopes the duke might join her.

He, however, seemed to prefer roulette.

Minerva found the game boring as it required no skill, did not pit her against any opponent. She enjoyed games that involved more than chance. Perhaps that as much as anything had prompted her decision to go to the Nightingale. Being there had elicited a measure of excitement, a good deal of the unknown, and a bit of skill to ensure she wasn’t found out.

But now that he was here, she was a fool to remain in the common gaming area, to risk his realizing that she was Lady V. He could blackmail her, threaten to destroy her reputation if she didn’t pose for him, if she didn’t do everything he demanded. As though she would ever give a man that much control over her. She would simply scoff—

“Pardon?” Lord Langdon asked.

Dear God, had she scoffed aloud? She smiled at the gentlemen circling the table. “The cards are not kind tonight. I believe I shall give roulette a go.”

“You abhor roulette,” Langdon said, demonstrating the disadvantage of doing things with childhood friends. They knew too much.

“I’m in the mood for something different.” Something different, something far more challenging—an entirely different game that wasn’t identified with cards, dice, or spinning wheels. One that relied on her cleverness. He might have had his suspicions that she was Lady V, but she’d managed to throw him off the scent. Where was the harm in putting herself back in his path, especially when he intrigued her so? “If you gentlemen will excuse me . . .”

Leaving her cards—two queens and two tens which she was ninety-eight percent certain would beat every other hand at the table even after the gents exchanged their unfavorable cards—she summoned a young lad in livery over to collect what remained of her chips. He would turn them in for her and bring her a voucher while she wandered over to the roulette wheel where Ashebury stood, seemingly remarkably bored, even though Lady Hyacinth was fairly draped over him.

She hadn’t noticed the lady before, but now Minerva reconsidered her destination, was about to walk on by, when Ashebury’s gaze landed on her, and he suddenly didn’t seem at all bored. His blue eyes warmed with interest. Or was that merely wishful thinking on her part?

She sidled up to the table until she stood opposite Ashebury. After acknowledging him with a slight nod, she exchanged some money from her reticule for chips. Without hesitation, she placed half of them on black twenty-five. Waited while other bets were laid down. Waited as the croupier signaled an end to the wagering and, with a practiced flick of his wrist, sent the wheel spinning, the ball dropping, jumping, rattling around, settling . . .

All the while Ashebury’s gaze remained on her, and she could only hope that he wasn’t imagining her wearing a white domino mask with distracting feathers and sequins. Perhaps she’d been foolish after all to give him another opportunity to observe her. She wasn’t so vain as to think she—Minerva Dodger—was enough to hold his interest for overly long although she certainly fantasized about doing so.

“Twenty-five black,” the croupier announced.

The other people at the table grumbled. Ashebury narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been standing here for two hours, and not once have I picked correctly.”

“I have extraordinary luck at the games,” she said as humbly as possible.

“But not with men,” Lady Hyacinth stated rather snidely.

The men standing around the table stiffened. One of the things Drake Darling had not considered when he had opened the doors of this establishment to women was that sometimes the catty ones bared their claws most unbecomingly.

“No,” Minerva acknowledged, “not when it comes to men. So I suppose it’s a rather good thing that I don’t run about draping myself over them as though I’m an article of clothing.”

Lady Hyacinth blinked repeatedly, opened her mouth, closed it as though having difficulty deciphering the words but suspecting that they were laced with insult. “I believe your words were an affront to my character.”

“Merely an observation. Still, would you like to take this down to the boxing room?”

“Oh, I’d pay to see that,” Edward Alcott said, grinning broadly.

“All my money goes on Miss Dodger,” Ashebury announced.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lady Hyacinth shoved herself away from him, then glared at Minerva. “Ladies do not settle affairs in a boxing ring. You should have been born to wear trousers.”

Was that the lady’s attempt at offending? Minerva should cease taunting her. Instead, she said, “Who says I can’t wear them now? I have two legs. Trousers do as well. Seems to me as though it would work. Perhaps I’ll give it a go. Let you know.”

“Is it any wonder you’re a spinster, that no man would ever have you?”

While Minerva considered if there was anything to be gained by pointing out that gentlemen had in fact offered marriage, a large man approached and wrapped a beefy hand around Lady Hyacinth’s arm. “My lady, your carriage is waiting.”

“I didn’t send for my carriage.”

“Still, it awaits.”

“That’s all right, Greenaway,” Minerva said, addressing the keeper of the peace. “I’ve grown bored with this game.”

She signaled to the lad who had gathered her chips at the card table. He dashed over, handed to her the voucher he’d obtained earlier, and began placing her roulette chips in his bowl. Bending down, she whispered, “It’s all yours.”

His eyes widened. “Thank ye, Miss Dodger.”

Straightening, she smiled at those circling the table. “Gentlemen. Lady. I hope your luck improves.”

After taking a dozen steps away from the table, she lowered her defenses and felt Lady Hyacinth’s barb striking deep. In spite of the offers for marriage, she knew the men had not wanted her. They’d wanted her money. Most had been polite. Some had feigned interest. Others had been blunt. She preferred the blunt ones, liked knowing where she stood, and it made it so much easier to decline without offending or worrying about hurting someone’s pride.

Although her own was presently stung. Ashebury had shown interest last night, but he hadn’t known who she was. She’d been mysterious, provocative, interesting. He might have been willing to place a bet on her tonight, and while her first thought had been that he’d done it out of support for her, her second thought sent the first straight to hell. He was placing the wager knowing the odds were in his favor that common Miss Dodger had a good right punch. Actually it was a left, but still. She’d once flattened her younger brother. Her father was a commoner, a former gambling-house owner, and she knew the ins and outs of that life like she knew the back of her own hand.

“Don’t suppose you’re headed to the ballroom?” a familiar voice asked behind her.

Staggering to a stop, she rebuilt her protective walls before facing Ashebury. “Your Grace, I hadn’t decided on which game of chance to go with, but I’d not even considered going to the ballroom.”

“I wish you would, and once there, I hope you’ll honor me with a dance.”

If he touched her with a feather, she’d fall over. “After the spectacle I just made of myself? I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, but admiration. She had too much to drink, isn’t very sharp to begin with. You, on the other hand are as sharp as a whip and could have sliced her to ribbons. Yet you didn’t.”

Dear Lord, what sort of spiteful women did he seduce? Although she was flattered that he saw her as intelligent. Her smarts intimidated most men, but then Ashebury wasn’t most men. “There’s nothing to be gained from inflicting that sort of hurt. It was beneath me to even taunt her.”

“I daresay, she was the one doing the taunting.”

“Be that as it may, she’s only just been presented to the queen. She’s young. I’m seasoned. I would have been better served keeping my mouth shut completely.”

“I’m rather glad you didn’t. I think every gent at the roulette wheel is now imagining ladies in trousers.” He gave her skirts a long, leisurely perusal that caused her mouth to go dry. He made her feel as though he had the ability to see beneath the cloth and knew exactly what her legs looked like. Not just her feet and ankles, but all the way up to her hips. “Have you worn them?”

She shouldn’t confess, and yet, where he was concerned, she seemed to find herself doing things she ought not. “At my half brother’s estate.”

His brow furrowed. “The Duke of Lovingdon?”

“Jolly good for you. Our family tree is a little confusing.”

“You can sort it all out for me while we dance.”

Her palms, which never grew damp, suddenly did. The thought of waltzing with this man brought forth images of doing other things with him, things she might have done had she not walked out last night. “I suppose I might find myself wandering to the ballroom.”

“Allow me to escort you.”

As he had last night, he offered her his arm, and she found it just as firm and muscled. Only now she thought of him trudging through jungles, battling a lion.

“Which shoulder?” she asked.

He shifted his gaze to her, and while he was considerably taller than she was, he didn’t so much look down on her as much as he managed to look over at her. He made her feel delicate when she was probably the least delicate lady in London. Yet, she appreciated the sensation he elicited, one no other man ever had.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“The lion. Which shoulder did he sink his teeth into?”

“Ah. The left. More a grazing than a sinking. Edward tends toward the dramatic. It makes him both appealing and irritating, based on one’s mood at the time that he’s waxing on.”

“Yet he’s your friend.”

He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Tragedy makes for strange bedfellows.”

So did reaching spinsterhood although she kept that thought to herself.

“Is the roulette table rigged?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“As I mentioned, I spent two hours handing over my money. You come to the table, set down a wager, and win. Seems a bit fishy considering your association to this place.”

They entered the ballroom with its mirrored walls. Minerva had always thought it a waste of space as few people were here, and it brought in no money. She had inherited her father’s business acumen and tendency to analyze every situation—every gentleman who showed interest. She took nothing at face value, most of all flirtation and flattery.

“I’m not certain how they would rig it. Besides, it makes no sense to deliberately let me win when this place made my father’s fortune.”

“Sentimentality perhaps?”

“No. Drake Darling has a head for business that wouldn’t allow that. It’s the reason my father sold the place to him. He trusted him with it, knew he would keep it profitable. Besides, the staff knows me well enough to know I’d be none too happy if they arranged it for me to win. I like a good challenge. There’s no point in playing if things are rigged in your favor.”

Having said that, it occurred to her that perhaps that was why she’d decided to forgo another Season. With her dowry, the chances of finding a husband were rigged in her favor. But it wasn’t a husband she wanted. It was a man who loved her.

“You were simply so confident with your play,” he said. “No hesitation at all in placing your wager.”

“At the roulette wheel, I go with my instincts, don’t give any thought as to where I place my bet. It’s all chance.”

“You stand toe to toe with the men then, not mewling or asking advice.”

“I was practically raised within these walls. It would be quite insincere to pretend that I neither know how the games work or my own mind. I believe a person should take responsibility for his or her actions. I would have accepted a loss with grace.”

“But it’s always more fun to have the win. Ah, a waltz is starting up. Shall we?”

She’d barely given a nod before he swept her onto the dance area, holding her scandalously close, daring her with his intense gaze to object. They were in a place of vice and sin. She wasn’t going to be a hypocrite about it. Besides, she liked being this close to him, taking in his sandalwood fragrance mingling with the aroma of scotch.

“I’ve never noticed you at the card tables, Your Grace.”

“Cards are too much work. You have to think incessantly hard, constantly trying to outfox the other fellows. I like roulette because it’s a simple game that gives me the freedom to focus on more
interesting
things.”

His attention never strayed from her, and she was tempted to believe he found her interesting. “Like Lady Hyacinth?”

“No. Like you.”

M
ISS Minerva Dodger had been on the periphery of Ashe’s world for some time now, but not until Lady Hyacinth had referred to her as a spinster did he realize how long she might have been there. She saw herself as seasoned, and a seasoned woman with no prospects for marriage might very likely take it upon herself to visit the Nightingale.