Luck Is No Lady(31)

Emma laughed. “What a description. Have you been listening to gossip?”

“It is really the only proper way for a young lady to learn about things deemed unsuitable for her ears,” Lily countered with a sweet and innocent smile. “I overheard some gentlemen talking about Bentley’s last night, and I perked my ears for a listen. They were quite excited to retire to the club later in the evening for some wicked-good fun, as they called it.” She lifted her brows in question. “So is it? Wicked, I mean?”

“Not while I was there. In fact, it was rather quiet. I am certain it gets much more exciting in the evening,” Emma assured her.

“Oh, to be able to observe such a place for just one night…” Lily mused.

Emma eyed her curiously. “That does not sound like you, Lily. Since when do you even tease about indulging in such inappropriate behavior?”

Lily shifted her gaze to avoid meeting Emma’s eyes. “Just because Portia is perpetually desperate for adventure does not mean I cannot desire a bit for myself. On occasion. In moderation,” she added with a slight blush.

Emma smiled, but something in Lily’s tone gave her a twinge of anxiety.





Nine


Mason Hale’s large, hulking form dwarfed the small desk in his cramped and untidy office.

The frown on his wide brow was heavy as he ran one blunt-tipped finger down the lines of entries in his book.

It had been a rough couple of weeks. So rough it made him question whether he could continue much longer in the business he had chosen. There was a lot of risk, which often led to high rewards, but there was little stability.

And he managed better than most.

When he first made the decision to quit boxing and turned to the financial aspect of his sport, he hadn’t realized just how much went into running stakes for the events he used to participate in. But he quickly discovered he had a head for the stuff. Still, he worried the risks might not be worth it anymore.

He turned to open the envelopes that had arrived in the post that day.

There was one marker still outstanding that was prodding his thoughts that morning.

Edgar Chadwick had borrowed a lot of money just prior to his death. It was an amount Hale rarely loaned, especially when he didn’t know the borrower well. But Chadwick had begged, and Hale had relented. For a while now, he had been trying to up the quality of his clientele. Chadwick was a gentleman through and through, even if he ran thin on blunt. Getting him on the books was a step in the direction Hale wanted to go.

Then the damn fool went and died before paying him back. Hale had reached out to the man’s family in an attempt to reestablish the debt and received the most politely mannered letter of dismissal he’d ever gotten. It was frustrating, but Hale had been doing all right without the money. He had even been considering forgiving the loan. It seemed he might be growing a generous streak. Certain changes in a man’s life could do that, he supposed.

The post contained nothing from the Chadwicks, not that he really expected anything. He had discovered they were no longer living at the address the old man had given him. Likely, they had gone to stay with relatives. Hale had sent someone to start seeking their whereabouts, but so far no information had been returned.

He shoved his books aside, distraction claiming him as he started to consider heading home early. Then he noticed a piece of mail he almost missed. He recognized the handwriting on the envelope, and tension stabbed him between the shoulder blades.

As he suspected, the note said little else beyond asking for more money. The amounts Molly required were getting higher with each demand. Hale had a suspicion she had gotten herself into some sort of trouble.

He crumpled the missive in his fist, anger and frustration flowing hot in his blood.

He needed to do something about the woman. Something more permanent. And that would require capital.

Glancing back at his books, he opened them again and studied their contents. There was no room for a soft heart in his line of business—or his life. It was time he put more effort into locating the Chadwicks. The money from that loan would be more than enough to solve the problem with Molly for good.





Ten


Snipes opened the door with a grunted greeting, which Emma decided to interpret as a progressive step in their relationship. He was clearly not inclined to leave his post that morning, so she made her own way upstairs. As she approached Mr. Bentley’s office, she noticed the doors were closed, and she released a small breath of relief. Having to pass by his office every day was going to be a serious strain on her nerves.

But as she drew nearer, she heard the unmistakable sound of a woman’s exclamation, followed by a giggle of delight and then silence.