Luck Is No Lady(74)
Curious glances followed her as she made her way through the growing crowd to the gaming room. It was clear many of the other guests knew each other, despite the masks, and that meant they also recognized a stranger in their midst.
Emma did her best to appear relaxed and unperturbed.
She suspected many of the club’s members were in attendance tonight, and she intentionally avoided looking too closely at anyone in particular, for fear of recognizing someone from the ton. It was inevitable she would encounter gentlemen who traveled in the same circles of polite society as the Chadwicks, but she hoped she could avoid it as much as possible.
Beyond that, she had to rely on the mask to shield the details of her face and the tendency for people to see only what they expected to see. Her social acquaintances would not expect a proper spinster at a gambling hell and certainly would not expect to see her done up in the manner she was.
It had to be enough.
Stepping through another wide archway into the gaming room, Emma paused for a moment.
It looked so different from when Mr. Bentley had shown it to her from the balcony above. There was a rhythmic movement of activity as the crowds hovered then flowed around the tables. The laughter and shouts of triumph as someone won at the hazard table filled the space with exhilaration. And the many mirrors covering the walls reflected it all a thousand times over beneath the sparkling light of the chandelier.
A footman stepped up to her with a tray of champagne and she took a glass. Taking a sip, she realized she was gathering more notice. Gentlemen were turning from their play, one at a time and in groups, to observe her, a solitary figure hovering by the doorway. To be less conspicuous, she began to stroll about the room. Her unhurried pace was an intentional contradiction to the disquiet making her fingertips tingle and her ears buzz. She had to get better control of herself before she started playing, or her focus would be off.
She could manage this.
The crowd was thick enough it required some graceful maneuvering to wind her way through as she made a circle around the room. As she went, she could feel nearly every leering glance and open stare. The lack of circumspection in the gentlemen was a stark reminder that she was not within the strict confines of social propriety.
Fine noblemen who would not spare her a glance in the ballrooms of high society did nothing to shield their interest here.
Though she had never met any of Mrs. Beaumont’s girls, aside from Jillian, it was likely at least some of the other women present tonight were from the west wing. She wondered if the others, who had arrived on the arms of their gentlemen escorts, might be courtesans or mistresses.
Everyone would suspect she was of the same mold. That had been her intention in borrowing this dress. Still, it felt disconcerting to be stared at so boldly.
At a loss for what else to do, Emma ignored the attention she was garnering. She sipped her champagne and took note of the various avenues of play. She eased past the hazard table, the faro table, a table of vingt-et-un, and a rousing game of écarté. Then she circled near the smaller tables, where guests were seated at games of whist, loo, casino, and others. As she went, she began to feel some of her trepidation easing away as the sights and sounds of the room slowly sank in.
As her anxiety eased, it became replaced by the sense of excitement that surrounded her, and she grew impatient to get started.
Her father had ensured she possessed a thorough education when it came to the many various forms of gambling, and she felt quite confident participating in any of the games currently in play. But Emma hadn’t the slightest idea how to join in. Making her way back around to the faro table, she found a place to stand within view of the game. A footman replenished her champagne and she relaxed even further into the atmosphere of celebration and extravagance.
After a few moments, she felt someone step up beside her.
“Please tell me you are here alone. It would be my greatest pleasure to offer my escort.”
Emma stiffened, resisting the urge to reach up to ensure her mask was firmly in place. She had arranged her hair to incorporate the silk tails of the mask, so the material wound through her coiffure. She thought it a clever way to ensure the thing would stay safely put.
Turning her head just slightly, she glanced aside at the gentleman. He was just under average in height, with dark hair peeking beneath the edge of his top hat. She felt a moment of recognition, though with his mask covering most of his face, she gratefully could not identify him.
Shoving aside her internal awkwardness, she reminded herself she was supposed to be a woman of worldly experience. Smiling, she replied smoothly, “I am alone, but I assure you it is entirely by choice.”