Luck Is No Lady(75)

The man gave her a crooked smile she suspected was supposed to be charming. Considering his gaze dropped to her bosom at the same time, it came off as more lecherous than he may have intended.

“A woman of your beauty surely appreciates the value of a worthy companion.” His voice lowered suggestively. “I promise you would enjoy my company.”

“That may be true, but I am not here tonight for companionship.” She nodded toward the table. “I have come to play.”

The gentleman’s eyes lit up and his grin widened. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” He brazenly placed his hand at her back and raised his voice jovially to the crowd around the table. “Make way, please. We have a lovely new player.”

Emma ignored the twinge of discomfort at suddenly becoming the focus of everyone in the near vicinity. But at least she had discovered how to join the fray.



Roderick stood at the center of the balcony, overlooking the gaming room. He hadn’t gone down yet, though guests had been arriving for hours already. It was proving to be a grand crush. Carriages still lined the streets outside as people vied to get through the doors. The scene below was a swirling mass of brightly colored waistcoats and flashy gowns. The dining room and three drawing rooms were also filled nearly to overflowing. Thank God for Clarice’s excellent planning. He had no doubt there would be plenty of champagne and refreshments to last until dawn.

Tonight’s celebration was to honor the opening of Bentley’s five years ago, and as Roderick perused the evidence of his club’s success, he felt a surge of accomplishment. He had done exactly what he had set out to do. He not only owned one of the most eminent gambling houses in London, but his personal wealth had multiplied over the years through lucrative business investments. He owned winning thoroughbreds, a part in shipping ventures that serviced the globe, railways expanding across the Americas, and mining expeditions. Most poignantly, he had created a home here at the club, where he was surrounded by people he trusted and respected. It was the closest thing to family he had had since his mother.

Aside from the blemish of Goodwin’s betrayal, which had now been proven by Emma’s astute review of the accounts, he felt infinitely blessed.

There was much to appreciate, but it did not escape his notice that he was reluctant to join in the celebration of his success. He preferred to remain on the balcony where he could observe rather than participate in the crowd below, and he wasn’t clear as to why. The small kernel of dissatisfaction lodged at the base of his brain perturbed him.

Resting his elbows on the polished balcony rail, he allowed his gaze to soften. The ebb and flow of the guests’ movements below took on the appearance of a single living organism. The gaming room was imbued with a special energy tonight. He could feel it, even distanced from it as he was.

Marcus Lowth sat at one of the gaming tables and glanced up, catching Roderick’s eye. He gave a subtle nod before turning back to his game. Roderick experienced a rush of confidence that he had made the right decision in deciding to help the young man.

After several more minutes of casual observation, a ripple of disquiet traveled along his spine. He stiffened and scanned the crowd with more purpose, trying to detect what felt off.

A large portion of the room was focused intently on the faro table. Many of those not close enough to view the action directly moved around it, vying for a glimpse. Others remained at their play, but craned their necks to see what was drawing so much attention.

Roderick looked for Metcalf and saw the manager standing stalwart and observant off one corner of the table. Metcalf’s two assistants, dressed as footmen, moved unobtrusively about the room. It was their job to ensure no one at the other tables took advantage of the distraction to attempt a sleight of hand.

Confident Metcalf had the situation in hand, Roderick turned his focus back to the center of the disturbance and noticed all eyes were focused on one faro player in particular.

A woman.

Roderick straightened at the railing as a frisson of physical awareness shot through him, making his palms tingle.

His view of the player was slightly obscured by the crowd crushing around her, but he was able to see a striking turquoise gown encasing a modestly curvaceous figure. The woman wore no jewelry and her bare shoulders and slender arms gleamed like porcelain under the light of the chandeliers. Her only adornment was a leather mask covering the upper portion of her face. The tails of the mask were wound through a mass of golden hair twisted intricately atop her head.

She was gorgeous. Her every movement at the table was a perfect study of grace and confidence. She did not bother with coy glances or flirtatious gestures. Her intent was to play and that, perhaps as much as her beauty, was enough to rouse the interest of the gentlemen surrounding her.