To alleviate some of the tension riding him, he took a twisted sort of pleasure in casting discouraging—and sometimes downright threatening—looks at any man who appeared inclined toward taking his chances at usurping Roderick’s right as escort.
At one point, the crush of people around them shifted, pushing at them from behind. He automatically squared his shoulders around her and placed his hand on the curve of her hip to draw her in to him and protect her from the jostling crowd. When the press eased again, she did not pull away, and he could not bring himself to remove his hand after feeling the warmth of her satin-clad body.
Emma hit twenty-one yet again, and a shout went up around them. She glanced at Roderick, her eyes shining with triumph and a secret sort of challenge.
A warning bell went off in his head and he narrowed his gaze.
Something in her expression had him wondering. It was there in the way her mouth fought against curling up at the corners and her lashes swept low across her gaze when she turned back to the table.
Could she be cheating?
He angled his attention over her shoulder, keeping a vigilant eye on the cards being dealt, observing Emma and the other players.
If she was counting cards, she was exceptionally good at it. He noted no disproportionate concentration in her features, no hesitation in her calls. Her play was as smooth and efficient as he had come to expect over the last few hours. Yet, he couldn’t shake the sense that she was claiming some unfair advantage.
She won again, and Roderick allowed a smile to curve his lips.
His vingt-et-un dealer was as good as they came. If the man couldn’t detect anything untoward in Emma’s luck, Roderick wasn’t going to interfere.
As she gathered her winnings, he suddenly felt her stiffen. Her focus was directed intently on the crowd to their left. Even before he turned to look, Roderick heard a wheezing bellow of laughter and knew what distressed her.
Lord Marwood was making his way through the crush to the table, his peacock-feather-patterned waistcoat leading the way over his rotund belly. If any of the gentlemen present tonight managed to recognize Emma despite her mask, it would be this man.
She had obviously considered the same thing. He felt the panic roll through her body as she tried to angle herself away from Marwood’s line of sight.
But the seasoned skirt-chaser had a sort of sixth sense as he reached the table and leaned forward to catch Roderick’s eye.
“Who is the lovely lady there, Bentley? I heard you have got a prize you are not sharing tonight.” His slurred words were followed by more breathy guffaws.
“Marwood,” Roderick answered smoothly, “there are more than enough prizes to win this evening, I assure you.”
Roderick kept his hand at Emma’s hip as she turned in place, putting her back to Marwood. It brought her more fully into the circle of his embrace. As she lifted her chin to meet his eyes, he was claimed by an unexpected flash of possession. He tightened his arm more securely around her waist and drew her in to his chest.
Desire leaped through his blood when he saw her lips part on a swiftly drawn breath.
“Shall we move along?” He had to swallow hard when he saw her eyes darken with mysterious feminine shadows.
“A wonderful idea,” she replied in a low whisper.
Roderick turned them both from the table as Marwood called out again, “Bentley, you cannot keep such delicious morsels to yourself. It is only polite to share with your guests.”
Ignoring the man’s comment altogether, Roderick caught the attention of one of Mrs. Beaumont’s girls and issued a subtle gesture toward the drunken lord. She gave a short nod then widened her mouth into a generous smile as she swept gracefully toward Marwood.
Roderick asked, “Where to next?”
“Anywhere I can remove this mask would be heavenly. I think I have had enough gambling for tonight.”
“Would you like to go upstairs?”
“That sounds perfect,” she replied with a smile.
He led her from the gaming room through the small door in the corner that led up to the balcony. Once through the door, they ascended a narrow spiral staircase. Neither of them spoke while they made their way to the business level of the club, but the entire way, Roderick maintained some sort of physical contact: his hand at her back, a light touch at her elbow. He couldn’t help himself. The need to connect with her, to feel her, was as necessary as breathing.
The walk up to his sitting room was infinitely more torturous than anything he had experienced in the gaming room. Then, at least, there had been the distraction of the crowd and their focus on the games. But as they continued on to his private apartments, the dim lighting of the upper floors cast everything in an intimate glow. As they progressed farther from the public rooms below, the noise of the party eased to a steady hum that was easily overcome by the tantalizing sound of her satin skirts sliding against her legs and the thud of his pulse in his ears.