Page 11 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
“My apologies. I’ve met up with our new friend, Smitty.” He indicated Miss Parnell, who’d twisted her mouth into that nearly lipless expression he’d encouraged.
“Evening, Smitty,” Charles said. He looked at Andrew. “Where are you headed?”
Damn. Andrew didn’t want them joining him and Miss Parnell. He couldn’t chance any of them finding her out, which meant he had to limit her exposure. “Just wandering about, considering our options. We were at Fenwick’s. Excellent game there tonight.”
Charles’s eyes lit. “Indeed? Perhaps that’s where we should go.” He glanced at the others.
Miss Parnell coughed. “Capital faro table. I made an excellent haul.” She did that low, gravelly voice that was disturbingly seductive.
“Then it’s settled,” Charles said. “Mayhap we’ll catch up with you later.”
Andrew nodded, relieved that they would not be banding together. “We’ll keep an eye out.”
They parted ways, and Andrew led her across St. James’s to Cleveland Row.
“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t want them to join us.”
“I didn’t either.” He peered down at her as they neared the hell. “See, Idohave your best interests in mind.”
She gave him a look that said she was still deciding. He shook his head, marveling at her obstinacy. They climbed the steps of the next hell, and again Andrew was greeted by the massive footman, who was just as capable of tossing one from the premises as inviting one inside. “Evening, your lordship. You have a guest this evening?” The footman’s eye glinted as he studied Miss Parnell closely. Too closely.
Andrew resisted the urge to lay a calming hand against the small of her back. “I do. This is Mr. Davis Smith,” he said smoothly. “We’re here to play upstairs.” That was code for the private whist game.
“Ye’re always welcome, my lord.” The footman glanced over his shoulder, then nodded subtly. Some sort of communication with someone out of sight had just occurred. “Come in, come in.” He inclined his head toward Miss Parnell to include her too.
She’d retained a calm demeanor through the exchange, not a hint of discomfort. Again, he was impressed with her.
“Ye know where to go,” the footman said.
Andrew did. “Thank you.” He looked around the hall, but it was empty. Whomever the footman had exchanged looks with was now gone. Andrew surmised it was the owner of the hell—Mr. Jessup. He ran a mostly fair game but was known for a ruthless streak with those who somehow offended him, usually without them realizing what they’d done. While the whist game wasn’t dealt by an employee, a banker managed all wagers and kept a percentage to account for Jessup’s expenses.
Andrew led Miss Parnell up the stairs. “Remember to stay in character. This room may contain people you’ve met before, depending on who’s here tonight.”
Her eyes glinted with alarm. “Do you think someone will recognize me?”
“Doubtful. Just do your part to ensure they don’t. I’ll do mine to attract most of the attention.”
She chuckled softly. “I’m certain you excel at that.”
He laughed in return. “Quite. Perhaps now you’ll admit it was a good idea for me to accompany you.”
She gave him a suffering glance, but the amused glint in her eyes said she was glad, and that made him glad too. “Yes. Now, may we play?”
He stopped himself from offering her his arm. “Let’s.”
As he guided her toward the whist parlor, he hoped he wasn’t leading them both into the lion’s den.
Chapter Three
For the first time in her life, Lucy was content to allow a gentleman to do all the talking for her. Grandmama would be so impressed. No, she’d be stunned.Thenshe’d be impressed.
Poor Grandmama. Lucy felt a trifle bad about sneaking out, but it wasn’t as if she had somewhere else to be. Their invitations weren’t many, and Grandmama was slowing down. She preferred to stay at home most nights and went to bed early. That was the main reason Lucy was determined to retire with her. A maid of all work would care for Grandmama’s cottage, but she wouldn’t ensure Grandmama took care of herself, nor would she read to her or share memories that would make Grandmama smile.
Yes, Lucy was doing this for herself, but she was doing it just as much for Grandmama, if not more.
Lucy peered at Dartford across the table. They were halfway through the first hand, and he was a very good player. But then she’d expected nothing else. The Duke of Daring seemed to excel atmostthings.
She glanced at the other two gentlemen, both of whom she’d never met before, thank goodness. Even if she had, it was unlikely they’d recognize her. Still, Lucy kept her head down and contributed just enough to the discussion so as not to seem rude. Dartford kept his word and carried the conversational burden, not that it was great. It seemed the other men preferred to concentrate on their cards for the most part.
