Page 19 of A Rogue's Most Sinful Disguise

“Did you say you needed a fourth for whist?” she asked. She knew the game well, for Victor had taught her to play many years ago.

“Indeed, we do,” a tall gentleman said from across the table, with a handlebar white moustache and a cravat that was so fluffed up, it almost covered his mouth. “Take a seat there. Who is it we are to play with tonight then, if I may have the pleasure of your name?”

“Mr Blake,” Violette said, trying to hold back her smile. In the dim candlelight of the room, no one seemed to notice her feminine features, or if they did, they didn’t look too long regardless.

“Excellent,” the moustached man said. “I am Mr Grey, this is Mr Kelvey, and your man to your right here, is Lord O’Reilly. Now, let’s get down to business, but I warn you, Mr Blake. We play fast and with skill here. You’ll have to keep up.”

“I promise to pay attention,” she said with a smile, delighted when they dealt the cards out.

Her delight did not last too long. She won the first few rounds well enough, but soon Mr Grey seemed to be producing high cards out of nowhere and won each round easily. She finished the night with rather less money than she had started with.

“I think I’ll retire for the night, thank you,” she said, nodding her head to the three men as she stood to her feet.

“Come back tomorrow if you will,” Mr Grey said, calling after her. “I do so like taking a young man’s money.”

The words made her bristle as she walked off to her room, realising that though there was a lot to like about being a man, there were some things that were not always so nice.

***

“What am I going to do for money?” Violette muttered to herself as she wandered the streets of Covent Garden. Last night she had learned an important lesson: do not gamble with too much confidence. Though she still had plenty of money left to see her through for some time, it made the prospect of finding a way to increase her cash all the more prevalent on her mind. “I’ll have to do something.”

Unable to shed the thought, she turned down a new street in Covent Garden, trying to admire the scenery, though her thoughts were much more on her problem at hand. Because of it, it took a minute for her to realise that she had walked off the main piazza and away from the key roads, into a narrow back street. She paused, and looked about herself, seeing further down the road there were some rougher looking gentlemen, whose heads lifted in her direction.

The rags on their clothes and the dirt on their skin showed her that they were homeless, and the way their gazes lingered on her told her that they thought her an easy target.

She backed up a little, increasing the distance between them as she looked down at the clothes upon her body. They announced she had wealth, and her slim athletic stature also suggested she would not be able to handle herself in a fight.

When one of the men stepped out from the others, walking toward her with clear intention in his gait, she turned and walked back the way she had come from. She walked at first, figuring it was best not to run, but when she heard his footsteps pick up the pace, she glanced back to see he was running, and she sprinted off too.

She only took a few steps away when she felt his hand reach out for her.

“Let go of me!” she called loudly, forgetting to disguise her voice in the heat of the moment. The man pulled back his fist, aiming straight for her. Violette didn’t know much about fighting, but Victor had showed her well enough how to dodge a blow. She ducked, making the man wobble on his feet from the sheer momentum of his swing that never landed in a punch.

She turned to try and run again but he caught her around the waist and toppled her to the ground. She let out a scream she knew was far too feminine the moment it left her lips.

The man rolled her over, grabbing some of the money from her pockets before his eyes settled on her face and he frowned. She knew at once that expression. Her scream and the way that she was pinned beneath him revealed who she really was, a woman.

“Get off him!” a voice bellowed. It was so sudden that her attacker did not have a chance to prepare himself.

A rather skinny looking lad had appeared out of nowhere and swung a plank toward the assailant. It hit the man square on the jaw, forcing him backwards. He dropped the money to the ground and Violette scrambled to collect all her money, pushing it back in her pockets again as she watched on.

The skinny lad forced the other man away, shouting after him.

“Yes, run away, like a dog caught chasing a fox. Go fast now! Before I catch up with you!” Despite his words, he let the man go before he turned back to face Violette.

She was still on her knees, clutching to her pockets, when she felt the first tears running down her cheeks, overwhelmed with how close she had come to God knows what!

“Wait…” the skinny lad took a few steps forward and crouched down to her height. “You’re no man. What’s a girl doing dressed like a man in these parts?”

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