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Emma paced her bedroom the next evening, glancing at the clock every time she walked by it. Where was Susan? It was after seven. She should have been here by now. Without her friend, Emma couldn’t go to the gaming hell tonight. The entire plan hinged on Susan arriving tonight with her brother’s clothing. Emma’s nerves hummed as she continued to cross the room.
After the billiard game with Kingsley last night, she wanted to best him. Not that he would know she entered Hell until a few days from now when she would inform him of the feat. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone what she was doing tonight, but after seeing his superiority at the billiard game, which he wasn’t about to win, she’d had enough of his arrogance.
“Miss Drake, Miss Lancaster has arrived,” a maid said after rapping on the door.
Thank God! “Thank you. Please ask her to come up to my bedchamber. And please ask Davis to order a hackney.”
“Of course, miss.”
Emma tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Susan’s arrival. What was taking her so long to walk up a flight of steps? Finally, the door opened, and Susan entered the room with a hesitant smile.
“Good evening, Emma.” She walked into the room with a slight frown.
“Are you as excited as I?”
“Not particularly,” Susan said, pacing the room. “I’m very nervous about what we are to do tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because while you will be in disguise, I will not.” Susan plopped down on the bed with a sigh. “My mother will be very displeased that I went to a gaming hell.”
Emma wanted to shake her friend. “You didn’t wish to wear men’s clothing.”
“I know,” she cried.
“Many ladies of the ton attend the gaming hells.” Emma realized Susan was near to backing out of their plan. She had to devise a solution that would appease her friend. “You can wear a mask. Then no one will know it’s you.”
Susan looked up at her with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that? A mask is a perfect idea.”
Emma opened her linen press and found a domino mask she’d worn to a ball last year. “Here, this will be perfect and cover enough of your face to hide your identity.”
Susan seized the mask and held it up to her face in front of the mirror. “Emma, this is perfect. I feel so much better.”
A light scratch turned her head toward the door. “Yes?”
“Miss Drake, your hackney is waiting,” a footman replied.
“Thank you. We will be down presently.”
They quickly made their way to the awaiting coach. As the hackney pulled away, Emma said, “Please help me dress quickly.”
Susan removed Emma’s dress, stays, and shift before helping her into the trousers. She pulled out linen strips.
“What are those for?” Emma asked with a note of unease.
“Your breasts. I noticed yesterday that your rather ample bosom was causing you to look less like a boy. We need to bind your breasts, so they don’t create too much of a bump in your clothing.” Susan rummaged through the valise and then pulled out the linen shirt. She wrapped the strips of cloth around Emma’s breasts to flatten them down.
“Does it hurt?” Susan asked after tucking the end of the linen under the binding.
“A little.”
“It’s only for a few hours.” The carriage hit a rut as Susan pulled out the waistcoat and jacket, causing them both steady themselves. She bumped into Emma with a curse.
“Susan! I have never heard you curse before.”
“Brothers,” she replied with a smile. She helped Emma into the waistcoat and jacket. “It’s still not perfect since you have much more there than I do. But the bindings will help.”
Susan placed a hat on Emma’s head and smiled. “Other than your height and figure, you should look the part.”
“I wish I could see how it turned out.”
“We mustn’t get caught, Emma. If we see anyone we know, we should leave immediately.”
The idea of being caught added to the excitement of the evening. “Only if they appear to recognize us. We will both be disguised.”
Susan only sighed as they stopped in front of Hell. Emma opened the door and then jumped down. She glanced up at the façade of the building. Only a scoundrel like Kingsley would create a gaming hell in an old church. She gave Susan a hand to help her down.
“Is this it?” Susan asked. “I rather expected to see all sorts of men outside and maybe even a few lightskirts standing about.”
Emma laughed. “We may have passed by this place a hundred times without even realizing what the building housed.”
“Let’s go inside.” Susan pulled Emma up the steps and then stopped. “Do we knock or just enter?”
“We must knock and let them know who we are.”
“Who we are?” Susan parroted.
“I can’t be Emma Drake dressed like I am. I shall be Edmond Tavers, and you are my guest, Miss Yardly.” Emma laughed at her friend’s surprised expression.
The large wood door opened, revealing a giant of a man with brown hair and shoulders that almost filled the doorway. “Cards, please.”
She should have expected this. All gentleman had cards at the ready. “I do believe we have forgotten them this evening.
The man stared down at them for a moment. “Who are you?”
Emma gave him their names and the three pounds to get in. The man checked a list and then moved away, allowing them entrance to what must have been the vestibule of the church.
“First time?” the man asked, staring at Emma.
“Yes,” she replied in her lowest voice.
“Through the wood doors. Hat on the table when you enter.”
“I beg your pardon?” Emma questioned, almost forgetting to lower her voice.
“New policy. All,” he paused, lips twitching, “men are required to remove their hats.”
Emma nodded, thankful that the man was now preoccupied with two men who sought entrance. She clasped Susan’s arm and led her toward the doors.
“You cannot take off your hat,” Susan whispered.
“I know.” Why hadn’t either of them thought about the fact that hats were always removed? Apprehension twitched down her spine. They could not back down now. “I can only hope no one mentions anything about it once we are inside the gaming room.”
Emma opened the ornately carved wood door, and they entered the sizeable raucous room. Stained glass windows displaying the holy family and angels watched over the gamblers who sold their souls to win some money. Where the altar must have been situated, now held a long table for cards. A few other gaming tables surrounded the room, with dice and card games and one for table roulette.
Suddenly Susan gasped and clutched Emma’s arm. “We need to leave right now,” she whispered in a nervous voice.
“What is wrong?” Emma hadn’t even spied Kingsley yet. Then she remembered he watched the floor from his office. He would never be able to identify her from there.
“My brother is here!”
“He will never notice you in that mask,” Emma replied calmly.
“Yes, he will. He always comments on how much he likes this gown on me, Emma.”
“Edmond, not Emma,” she whispered back. “And with all these people, he will never notice you.”
Except, as soon as she’d said those words, Gavin Lancaster rose from his seat and turned toward them. Susan observed him and abruptly left, racing out the double doors. Emma strode after her friend, who had gained quite a lead on her. By the time she reached the front door, Susan had already climbed into a hackney. Emma watched as they drove off.
“Too much excitement for your friend?” the man at the door asked.
“Yes, she happened to notice her husband and ran off before being caught with me.”
The man laughed coarsely. “Of course. Don’t forget to remove your hat when you go back inside.”
She nodded as Susan’s carriage drove down the street. Emma could either do the same and run away or turn around and have some amusement tonight. Gavin Lancaster was a test. If she could stroll past him without gaining his notice, then she would remain. Susan’s brother strode past with barely a glance at Emma.
There was no turning back now.
She entered the gaming room again. She’d come to gamble, and that’s what she intended to do tonight. Moving to a roulette table, she pulled out her money and placed her first bet.
“Can I get you a drink, young man?”
Emma looked over at the woman and barely caught herself from gasping. The same woman she’d seen on Kingsley’s lap nearly a year ago when Emma had come here with Louisa, who was looking for Harry. Only the woman had not just been sitting on his lap. The image of that woman with her dress down and her bountiful breasts displayed for him had burned into Emma’s mind. The woman had been sliding up and down on the man’s....
Oh, she couldn’t even think about it.
“Whisky,” Emma said in a low voice.
“Of course, sir,” the woman said with a sensual smile. “Don’t forget to put your hat on the table.”
“I don’t want to lose it,” Emma replied.
“Melissa is watching the table. Nothing will happen to it. Would you like me to take it over there for you?”
“No,” Emma said in a harsh tone. “Just get my drink.”
The woman pursed her lips. “As you wish.”
The croupier behind the table announced that her number won. She smiled and decided to play again.
#
SIMON HAD JUST FINISHED his business letters when Riley entered the office. The man scowled down at Simon.
“There’s a young man who has refused to remove his hat,” Riley said. “I was going to confront him but thought you might want the pleasure.”
Simon rose and walked to the window overlooking the gaming room. He spotted the fellow immediately, noting the amount of money in front of him and the man’s diminutive size. “How much has he won?”
“He’s been here for about an hour and has already won thirty pounds.”
“It’s damned hard to cheat at roulette, Riley.” Still, the man, if Simon could call him that, barely looked old enough to be out of leading strings.
“That’s why I waited to inform you.”
“Perhaps he only intended to play a game or two but kept winning. Or maybe he’s losing his hair already and doesn’t want to take off his hat.” Simon grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “I think I’ll watch the floor tonight. What’s the man drinking?”
“Whisky.”
Simon walked down to the gaming room and grabbed two glasses of whisky before approaching Meg. “Give this to the man with the hat at the roulette table.”
“That arse? He refused to remove his hat.”
“Tell him the drink is from me.”
“That will be his fourth.”
Simon smiled. “Good.”
If he worked for the ruffians from Seven Dials, more alcohol might loosen the boy’s tongue. Simon stared at the young man who kept his head down, and his eyes on the wheel. He looked even younger than the last lad he’d tossed out of Hell. But this man’s clothes were in much better quality than Smith’s had been, albeit a wrinkled mess. This man looked like rumpled quality, not a poor thief.
He appeared to have lost that spin but quickly placed two bets on the table. With the next turn, he won again. Simon might have suspected his employee was up to something, but Talbot had been with him for over three years. The young man briefly looked up with a sneer as Meg delivered the drink. How odd. Meg could entice any man to do as she desired. She even had him for one enjoyable encounter that had been all too quickly interrupted by Louisa and Emma.
That was who the man reminded him of, which made no sense at all. Simon could see only hints of blond hair under that cap. Now he was thinking of Emma while watching a man. There was something dreadfully wrong with him. Except, as the man accepted the drink, he slid a glance over at Simon.
Bloody hell!
How the devil had she gotten out of the house wearing those clothes? Why was her mother unwilling to rein in her daughter? He gulped down his whisky while trying to decide the best course of action. He walked over to Hood and asked for his carriage to be ready and waiting at the back door.
“Something amiss, King?” Riley asked after hearing him order his carriage.
“Let just say, I know exactly why a certain gentleman refused to remove his hat.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
Simon smiled as he planned his attack. “She wouldn’t wish to reveal her hair.”
“She?”
“Yes, and this goes no further. I will get her out of here, but I doubt she’ll go quietly. It’s up to you to distract everyone with a drink if she reveals herself.”
Riley tilted his head and quirked a brow. “Reveals herself?”
“Her hair, you bastard. Nothing else will be exposed.”
Riley laughed. “Now that is a shame. Will you let me know who she is?”
“The Duchess’ sister.”
“Bloody hell,” Riley muttered, glancing over at her. “The Duchess is going to kill you.”
“Which is why Miss Drake will be delivered to the duchess in person so she can see how foxed her sister is.” Simon still could not believe Emma Drake was in his gaming hell. Hadn’t he wished she would make an appearance here only yesterday? Not that he’d wanted her dressed as a boy.
He waited until Hood returned with a nod letting him know the carriage was ready before slowly approaching her.
“Good evening, young man,” Simon said, noting that she’d already sipped half of her fourth whisky down. The poor girl would regret that decision in the morning.
“Evening, sir.”
Simon almost laughed at her husky voice, except his anger at her actions stopped him. “I do believe you were told to remove your hat.”
“Why’d I need to do that?” she mumbled.
“It’s my policy.”
“It’s a senseless policy. I like my hat on my head.” She drank another sip of her whisky.
“Hat off.”
“No.”
“It appears we may have another cheater, Riley,” Simon said in a loud enough voice that most people could hear.
Miss Drake stumbled out of her seat, almost falling to the floor. “I’m no cheater!”
Before she could move, he hefted her over his shoulder, all the while praying Emma would have enough sense to hold her hat on her head. “Cheaters will not be tolerated in Hell.”
“Let me go! I’m not a cheater.”
A small fist hammered at his back. He glanced down and didn’t see the hat or hear anyone gasping at her. Only low chuckles from the customers followed him. He strode down the hall with her until he reached the carriage where he dumped her inside.
She scrambled up to a seat, still clutching her hat to head.
Simon entered the carriage and then took the seat across from her. “I do not tolerate cheats in my gaming hell.”
She laughed and, in her drunken state, forgot to lower her vocal range. “I have never cheated.”
“Of course not, that is what all the cheaters say.”
“Why are you in the carriage with me?”
“I personally take care of all the cheaters who dare enter Hell,” Simon said in what he hoped sounded like an ominous tone.
“Are you going to kill me?” she whispered, her blue eyes wide.
“Perhaps.” He tried not to smile as her face drew grim, and then a slow smile brightened her face.
“You don’t wanna do that,” she mumbled, staring at his lips. “You wanna kiss me.”
Simon stared over at her in disbelief. He knew the alcohol caused her to say such foolishness but still.... “No, I don’t kiss boys.”
“I know you wanna kiss this boy.” She leaned forward, pressing her arms to her sides as if to produce more cleavage. She glanced down as if realizing her clothing did not expose any amount of flesh to him. A frown of confusion lined her face.
“And I don’t kiss innocents either.”
She leaned back with a pout. “No one wants to kiss me,” she said under her breath before leaning back with a pout.
She couldn’t possibly believe that. If she were anyone else, Simon would have laid her back against the velvet squabs and enjoyed every inch of her.
“At least I can scratch off numbers two and three tonight. I think I can. Am I foxed?”
“Oh, you are definitely foxed,” he remarked, wondering what she’d meant by scratching off two and three.
“Good.” She giggled. “I wasn’t certain.”
“What was number two?”
“I can’t tell you that,” she said with a flirtatious smile. “No one can know.”
Damn. So much for the loose-lipped drunk. “Why not?”
“’cause it’s a secret. Only Susan knows.”
Susan must be Miss Lancaster. The same woman Emma had talked to the night of Lady Leicester’s ball.
“To whom do you owe money?” he asked, again believing she must be in debt to someone if she attempted to steal and gamble.
“I don’t owe anyone...and what happened to my winnings?” She looked around the carriage. “Did you steal my money?”
“No. I will see that your winnings are returned to you.”
She giggled. “You don’t even know who I am, so how will you return them?”
Simon shook his head, trying not to find the sight of the perfect Miss Emma Drake, well and completely foxed, so damned amusing. “I will figure it out.”
“Are you going to seduce me?” she asked in a hopeful voice. “I’ll bet you are. It’s what you do. I still remember the day you were making love to that wench in the gaming hell.”
Wench? If Meg had heard that statement, Emma would never have made it out of Hell. “I wasn’t making love to her.”
“Looked like it to me.” She put her hands out as if to steady herself and blinked hard. “What were you doing then?”
“Fucking,” he said to shock her.
“Fucking?” she repeated slowly with a tilt of her head. “That doesn’t sound at all nice. Making love sounds nice.”
And now all he could think of was making love to Emma Drake. Taking off each piece of boy’s clothing, revealing warm, soft skin that would taste sweet like sugar. His damned cock thickened with the idea.
“That is not a word a lady should use,” he reminded her.
“Why not? And I’m not a lady. I’m a man.”
“Of course you are. And ladies don’t say it because it’s vulgar.” What was taking so long? They should have arrived by now. He wouldn’t be able to handle much more of being stuck in a carriage alone with her. If he did kiss her, she probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.
Bloody hell, he couldn’t do that. Not with her.
“I think I wanna be vulgar,” she commented as her head swayed with the carriage.
“No, you do not want to be vulgar.” Thankfully, the carriage slowed to a stop. “You can only be vulgar with your husband, if he allows it.”
“That’s not fair. Men are always vulgar, and I’m a man.”
Dear God, save him from drunken ladies. “Let your husband decide.”
“Where are we? Your home?”
“No, I lived at Hell.”
“That’s rather sad,” she said as he opened the door. “I suppose you cannot afford to live elsewhere.”
He shook his head. “Can you walk up the steps?”
“Of course, I can. I’m not drunk.”
He laughed as he gave her a hand to help her down. She took two steps forward, but he caught her before she stumbled. “Of course, you’re not drunk,” he said, swinging her up into his arms.
“See,” she whispered near his ear. “I knew you wanted to kiss me.”
“I’m not kissing you, Miss Drake.”
“I’m not Miss Drake. I’m Edmond Ta—Ta...something.”
“All right, Edmond, we are here.” He adjusted her in his arms and rapped loudly on his brother’s door until a footman opened the door a crack. “Open the bloody door, John. It’s Kingsley.”
John moved quickly, getting out of Simon’s way. “Sir, why have you brought a man here at this hour?”
“Go get the duchess.”
“Is he hurt?” John asked with concern.
Emma giggled.
“Go,” Simon demanded as he dropped her on the sofa.
“Wee! That was fun. I was flying.”
He needed a drink. He walked to the small table in the corner and poured a snifter of brandy.
“I want some too,” Emma said as she attempted to sit up. “Where are we? I think I’ve been here before. Is this where you live?”
“I already told you I don’t live here.”
“Simon, what the bloody hell is going on?” Harry demanded as he and Louisa entered the room.
“Damn you, Kingsley. Why did you bring me here? I don’t wanna be here. I want you to kiss me.” Emma struggled to stand, but Louisa helped her back down.
“Simon, why is Emma dressed as a drunk boy?” Louisa asked, concern lining her voice.
“I am a boy,” Emma said with a giggle before adding in a low voice, “Edmond something or other.”
Harry called for tea before pouring a brandy for him and his wife. “You want to kiss her?”
“No, she is drunk.” Simon took a seat and sipped his brandy. “She entered Hell this evening and started drinking and playing roulette.”
“Roulette?” Louisa said, shaking her head. “That game has terrible odds.”
“Yes, except for your sister, who won over thirty pounds tonight,” Simon replied.
“I’m Edmond,” Emma said with a giggle again. “Call me Eddie.”
“Very well, Eddie,” Louisa said as she tried to help Emma to stand. “Let’s find you a nice bed to sleep this off.” She looked over at Simon. “How much did she drink?”
“Four glasses of whisky.” Simon almost felt sorry for her. Tomorrow she would repent with a dreadful headache.
“Thank you for bringing her here, Simon,” Louisa added, leading Emma across the room. “Harry, send word to my mother that Emma has a headache and is staying the night.”
“Of course, darling.”
Once the ladies had left the room, Harry sat down in quiet contemplation. After a few moments, he asked, “What is wrong with her lately?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Simon sipped his brandy.
“Do you know that there is a rumor on the gossips' tongues that she introduced herself to Simpson?” Harry drank his brandy down in a gulp.
Simon finished his drink and then walked over to the table and snagged the bottle. After refilling their snifters, he said, “I saw her do it, Harry.”
“Damnation,” he muttered.
Simon wondered if he should mention the attempt at pilfering Lady Huntley’s silver. But that might call attention to his involvement, and he wanted no reminders of that episode.
“She’s starting to remind me of my wife.”
“Well, that can’t be good.” Simon chuckled. “I can’t imagine the ton’s reaction to two of them.”
“Two of whom?” Louisa asked as she entered the room. She snatched a snifter and then poured herself some brandy.
“Two of you, darling,” Harry answered. “I said Emma’s recent behavior was so unlike her.”
“And more like me?” she asked indignantly.
Harry and Simon stared back at her.
“I realized that, too,” Louisa admitted unabashedly. “It’s not like her. I do think she has taken Bolton’s rejection harder than she wants to admit.”
“Still, should she wish to marry, she needs to keep her reputation intact,” Harry commented before sipping his brandy.
Louisa’s blue eyes widened. “Do you think she no longer wants to marry?”
Harry waved his hand at her. “Of course she wishes to marry. She has always wanted a titled gentleman.”
“But this is so unlike her. She’s always been so careful of her reputation and what others think of her. An example to other ladies,” Louisa said, staring at her hands.
“And you the example of what not to do,” Simon said with a laugh.
“Hush, Simon. This is serious. Besides, I got exactly what I wanted,” she said with a pointed look at her husband.
“How did you get her changed and in bed so quickly?” Harry asked, changing the subject.
Louisa shook her head with a smile. “The poor dear fell asleep before I could even get her a night rail.”
“Hmm, I remember another Drake sister who drank too much and wanted to kiss me,” Harry said with a smile.
Simon loved the way they looked at each other as if no one else was in the room. But not now when they had important things to discuss. “I am here, you two.”
“Of course you are, Simon. You’re just not as handsome as my husband, or I’d be looking at you.”
Harry looked over at him. “Perhaps you need to find a woman like Louisa to marry, Simon.”
“There are no women like your wife, Harry. And thank God for that.”
“Simon!” Louisa exclaimed with a laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Back to the problem at hand. What are we to do with your sister?” Simon asked before picking up his snifter of brandy. “Something needs to be done before she completely ruins herself.”
“We? Simon, thank you for your concern, but this is our problem, not yours.” Louisa shook her head. “I wish I knew what she was about. Our mother is of no help being too concerned with keeping Lord Hammond enticed.”
“Your sister said that she could scratch off numbers two and three. Does that mean anything to you, Duchess?” Simon asked.
Louisa shrugged with a frown. “Not at all. But I will endeavor to find out tomorrow when she awakens.”
Simon rose, reluctant to leave the comfortable atmosphere, but knew he should let them get some sleep. “I should take my leave now.”
“Thank you again for bringing her here and not home,” Louisa said softly.
“Get your sister under control before she does something that ruins you all,” Simon replied.
Harry laughed. “There is no getting a Drake sister under control, Simon. They always do as they wish.”