Chapter Four

“Good morning, Brooks. I plan to go shopping, and I’ll need Alice,” Ellie said as she stepped into the vestibule and spotted Brooks the following morning.

Her brother’s longtime friend was an invaluable part of the casino. He roamed the floor each evening and worked many tasks, from guarding the door to overseeing the croupiers to announcing the boxing matches in the boxing room. He was also the largest man Ellie had ever seen and had a chest the size of a small armoire. If she won the club, he would oversee the casino floor while she worked above in the office. With his help, she needn’t don her mask and visit the casino floor every night.

“Of course. I’ll send for Alice at once.” Brooks’s broad shoulders disappeared around the corner.

Moments later, Alice appeared. A tall, thin-boned woman in her early fifties, she smiled when she saw Ellie. “Where to today, miss?”

“I require items for the women’s gaming room.” Ellie needed not only furnishings and curtains for the main room, but also items for the secret hidden room, specifically a bed.

“I’ll fetch my cloak.” Alice hurried off.

Alice had served as a ladies’ maid in a wealthy man’s home until her employer had begun pursuing her. When Alice refused his advances, he sent her packing without a reference. After Ian heard her story, he immediately hired her to work at the Raven. It wasn’t uncommon. Grace and Ian often used the club for good. Ellie preferred Alice because she was discreet and never raised an eyebrow about Ellie’s unconventional activities.

Ellie was in the process of pulling on her gloves when the distinct sound of boot heels on the marble vestibule made her turn as Hugh approached. “Where are you going?”

She frowned. “Must you question my every movement?”

“Invisible rope, remember?”

How can I forget?

She tapped her foot impatiently. “I plan on visiting the drapers. If you wish to accompany me, then by all means, who am I to refuse such masculine companionship?”

His only reaction was a twitch to his left eyebrow. Good. Most men despised shopping, and trailing behind her in the drapers as she selected fabrics, curtains, table linens, and trimmings would bore any red-blooded male.

But her victory was short-lived when a smile tugged at his lips, and he extended his arm. “I can think of no better way to spend a pleasant morning.”

“You’re jesting.”

“Never. As I said, I must keep an eye on your efforts.”

Her thoughts churned as she considered this change of plans. His presence would certainly curtail her additional purchases, items she needed to furnish the hidden room. Frustration roiled in her gut. She was aware of him watching her, so she was careful to school her expression.

“Of course,” she said, forcing a pleasant tone.

Just then, Alice appeared with her cloak.

“Alice, Lord Deveril will be accompanying us this morning.”

The woman curtsied, then turned and crooked an eyebrow in question at her mistress. Ellie shrugged.

When they stepped outside, Ellie waved for a hackney.

“No. We shall make use of my carriage,” Hugh said.

“That’s not necessary.”

“You would turn down a perfectly good carriage? Don’t be surly, or do you fear being in close quarters with me?”

Swine. She met his green gaze. “Of course not.”

“Good.” His carriage was summoned, and moments later, two perfectly matched bays appeared pulling a black carriage. His family crest was emblazoned on the side door. He helped Alice alight, but when it was Ellie’s turn, his hand lingered on her arm and then grazed her lower back. A shiver thundered down her spine.

Stop! He has no power over you.

Alice sat in the corner, and Ellie had no choice but to sit across from the marquess. There was a lurch as the carriage started rolling. Planning to ignore him for the journey, she raised the tasseled shade and looked out the window.

“Why did you never marry?”

Her gaze snapped to his. This was not a topic of conversation she desired to engage in with him. It was definitely not a question a gentleman would ask a lady. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Alice stiffen but remain silent. Ellie boldly met his intense stare with her own. “Why didn’t you?”

“I prefer bachelorhood.”

“I prefer my unmarried life as well.”

“Liar. All women seek a husband.”

Her fingers clenched her skirts. Damn him. He had no right to inquire why she’d never married, not after their past. She raised her chin a notch. “Perhaps you have met the exceptional female.”

His eyes traveled over her face, then onto her mouth. He hesitated, then met her gaze, but not before causing her to shift in her seat. Leaning close so that her maid would not hear, he whispered, “Perhaps, but I have to admit that I’ve always found exceptions fascinating.”

A knot rose in her throat. How was she to respond to that? He had a maddening knack for taking her off guard and gaining the upper hand. It didn’t help that he was looking at her like she was a rarity that he did indeed find fascinating. Nor did it help her pounding pulse that she was strangely flattered by his interest.

She glanced at Alice, but thankfully, the woman had not heard his last words.

She was saved from answering when he glanced out the window. “We have arrived.”

Thank my lucky stars!

She looked out the window to see Grafton House at 164 New Bond Street, a well-known London linen draper. Colorful fabrics and trimmings were artfully displayed in the bay window to entice customers to enter.

Hugh hopped out of the carriage and waved away the driver to lower the step himself. This time, Ellie was careful not to touch him as she descended. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it.

The bells above the shop’s doors tinkled as they stepped inside. Bolts of fabric in what seemed like every color of the rainbow crammed the shelves—linens, muslins, broadcloth, violets, and crepes. The shop was a kaleidoscope of color and texture. A handful of women perused the wares as workers aided them with their selections.

Alice waited at the front of the shop as Ellie flitted through the rows of shelves displaying household linens of sheets, table linens, curtains, and bath cloths. She removed her gloves and tucked them into her reticule so that she could touch and feel the weight and texture of each fabric. Hugh trailed close, never far behind her.

She recalled his words in the carriage. This wouldn’t do. She had to stop thinking of Hugh Vere in a sexual fashion. She couldn’t allow him to distract her. She’d worked hard for her chance to prove her worth to her brother and sister-in-law. Financial independence and the chance to run the Raven were much more meaningful than an infuriating marquess.

She brought her mind back to her task at hand. The women’s gambling room required many items, and she’d best get started. She reached for a bolt of red velvet perfect for lush curtains. She could envision the decor as a splendid contrast to the green baize of the tables.

“I would avoid that color,” Hugh said.

She scowled at him over her shoulder. “Why? It would make for a dramatic effect for curtains in my women’s gambling room.”

“No. It would resemble a house of ill repute.”

She blinked. The only reason he’d know that is if he’d visited one of the bordellos in London himself.

“May I suggest a subtler color.” He reached for a bolt of light blue silk. “Now this resembles a lovely sky. Feel the texture.”

The silk swept across her bare fingers like a wisp of a cloud—soft and delicate. It tickled her senses and heightened her awareness of both the fabric and the man.

His fingers brushed hers as he took the fabric from her. “The trick is to let the gamblers feel like they are outside, without ever having to leave.”

She’d heard Ian say the same thing. Keep the patrons inside as long as possible. The more time in the club, the more money they will wager.

Maybe Hugh had what it took to run the Raven Club.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Under his steady scrutiny, she struggled to think. “The casino floor lacks windows for a reason. If the gamblers cannot look outside, then they often forget the time, how long they have been at the tables, and will remain to place bets.”

“A common trick among all gambling halls.”

Her thoughts came easier now. “Blue silk curtains will let them think time has not passed. I concur with your suggestion.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “I’m astonished.”

She scowled. “Do not let it go to your head.”

“Never,” he swore.

She laughed. She couldn’t help herself, then clasped a hand over her mouth.

He stiffened and stared. “I like the sound of your laughter. You used to laugh all the time.”

At the mention of their past, she quieted, and her heart went cold and still. Whether he meant it or not, it was a reminder of why she was here, why she must never lose her wits around him or forget her goals. He must have sensed the tension within her, for he set down the silk and turned the topic of conversation.

“Have you decided what games of chance will be in your women’s salon?” he asked.

She lowered her hand to touch the silk. “Not yet. And I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

“Tsk. That’s not nice.”

“Nice? We are in competition.”

He leaned close and lowered his voice. “From my experience, competition brings out passion.”

Passion? The world rolled lushly off his lips, and her heart leaped wildly in response. She clenched her fist, crushing a handful of delicate silk. “You should not speak to me that way.”

“You’re right, but I cannot help it.”

A wave of pure heat washed over her, and she jerked away from him. No. No. No! This wouldn’t do at all. If he insisted on trailing behind her, she couldn’t possibly tolerate it. Even if his advice regarding the color of curtains was sound, it was not worth having him close.

What was it about him that could make her forget the past, forget the present…forget herself?

She decided right then and there that she needed to give him the slip. She needed to keep her head, and if the only way she could accomplish all she needed to today was to escape, then she would have to do so.

She smiled sweetly. “Since you have firm opinions, you can help me choose other fabrics and colors for table linens.”

Did his lips twitch or was it her imagination? Good. If he thought to drive her to distraction with his attempts to seduce and unnerve her, then she could taunt him in return.

She turned her attention to the counter where the shopkeeper stood. She waved the man over. “Mr. Dunston, we have a large order and will need assistance with our selections.”

A heavyset, middle-aged man swiftly approached. No doubt he recognized nobility when he saw it. Nonetheless, Ellie made the introductions. “The Marquess of Deveril is aiding me with my choices today.”

If the shopkeeper was surprised to have a marquess in his shop selecting fabrics, he did not show it. “Welcome, my lord.” Mr. Dunston looked to Ellie. “Where would you prefer to begin?”

“Curtains. We require many, many of them,” Ellie said.

The shopkeeper clapped his hands, and two young assistants, who appeared to be his daughters, appeared from behind tall bolts of fabric to aid them.

Ellie took perverse delight in taking her time with her selections. One of his daughters even brought forth sketches of elegant drawing rooms in colorful watercolors as samples.

“Do you have swatches of each of the curtains shown in these sketches?”

The girl bobbed her head. “Yes, miss.”

Swatches and bolts of fabric were laid out on a long table for their perusal. Soon, even Ellie became overwhelmed with the selections. But to her surprise, Hugh displayed patience. He shifted through sketches, swatches, and yards of fabric alongside her and picked out what he thought would work best. She grudgingly admitted he had good taste. They arranged for all the goods to be delivered to the Raven Club.

“I see you in a different light, my lord,” Ellie said.

“Oh?”

“I believed you would find shopping distasteful.”

“Perhaps it is the company.”

Devil.

She waited until Mr. Dunston returned with an armful of additional bolts of cloth before making her move.

“I spotted trimmings in the front of the store. Pardon while I fetch what I am looking for,” Ellie said.

No one paid her attention. She hurried to the front of the store and, without a word, motioned to Alice to follow. Reaching up, Ellie held the little bell above the door, opened it, and they slipped outside.

Once they were on the street, Ellie took Alice’s arm and swiftly walked away. They passed three stores, a haberdasher, a furrier, and a tailor before Alice spoke.

“You realize the marquess will be angry.”

Ellie didn’t slow her step. “If I get everything done, then it will be worth his ire. Besides, he deserves it.”

“Hmm. He doesn’t strike me as a man who will easily let you have your way.” Alice’s longer strides kept up with Ellie’s quick pace.

“It is of no consequence.” Her destination was two blocks away, and despite her bold words, she felt an urgency to put as much distance between her and the draper before Hugh even realized she was no longer in the shop.

“Pardon my frankness, miss, but I see the way the marquess looks at you. I do believe you will have more to contend with than you believe.”

Ellie let out an unladylike snort. “You are mistaken. The marquess only wants the club.”

“I don’t believe so. I’ve been widowed, miss. I know something of men,” Alice argued. “His lordship is enamored of you.”

Ellie scowled as she walked. She couldn’t contend with Alice’s comments, not now, not when she had more pressing matters.

“Hurry. We’re here.” Ellie spotted the furniture maker’s wooden sign swinging on its hinges in the slight breeze. Alice opened the door.

With one last glimpse at the street for any sign of Hugh, Ellie swept inside.

…

She’d given him the slip.

Hugh had suspected something was amiss. Ellie had a tell—a tiny twitch of her lips when she lied. She’d had it ever since he’d known her. He’d recognized it years ago at a garden party when she’d told her family she’d seen a friend and wanted to stroll the gardens with her. Except there was no friend. Ellie had met Hugh in the gardens, and they’d shared a sweet kiss inside a fragrant maze.

What happened to the innocent girl of his youth?

Ellie had always been intelligent, but now she was bold. Feisty enough to abandon him in a draper’s shop. He wished he could have seen her grow from a bookish girl into a fiery woman. He mourned the loss.

He was surrounded by bolts of fabric with an overeager shopkeeper and his assistants. He would laugh at his predicament if he weren’t furious.

Ellie couldn’t evade him that easily. He felt a heightened anticipation and eagerness he’d lacked for a long, long time. She was a refreshing change since his return from the military. His last mistress, an actress at Drury Lane, had wanted more, and he wasn’t interested. But Ellie was different. A challenge. A worthy opponent, not in the ring but in a battle of wits. And Hugh liked nothing better.

If Ellie thought she could fool him, she had met her match.