“You may regret that when you discover you’re a fool, Finn Trewlove.”
“I have a lot of regrets, Vivi, but none of them revolve around anything you’ve done.”
Oh, but they should. It was madness to have him back in her life, but she didn’t want to walk away from the possibilities, no matter how much they frightened her. She’d run too many times. This time, she intended to stay put and see this through to the end.
She dipped a pen into the inkwell and scrawled her name where Mr. Beckwith indicated, watched as Finn did the same. The solicitor then signed the document as a witness. He placed the agreement in his satchel. “I’ll keep these in my offices,” he said.
With a nod to each of them, he walked out.
And it was done. She was a partner in a gambling hell.
Her excitement as she’d stepped out of the hansom had been palpable, infectious. As much as he’d anticipated running his club, perhaps even competing with Aiden’s for a bit more success, suddenly there was a joyous aspect to it that had been missing before. His family had always been supportive of his efforts, but now that she was part and parcel of what he hoped to achieve, the possibilities suddenly seemed not only infinite but reachable. If it were late afternoon, he’d pour them drinks. Ah, hell, it was late afternoon somewhere. “Let’s celebrate,” he said, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of whisky off the credenza.
“It’s not even noon,” she said, clearly shocked by his suggestion.
“Which will make it even more special.” He put just a splash in each glass, handed her one, and lifted his. “To our success.”
Hitching up a hip, he settled on the edge of his desk, took a sip, and watched as she did the same. She blinked; her eyes widened. “I’d forgotten how tart it was.”
“Have you not had any since that night?” The night when he’d first made love to her.
She shook her head, then glanced over at the other desk. “Is that mine?”
“It is.”
After wandering over to it, she trailed her finger along its edge. “You certainly managed to obtain it in short order. How did you accomplish it?”
“I have my ways.” It had been in the office next door, waiting for the day when he hired someone to assist him, so late last night with some help from one of the dealers, he’d moved it in here.
“Are you going to continue to be mysterious now that we’re partners?” she asked.
“When it serves.” He didn’t want her to decide she should have her own office. Already this one was more to his liking with her in it.
She settled back against her desk, and he suspected she regretted not being tall enough at that moment to sit on the edge of it as he was. “Tell me about the Trewlove Foundling Home.”
“Not much to say. It is what it says—”
A knock on the doorjamb stopped him, and he caught sight of a young woman standing there, one he’d been expecting. “Pardon my interruption, Mr. Trewlove. Your man downstairs told me to come on up.”
Setting his glass aside, he slid off the desk, aware of Vivi straightening. “Your timing is perfect. Miss Kent, meet Beth. Gillie’s seamstress. She’s here to take your measurements for a couple of frocks.”
“I’m not in need of frocks.”
“Of course you are.”
“What I have will suffice. You don’t need to purchase me clothing.”
“I’ll add it to your tally.” Which was a lie. These were going to be gifts from him because he couldn’t stand to see her in rags. It took him only three steps to reach her, three seconds to touch his fingers to her chin. “You’re a partner now. While you might not go onto the gaming floor, you’ll be dealing with employees in here and the back rooms. It won’t do for you to look less than polished. Mick had a lover once who told him if he didn’t dress like a successful businessman before he was one, he would never be one.” He dropped his hand to her collar, ran his thumb along the tattered edge. “It won’t do for you to be dressed in worn clothing.”
He could see she wasn’t happy but also had no rebuttal to his argument.
“Yes, all right. But two, only two for now.”
It was going to be three. He had something special in mind for the third, but it was to be a surprise. Hopefully just as much of one as she was to him. He’d expected her to jump at the chance of having a new frock. Lady Lavinia would have been mortified to wear anything that had so much as a single frayed thread. But this woman was a mystery he wanted to unravel.
“Let’s get you set up in your rooms so Beth can get to work. I’m certain she has customers and stitching awaiting her back at her shop.” He lifted the burlap sack that, based on its weight, contained hardly anything at all. He recalled all the frocks she’d worn on their outings. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the same one a second time. Then there was that froth of a ball gown, which he suspected had depleted China of all its silk. Beneath every fancy garment had been layers of petticoats. It would have taken trunks to haul her clothing anywhere, trunks and an extra carriage or two to transport them. Yet here was this small bundle. How far she’d fallen.
No, not fallen. She’d gone willingly, with purpose, had made the choice to leave the other life behind, had kept the vow she’d made to run off with him—only she’d had to do it without him. He intended to prove to her that the vow they’d made in their youth was still worth honoring.
