“Well,” she said finally. “I suppose when you put our club in your book, we can’t count on your wife’s patronage then.”
A bark of laughter escaped him, quite against his will.Who is this woman?
“Miss Danby, I admire your tenacity, but my answer is still no.”
A gambling club for ladies.
If she ran any other sort of establishment, he would have been tempted to give in, if only to reward her persistence. But this was out of the question. It was bad enough that the men of this country brought their families to the brink of starvation and ruin on a roll of the dice. He wouldn’t help Miss Danby infect the remaining half of the population with the same affliction. He knew the toll it took all too well.
“Come and see it for yourself,” she invited. “I’ll give you a tour of the premises, then you can judge if it’s worthy of a mention alongside White’s or Brooks’s. You won’t be disappointed.”
Lyman stiffened. The promise of a personal tour from a beautiful woman might have tempted him in other circumstances, but not here. She couldn’t know how unwelcome her offer was.
He searched for a polite excuse. “I wouldn’t want to frighten awayall your guests. It can’t be much of a ladies’ club if you let me in.”
She flashed that smile again. An impish glimpse of white between the pink of her lips that promised something more wicked yet to come. “I’d be more worried for you than for them, to be quite honest. Our members are known to get a bit rowdy without their husbands and fathers around, and you’d grant them a tempting diversion. But if thingsdidget out of hand, we have a six-foot-tall reformed pirate handling our security who could quiet things down rather quickly.” At Lyman’s stunned chuckle, she added, “None of that was a joke.”
It seemed Miss Danby had an answer to everything, but he wouldn’t drag this out any further. What she asked of him was impossible.
“Let me be as clear as I can. I won’t attend your club under any circumstances.”
She withdrew her arm from his and squared her shoulders.
“I urge you to reconsider. I would much rather be your friend than your enemy, Lord Ashton.”
My enemy?Of all the absurdities that had escaped her mouth in the past quarter hour, that had to take the cake. Standing in a patch of sunlight that fell across her face, dressed in her fine clothes and barely coming to his shoulder, Miss Danby couldn’t have looked any less threatening. A pampered tabby who thought herself a tiger. Yet the firm set of her jaw betrayed how serious she was.
“I regret that I cannot.” He almost meant it. This short acquaintance had proven Miss Danby to be an unconventional lady, one that he would have liked to know better. But that path held more danger than he could afford.
He needed to finish the revisions to his book as soon as possible—withrealattractions, not the thinly veiled temptation this woman offered—and collect his money. He had debts to pay. Too many tocount.
“Very well,” she finally conceded. “But you’re making a mistake.”
With that ominous warning, Miss Danby took her leave. Lyman watched her until she was out of sight, unable to shake the feeling she had only been a strange dream.
***
The club was busy that evening. So much so that Della should have quickly forgotten her rejection from Viscount Ashton. Eli hadn’t arrived yet, which meant it fell to her to keep an eye on any suspicious play, nip extravagant bets in the bud, circle the room to make sure their guests were happy, and monitor that the service of refreshments was neither stingy nor intemperate. It was a lot to handle, and Della had begun to wonder if their profits were at a point where they might hire a manager to oversee such practicalities for them.
Jane will say no.Della sighed as she slipped into the kitchen to inform the waitstaff to stop serving champagne to Mrs. Fairfield before she had to be rolled into her carriage.
Her friend could be too spendthrift sometimes. But Jane has also been indefatigable, prior to meeting her match in the form of an eight-pound, squalling tyrant. Whenshe’dbeen the one managing the club in the evenings, there had never been a need for more help.
If she could handle it, why can’t I?
No matter how Della tried, she never achieved the same level of competence. Jane never got distracted, and she had a no-nonsense tone that made people fall in line. One arch of her brow and debts were paid, overly boisterous ladies hushed their voices, and servants whisked away empty glasses and plates. No one took Della half so seriously.
Just look at Lord Ashton. She’d used every tool at her disposal.She’d been charming, then she’d tried reason, then finally threats. None of it had made the slightest difference.
At best, he’d thought her silly: a reckless young lady who’d bitten off more than she could chew with this endeavor. He was hardly the first to draw such a conclusion. Most men scoffed at her club—if not to her face, then certainly behind her back. Della had learned not to pay any mind what they thought of her, but the condemnation in the viscount’s eyes was more difficult to shrug off.
It’s because he was so handsome.
What a disappointing reason! Della wished she were above such thoughts—particularly given that she’d approached Lord Ashton purely for matters of business—but she had a terrible weakness for handsome men, and the viscount was exactly her type. Although, to be fair, “her type” was a broad category that could encompass some variety in the male figure. In this case, the gentleman was of trim build and very neat in his personal appearance, his jaw cleanly shaven and his hair combed back. He was taller than her (although this wasn’t difficult to accomplish), but not so large as to be imposing. The sprinkling of gray at his temples hinted he might be a touch too old for her, or perhaps that impression came from his stern gaze.
I wonder if he likes to take charge in the bedroom.She did love a man with a sense of authority.
“Sorry I’m late.” Eli interrupted her reverie, his cravat askew. “Where do you need me?”
