He was handsome enough, she supposed. Not to her personal taste, but she couldn’t complain that Eli had thwarted her plan to find a dealer the other women would stay longer to see. His hair was somewhere between honey and brass where it caught the light, and he sported sideburns that were a little smaller than the standard muttonchop. His clean-shaven jaw had a nice firm line to it, which was further improved by a small scar that wrapped over his chin, stopping just short of his lower lip.
The ladies will love that.
She inclined her head. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Corbyn.”
Eli hadn’t called for any tea, she noticed, but she didn’t like to interrupt the servants in their preparations for the evening at this late hour. Better to leave it.
“Please have a seat.” She gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of her desk, while she herself took the large armchair behind it. Mr. Corbyn obeyed too quickly, without waiting for Della to sit first.Rough around the edges.Not the best trait for someone who would be surrounded by well-born ladies every evening. “Shall we begin with your telling me how your naval service ended, exactly?” Della suggested, recalling Eli’s mention of a dishonorable discharge.“I don’t wish to pry, but I need to know if you pose any risk to our reputation.”
“He doesn’t.” Eli said firmly. “It was all a misunderstanding. I can vouch for him.”
Mr. Corbyn glanced around the room, which was still silent and peaceful save for the sound of the dealers setting up their tables and counting out chips beyond the large oak door. “You’re a gaming hell. I wouldn’t think you’d need to worry too much about a scandal.”
Really?
Della shot an accusatory look at Eli, who shot an accusatory look at his friend.
“What Mr. Corbynmeansto say is that he had a dispute with his commanding officer, but it wasn’t due to any fault of his.”
“What sort of dispute?”
“I broke his nose.” Corbyn muttered through gritted teeth. “But he deserved it.”
Good Lord.What did one say after an announcement like that? Should she continue interviewing him, as though breaking his superior’s face weren’t a fatal flaw?
Shewould be his superior soon, and she rather liked her face.
“Where is your family from?” Della tried, deciding that she didn’t want to ask any more about the fight, lest his answers prove too terrifying.
Surely Eli wouldn’t have brought him here if he posed a real danger.
Della hazarded a glance to the man’s arms, noticing how muscular they looked even through the broadcloth of his shirt. He wasn’t dressed like a gentleman, nor was his speech softened with the polish of an Eton boy. Eli had said he’d been a midshipmen, hadn’t he? They were often drawn from the lower classes. It seemed likely that was this case here.
“Don’t have any family,” Mr. Corbyn said, his voice suddenly hard.
“Oh. You’re an orphan? I’m so sorry.” She should have thought to ask Eli about his background before this meeting, to avoid exactly this sort of blunder. Maybe the man had suffered a difficult life, and that explained his cold manner and the fighting. Eli was the sort who liked to help those in need.
“Not an orphan,” Corbyn corrected. “Just no bloody family worth speaking of.”
Oh goodness.She was trying her best, and he really wouldn’t give her anything to work with.
“Do you, er, have much experience at card play?”
Mr. Corbyn shrugged, his expression bored. “When we can manage to get a few minutes of rest from our duties, we often play cards at sea. I’m sure I can handle this.”
His “this” somehow managed to carry with it an unspoken disdain for everything she’d built over the course of the past three years.
That’s quite enough.
Della could forgive him for wasting her time. After all, she wasted her own time in a multitude of ways each day. She couldevenforgive him for making no effort to please her. Not every employee needed to sparkle with enthusiasm. If they were competent, turned up on time, and didn’t steal from the pot, she would dole out their pay with a smile.
But to show opendisdainfor Bishop’s was unforgivable. She suffered enough of that attitude outside these walls; she wouldn’t tolerate it within them.
“Eli, might I have a private word?” Della was using her most polite voice. The one that she only employed when she needed to keep herself from blurting out something truly inappropriate, like,Eli, why have you brought a violent criminal into my club?Or,Eli, if you weren’t married to my best friend, I’d demote you to floor-sweep for this.
Mr. Corbyn rose to his feet and left the room without so much as a backwards glance.
“You can’t expect me to take him on,” she hissed, the moment the door had shut.
