“Why do you act as if you don’t believe me?”
“Idon’tbelieve you.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “And why is that?”
“I’ve observed your brother. I’ve seen him do reckless things, but never would I take him for a man who would leave his cherished sister alone. He’s protective of you above all things. Any capable estate manager could handle the sheep problem.”
Amelia scoffed. “I’m not alone. I have a household full of servants and a fiancé. And maybe you don’t know my brother as well as you think you do.”
“My instincts are never wrong.”
“Not that you know of, anyhow. But as I asked before, why does it matter what my brother is doing?”
“It matters to the Widow. That is all that matters to me.”
Amelia brightened as he provided the avenue to move conversation away from her brother. “May I meet her?”
“Certainly. She’d love to meet you.” He stood and offered his arm.
Amelia declined to take it. Whatever she might say, she did care for her reputation a bit, after all, especially when she did not yet know what the Den truly had to offer.
He smiled and lowered his arm, leading the way back toward the entry room Amelia had found herself in initially. They crossed it and entered the ladies’ parlor Helena had mentioned, and they came upon a figure shrouded in black, a lace veil covering half her face. She turned, apparently sensing them.
“Madam, may I present Lady Amelia Clark?” He stepped back but did not leave them.
“Mr. Chase has had much to say about you and your brother.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat on the settee and beckoned Amelia to do the same.
“I hope they’ve been entertaining things,” Amelia replied.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon laughed softly. “Some. I’ve heard you play cards as well as your brother, if not better.”
“I do.”
“Won’t you partake of my establishment?”
This felt like a challenge. A test of her mettle. Would the pampered sister of an earl run away from the seedy gaming hall?
“I’d like to observe first, see what interests me.”
“My Den has much to offer.”
“My brother comes here often, I’ve learned.”
“Frequently enough to be missed lately.”
“I understand you want to marry him off. Would I approve of this mystery bride?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned toward her, and Amelia could feel her scrutiny.
“I think you would.”
“And would you truly know? We’ve only just met.”
“I’m good at reading people. I can see them for what they are and not what they portray.”
Amelia dwelled on that statement. “I think I will play,” she said after a moment.
“Excellent. Helena will show you to the ladies’ tables.”
