“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She wanted it to be him. She wanted Tristan to be the man she would marry. He had no title, no money, no social status or power here in London, but he had everything else she needed. Everything that mattered to her.
“No, I’m just out of sorts and not looking forward to this evening.”
“I’ll make it worth your while afterward, if you’re a good girl.”
Her whole body lit with white fire. “I beg your pardon?”
“Have I told you yet how beautiful you are? This dress is meant to inspire impure thoughts. Where is your cloak?”
“White is the color for innocence.”
“Corrupting innocents is the ultimate temptation, Flick. You’re going to drive them mad tonight.”
Felicity couldn’t answer as she put on her mask. He helped her tie the ribbons behind her head and then they were on their way to the gaming floor.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as they reached the stairs.
“Later, if you’re a good boy.”
He straightened, putting the appropriate distance between them. Their only physical touch was her hand on his forearm.
“Oh, love, I’m not, but I have ways of making you spill all your secrets.”
Their banter lightened her mood, and she was able to put on a genuine smile as cheers for Lady Luck filled the air. Tristan grumbled beside her which only made her smile more. He might not realize it, but it had become obvious to her that he was jealous. His mood always soured as men talked to her and tried to engage her in playing the games. Even more when they tried to take her arm and separate them.
Tonight was no different. They took a few laps around the room before more familiar faces, Sir Elliot and Mr. West, invited her to play a game of cards.
“I don’t know how to play I’m afraid, and I have nothing with which to bet.”
“The Den allows more than blunt to bet,” Sir Elliot said in his usual affable demeanor. “It can be a boon or a promise or—”
“Take off your mask, if you lose.” Mr. West said.
Tristan stood at her side, just behind her, conversing with someone, and yet she was aware of his sudden stillness.
She looked over her shoulder at him and he shook his head.
Felicity smiled at him. Only a few days ago, this would have frightened her. She would have ended her night right here. But some of these men she thought she knew, on some superficial level. As friends.
“I accept,” she said. A cheer rose through the crowd and a gentleman vacated a chair for her. She sat down and Tristan leaned over her chair to push it in.
“Are you mad?” he asked in a grumbling whisper.
Felicity patted his shoulder. “It has to happen sometime.”
The dealer shuffled the cards and went over the rules of the game.The best of three would win. Felicity thought she understood the rules of Whist for the most part. Sir Elliot agreed to be her partner.
“She’s watching,” Tristan said from close behind her chair.
“Of course she is,” Felicity said as nerves turned her stomach. So many eyes were on her, including those of The Lyon herself. Felicity scanned the crowd around her, but she did not notice a gold clover pin.
The cards were dealt, and Felicity studied the faces, trying to remember the values. The first round, she and Sir Elliot won, and all credit was given to sheer luck. She didn’t know how she managed it. The second round they lost, but she thought she had a better handle on the rules. For the final round, Mr. West and his partner, Wickstone, must take the turn. Mr. West seemed wary of his cards, his smile less enthusiastic than before. Was she going to win? Then she wouldn’t reveal her face after all. A wall of eager gentlemen surrounded them as Mr. West put down his card.
The room quieted, her pounding heart and the suspense in the room turning her stomach uncomfortably. Regret flashed through her mind, but it was too late. She had to keep her word, whatever happened next. She couldn’t hide behind a mask forever. It wasn’t as though they would know her true name or her face when she came from such a small, impoverished village.
Wickstone set down his card and the room erupted. He leaned back in his chair, a bit pale.
