“Indeed. But Mrs. Dove-Lyon said we should take our time. I’ve got a pot of tea coming and a dinner tray.”
Felicity bit her lip. Why was this scarier than tending to a half-naked male in his home? She’d spent weeks with Lord Alston. Most of the time he’d been undressed. But that had been different. He’d been recovering from a terrible injury. He never felt like a threat. He never felt like... a real prospect for her. And Lord Alston hadn’t known she was there to consider him as a potential husband, only that she was a nurse sent by Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Would these men know why she was there?
Her stomach turned over at the thought.
“You’ve gone a bit green, miss.”
“I don’t think I can do this, Milly.”
“Of course you can. With a mask like that, you can be anyone you want to be.”
Felicity stared at the mask. A mask was just another way to hide. How much longer would she be able to keep her presence a secret?
Four hours later
Felicity did notlook in the mirror. Not when she dressed—alone—and not when Milly returned to fasten the back and to tie the mask. A black domino draped her shoulders, but she still felt exposed by this gown and the way she could feel it clinging to her body. Too much air touched her upper chest. She hugged the halves of the domino closed as she left her room, her gaze on the floor.
“Mr. Chase is waiting at the ladies’ door to take you through. He looks good enough to eat,” Milly said with glee.
“What?” Felicity said in confusion, but Milly had hurried ahead, almost running down the stairs. Milly paused at the landing, peeking around the corner.
“Just look at him. Hair black as a raven’s wing and those eyes like licks of blue flame.” She shivered. “His arms are so thick.”
“Milly, what are you talking about?” Felicity looked over her, the benefit of being taller than Milly. There Mr. Chase stood, arms folded and certainly bulging with muscle, as Milly described. Not massive like a blacksmith, but agile. A man who could move swiftly. His top hat was missing, and his hair was styled elegantly. He could easily mix among the lords. Her mouth dried as she watched him, her heart beating faster as warmth spread through her belly. Tristan Chase was a beautiful, if dangerous, man. But not the sort of danger that frightened her. He had the kind of edge that came from a man who could defend himself. A seasoned soldier who feared nothing. He straightened, rolling his shoulders as if he weren’t comfortable in his evening attire, but he looked the part. A stunning, charming creature, and he was hers. For tonight.
Felicity shook her head. She stepped out from behind Milly and approached him. He looked in her direction, his blazing blue eyes catching her in their thrall. She was swallowed into his intense orbit as she stopped before him, her bodice too tight, but nevertheless she held his stare. There was one thing Felicity was certain of. She could never fear him. For all his dark mystery, his sinister glares, and taunting smiles, he was a decent man. A man with a skewed compass perhaps, but that compass still pointed toward chivalry and honor. The others whispered about him. He was secretive and revealed nothing about himself. He slipped through the shadows, rarely socializing, and yet everyone spoke of him. About him—never to him.
He abhorred gambling, which Felicity found curious since heworked in a gambling den. There must be a story there. An intrigue that only added to his mysterious allure. The ladies often fawned over him, but if Felicity understood their innuendo, they suspected him an excellent lover, but none of them had first-hand experience, which Felicity found reassuring. She wouldn’t look at him the same if she knew he was cavorting from room to room.
So, what did he do? Where did he go? Who was he?
His stare never dropped from her face, but she wanted to feel his appraisal. Did she look acceptable? Or did she look absurd, obviously out of place in this word of elegance and vice?
“Mr. Chase,” she murmured softly, having difficulty finding her voice. Her skin flushed with uncomfortable heat as her awareness of him overwhelmed her.
“You look enchanting, Miss Brandon.” He took her hand and bowed over it.
Felicity licked her lips. She didn’t know what to do with her body. Compliments were not something a good, pious woman entertained.
“Oh, thank you. You as well.”
His lips twitched. “Are you ready? I thought we’d stick to the upper gallery so you could observe the floor. When you feel comfortable, we’ll join the fray.”
“Am I expected to play?”
“No. Just observe.”
“And you’ll be there?”
His jaw tightened. “I will not leave your side for a single moment.”
The tension in her shoulders eased. She could do this. She could watch and observe these people from afar and no one would know who she was.
Felicity nodded. He held out his arm, and she curved her hand around his bicep. Her fingers flexed as Milly’s words came back to her. He did have thick arms. The bulging muscle firmed under her hand as he opened the door and led her through.
Chapter Four
The club hadnot yet reached full crescendo for the evening. The players were rather tame. The tables were occupied by older gentlemen who would begin and end their night early and head to bed. Then the younger set would drift in, intent to wash their throats with good bourbon and arrogantly cripple their finances, when the balls and soirees grew dull. Some would lose until there was nothing left, or close to nothing, serving themselves on gleaming silver platters to the widow’s pleasure. Others would compete in odd games and betting.
