“One night, perhaps. You cannot go on in such a fashion else some enterprising rascal will set his mind on the truth and have at it.”
“Then what do you propose?”
“You do not wish to choose a name yourself?”
“No.”
He regarded her with consideration, lingering on her splendid green eyes. “Emerald, I think. Miss Emerald Hepplewhite.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “Oh, very well, if you are going to be silly about it, I shall be Ann Shepard.”
“Ann Shepard. Just like that?”
“My nanny.” She was unaware that a shadow crossed her face. “Do not concern yourself. She is long dead now. A vague memory even to me, though I wish it were not so. I called her Honey, a childish corruption of Nanny, I suppose.” Olivia shook her head slightly, her slender smile a bit winsome. “Or perhaps it is only that I thought she was sweet.” The smile disappeared. “They did not like her, though, and she was sent packing. I recall that well enough.”
Griffin did not ask Olivia to identify who “they” were. He slipped this morsel of information into the pocket of his mind that he’d constructed exclusively for all things Olivia Cole. It still had very little in the way of content.
“So, shall I call you Ann or Honey?”
“You may call me Miss Shepard.”
He nodded, tempering his smile. “You should think of a story for yourself, some tasty bits of information that you may drop from time to time to calm your suitors.”
“Is that really necessary? They are at the table because they want to win at faro.”
She seemed to genuinely believe that. “Humor me then. I don’t care what you say to them, but you should be prepared to say something.”
“Where I live, for instance, and how I came to be dealing faro at your hell. Are those the sort of things I can expect to be asked?”
“I imagine. How will you answer such posers?”
“I suppose I shall have to put the speculation to rest and make it clear that I have replaced Mrs. Christie in your life.”
“Yes, that will end the speculation,” he said dryly.
“Really, my lord, if there is another more suitable explanation, I am unaware of it.” She raised an eyebrow as he shifted in his chair. “Have I discomfited you? You have only to recall that you were the one to suggest it.”
“I do not believe I suggested it precisely. I merely pointed out that the gentlemen playing faro were likely to have believed as much.”
“What is that if not a suggestion? I certainly hadn’t thought of it. I supposed they believed you were protecting your investment. Not me, I mean, but the money in the bank. In any event, it is Honey Shepard who will be your mistress, not Olivia Cole.”
“Honey. I can’t say that I particularly like that. It makes my teeth ache.”
“Then it is good that you shall only address me as Miss Shepard.”
“Ann is a fine name.”
“Perhaps I will give you leave to use it on occasion.”
Griffin chose once again not to press as they both knew he would call her anything he pleased. He stood instead. “I will speak to Mason in the morning about the wigs. It might be necessary to add more gowns to your wardrobe. A few items of jewelry, too. As my mistress, it will be expected.” He saw her frown. “Do not worry. I shan’t allow you to keep the pieces.”
She nodded, relieved. He could not precisely force her to wear them. “You have said nothing about my wages.”
He smiled. Olivia Cole did not disappoint. “I was thinking that a percentage of the winnings at your table would be in order. Say, half of one percent.”
“How much do you usually draw in at the faro table?”
“Four hundred quid.”
