Griffin watched the game for a while, congratulated Mr. Harvey’s good run of luck and better skill, then moved on to roulette. The wheel was not favoring any one patron this evening and Griffin realized his own attention was wandering. When a quartet of young bucks, all turned out in matching scarlet waistcoats, spilled through the entrance, Griffin backed away from the table to watch them. Clearly from the volume of their speech and the color of their waistcoats, they were bent on making themselves a spectacle.
As soon as he saw they had fixed themselves on reaching the stairs, Griffin moved as quickly as the press of patrons around him would allow. He was familiar with their set, though not these four in particular, and found them to be essentially harmless and easily managed without incident as long as they were not too far gone in their cups. It was difficult to know at a glance how foxed they were. Their high spirits could be attributed to their anticipation of adventure, the relief of arriving at Putnam Lane unscathed, or the natural self defense of young men playing at something outside their experience. Perhaps their exuberance was rooted in all three, but Griffin suspected it was strongly supported by several rounds of hard drink.
He knew a moment’s unease as they rushed the stairs before him. He followed at a more seemly pace, unwilling to call attention to them beyond what they had called to themselves.
Olivia gave no outward sign that she was aware of the rowdy and slightly ribald laughter that was drifting in from the hallway. She turned over the top card on the deck in front of her. “House pays on four.”
She smiled at the collective groan that rose from the punters. Only one among them had a marker resting on the four. Showing sympathy for the losers, she paid out even money to the winning player and allowed all of them time to decide on their next wager.
“All wagers are down,” she said. She hardly heard the words herself as successive waves of deep male laughter rolled into the room. Heads turned toward the full tide of sound, but Olivia remained attentive to the game. She showed the top card. “House wins on seven.”
After listening to some good-natured protests from the losers, Olivia briskly collected all four of the markers resting on the seven of spades. It was a splendid return for the house. While new wagers were being set, she glanced up to see four gentlemen advancing toward her. She knew a moment’s alarm at the rate of their approach, afraid their momentum would push the tide of gentlemen upon her.
“Bets down, please,” she said to allow for some last bit of maneuvering and second guessing. When the last hand was withdrawn, she nodded. “All bets are down.”
There was some jostling for position at the rear of the crush around the table. “Gentlemen. Have a care, else the markers will shift, and we will never sort out the winners from the losers.” Even as she said it, the table was bumped and three markers slid off the painted cards into other positions. Olivia stepped back from the table and permitted the punters to rearrange their wagers.
“Gentlemen,” she said again, this time with a pointed look in the direction of the disturbance. “There is room enough for everyone to participate.”
“I am in love,” one of the newcomers declared as he craned his neck for a better view. “She has the voice of an angel.”
“And wings,” another said. “I swear she has wings.”
Olivia refrained from rolling her eyes and offered an apologetic smile to those players who were waiting for her to turn a card. “The house will pay on the queen.”
“Did she say play on the queen?” This query prompted a new wave of laughter. “I should like to play on the queen.”
One of his friends pushed him forward, forcing a split between a pair of gentlemen who’d been waiting patiently for their opportunity to move closer to the table. They drew themselves up rigidly and in tandem closed ranks, shouldering the dandy back. He put his hands on their shoulders and launched himself upward for a better glimpse of the angel queen.
Olivia quickly paid the winners and proceeded with a new round of wagers. She was eager to move the game along before chaos took over and her winnings were lost to the replacement of broken furniture and glassware.
The quartet did not allow themselves to be easily dismissed, but they settled down long enough to pass their wagers forward and follow the turn of the cards at a distance that kept everyone’s fists at their sides. Thankful that they retained some measure of self-preservation, Olivia simply ignored their banal observations about her ethereal countenance and regal bearing. Drink had left them without wit or imagination.
“My lord,” Olivia said softly, acknowledging Breckenridge stepping up to her side. She had been aware of his presence in the room from the outset. He’d closely followed the gentlemen in but hung back to observe their forward push and what would become of it. Several times she thought he would take them up by their collars and yank them out of the room, but when she glanced in his direction he seemed perfectly at his ease, merely mindful of the mingling of his guests.
Griffin placed a proprietary hand at the small of Olivia’s back. He felt her stiffen under his palm. It lasted but a moment, then she relaxed, though he suspected it was accomplished with effort. “Finish this round,” he said, “then Foster will spell you.”
It occurred to her to protest, but she thought better of it. The punters were watching her closely, hoping she’d make some excuse to stay. She would not pit Breckenridge against them. Without missing a beat, she quickened the rhythm of an already fast-paced game, cheerfully encouraging the players to keep up with her. The wagers came and went furiously, with punters calling out, groaning, and shouting by turns depending on the card that Olivia pulled from the deck. It required only a few minutes for the table to be cleared.
Olivia let herself be led away on Breckenridge’s arm. Her four newest admirers turned as one, their expressions thoroughly pitiful as they realized they would have no chance with her. She was almost past them when one of them stepped away from the group and tilted his head to make a better study of her.
Olivia held Breckenridge back and boldly turned to face him. “You wish to have an unobstructed view, perhaps?”
He blinked and shook his head. A lock of sandy hair fell forward over his high brow.
“Make another observation, then?”
His eyes narrowed, but the strain of so much concentration in light of the alcohol he’d consumed made them cross. For a moment he was unsteady on his feet. “You remind me of—”
“An angel,” she said. “Yes, I know.”
“No. It is just that you—”
“Possess the stately air of a queen. I heard you. I heard all of you. Now, you will excuse me.” She smiled politely, coolly, and turned away, dismissing him as she squeezed lightly on Breckenridge’s elbow.
Griffin escorted her to the stairs. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Olivia hesitated. “They’re harmless, my lord.”
