She had always had a head for numbers, and cards were no different. Her father had taught her to play at a young age, despite her sex, and she had quickly surpassed him in skill. It was the one thing he had done right by her, as laughable as it seemed.
The crowds parted, and the man came again into view, leaning against a wall across the room.
He still had his eyes on her, an intensity to his look that had Helen sucking in a shuddery breath.
She sipped her wine, allowing her gaze to linger on his face and slide down his body.
It was immediately apparent that this was no dissolute peer of the realm. Despite the foppish attire, his body was lean and graceful. Almost catlike, as he smoothly crossed his arms and blatantly returned her look.
A sinful fantasy crossed her thoughts, of her reaching up and dragging that arrogant mouth down to hers, letting those hands touch her while she nipped teasingly at those lips.
Was this unnerving feeling lust?
Helen had never had such a reaction to a man.
Perhaps not even in the faraway days of courting her late husband, had she felt this intense quivery excitement in her belly. The restless impulse tightened low, between her thighs, a slight throbbing in time to her elevated pulse.
Of course, Helen and James had both been chaste before their marriage, and Helen had not yet understood what she felt then at sixteen, in her innocence.
But at twenty-seven, widowed these last three years, she was astounded by this sudden flare of desire.
Whatever it was, It was dangerous, Helen knew, so she stood, cutting the brief moment off as she made her way towards the outer rooms of the establishment.
She would go home, go to bed and forget all about this feeling.
Tomorrow she would tally her winnings and perhaps enjoy a night at the theatre. It might be best to take a break from the Palais, all things considered.
CHAPTER TWO
Helen askedthe doorman to call her a carriage, choosing to wait in the fresh air of the small courtyard just outside the ballroom.
She wrapped a light cashmere shawl around her bare arms, feeling suddenly light-hearted now that she was free to relax. Happy, almost, as she stared up at the dark night sky. The sooty London air hid the stars she knew to be up there, but the knowledge did nothing to dim her enjoyment.
Soon.
Soon she would have enough put away in investments to leave places like this, and London town, behind forever. Find somewhere new to start afresh. Bath, or Brighton perhaps.
It felt like anything was possible at that moment.
A crunch on the gravel behind her alerted her to his presence, his form obscured in the gloom as the only light shone from inside, through the windows.
“I know you are there, I have felt your eyes on me the entire evening. Who are you, and what do you want?” said Helen, still looking up at the sky.
The man stepped out of the shadows, throwing a cheroot into the gravel next to the path and grinding it out with the heel of his boot.
“I think it’s quite obvious, what I want,” he drawled, his voice refined but with a rough edge to it that Helen couldn’t quite place.
He took a languid sip of the drink which dangled nonchalantly from his fingers. “Who I am is of little consequence.”
Helen laughed softly, a mere huff of breath, throwing propriety to the winds as she turned her head to shoot him an ironic look. “It might be of little consequence to you, but trust me, to a woman, who you are is of tantamount importance.”
“Why,” he asked, cocking his head. “Would it help matters along if you could judge the size of my annual income against the length of my cock?”
Helen stared, shocked at the blunt words. Although she hid her reaction automatically as she shuttered her expression into the bland look she normally wore.
“Oh, I see now what kind of man you are. Good evening to you,” she answered with a tight smile.
She had had enough of men’s insufferable ways to last her a lifetime.She wanted no more.
