Mrs Montrose had remained unmoved throughout the game, completely sure of every move she made, every bet placed. Each movement was elegant and unhurried as her fingers tipped the cards up for the merest second on each play.
Oh yes, Helen Montrose was easily the most fascinating woman Starling had encountered in a very long time.
She had been wary of his attention at first, but Starling had been persistent, and it had been thrilling to watch her careful control slip for just a moment.
What a hellcat the lady was under all that composure.
He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in, well,years.
Whistling, the smile lingering on his lips, Starling strolled out onto the busy street, tipping his hat at a passing lady and watching her blush prettily with a smirk.
He didn’t intend to wait around all morning for some dissolute lord who couldn’t drag himself out of bed.
But, he did intend to see Mrs Montrose again.
And this time, she wouldn’t slap him.
Now, he just had to consider how this spark between them would tie into his investigation.
Starling found he wanted to know all Mrs Montrose’s secrets now, and not just for the sake of his employer.
CHAPTER FOUR
That unnerving kissin the dark courtyard had stayed in her thoughts all night long, as Helen tossed and turned in the tangled sheets of her bed with irritation.
Who was this scoundrel that had ruffled her feathers so?And why did she feel a tinge of regret that she hadn’t stayed to find out?
Finally, it was light enough for her to rise, washing and dressing quickly without bothering her maid, and then calling for tea as soon as she heard movement downstairs in the kitchen.
Sipping a bracingly hot cup of Ceylon, Helen decided to pay her friend, Amelia, a call. She was a fixture at the Palais, and if anyone might know who Captain Starling was, and what he was after, it would be her.
It was late afternoon when she lifted the heavy knocker at the door in Grosvenor Square, but Amelianeverrose before noon.
A burly footman opened the door, his jacket straining across a broad back and strong biceps. Helen stifled a smirk as he ushered her upstairs into an intimate parlour.
It was clear thatfootmanwas not the man’s foremost duty in this household.
Amelia did love to surround herself with male beauty at its finest. Her hedonistic approach to life was one of the things that Helen loved about her, as it was rare to find another woman who indulged her desires without giving a fig for what the world thought.
Amelia smiled when Helen appeared in the doorway, waving her in with one pale dainty hand as she lounged in elegant dishabille on a chaise before the fireplace.
“Helen, dearest,” Amelia cooed, rising up to buss her on the cheeks with an extravagant flourish.
The footman moved to pour Helen a glass of sweet wine, as Amelia followed his movements with hungry eyes.
When the man finally left, Helen raised her glass to her friend, a knowing look in her eye.
“You are shameless, Amelia,” she laughed, taking a sip of her drink.
Amelia smirked, fanning herself dramatically as she pretended to ogle the footman’s arse on the way out. “You should let me send some new staff your way, Helen. You have no idea what you are missing out on.”
“Oh, but I do. You have no qualms about telling me all the sordid details, as I recall.”
“La,it is not my fault you don’t allow yourself to have any fun. It is practically expected of a wicked widow such as yourself to indulge in a scandalous affair.”
Helen sighed. This was a familiar debate between them. “Is it my fault there is a dearth of interesting men to be found? Besides, I have other means of getting my satisfaction.”
“Like fleecing Lord Burton at the tables last night?” asked her friend with an amused hitch of her brow.
