I’ve got to get it together. I don’t need Emmett. I can do this all by myself. “I’m afraid I’ve rolled my ankle,” I lie. “Can you take a look?”
“Of course,” he answers.
The others glare as he walks me inside and lowers me to a chair. He kneels at my feet and reaches under the lilac purple layers of my skirts to rotate the joint a few times. “Does that hurt?” he asks.
“I think I’ll survive,” I answer. “This party is awfully dull. Is there somewhere else we can go?”
He glances around. “A few of the men were talking about leaving for the club.”
Every gentleman in London belongs to a private club where they gather to dine, drink, and gamble.
I hop up and walk toward the line of carriages in the drive. “Then let’s go.”
Bram smiles. “Lead the way.” I grin. I didn’t actually expect him to say yes. He holds my hand as we hop into the carriage out front, no sense of hesitation in him.
Once inside, Bram sighs against the plush seats and pulls my ankle into his lap. “It’s good to keep it elevated,” he explains.
“Do your healing powers extend to twisted ankles?”
He smirks. “But that’s so much less fun than this.” He trails a finger around the hollow of my ankle. Warmth pools in my belly and my cheeks flush.
“I never got the chance to properly thank you for the book.” I change the topic, so nervous suddenly, it’s difficult to look him in the eye.
The corners of his mouth tug into a smile. “I’m just pleased to have the opportunity to do something for you.”
“Where did you get it?” I’m too curious not to ask.
“An old friend.”
The carriage slows as we approach his club. Like the other members of the royal family, Bram belongs to Kendall’s, which on the outside looks like any number of the luxurious town houses in Mayfair, but covers the whole city block.
I heard a rumor that the owner, Lord Bexham, used his bargain for better house odds and gave up his hair. He denies it, but I’ve seen him without a hat, and I’m inclined to believe it.
I crane my head as I follow Bram, taking it all in. The box beam ceilings are dotted with crystal chandeliers, the walls are coveredin art depicting hunting dogs and elegant horses. Women generally aren’t allowed in places like this, but no one is going to say that to the Prince of Wales. Tomorrow the gossip mill will be set alight by news of my being here, and for once I can’t wait. Let the whole town know I’m his favorite.
“Should I call for dinner?” he asks. “We can use one of the private rooms.”
I muster every bit of false confidence I have. This needs to be as public as possible. “No. I want you to teach me to play poker.” Bram looks down at me and grins.
The cardroom goes silent as I walk in on his arm.
I smile sweetly and blink away the cigar smoke burning my eyes. Bram knows everyone. He circles the room, clapping men on their shoulders.
“How’s your wife?” he asks a younger-looking man in a top hat.
“Better, thank you, Your Majesty.”
I look up at Bram. “What did you do?”
“I sent a private physician to check on his wife. It was nothing, just a friendly favor.”
Another man approaches. “My mother-in-law loved the azalea bush you had planted. Positively cannot stop talking about it.”
Bram waves his hands like it’s nothing. “Give her my best.”
“His mother-in-law?” I whisper under my breath.
“The Duchess of Marlborough. A mostly bedbound widow but an absolute genius at puzzles. I stop by from time to time. Thought I’d give her something nice to look at from her window.”
