Charlotte shifted her wager forward, an amount so high John’s mouth went dry. If they were going to work together in this, they needed a mutual understanding of acceptable risk versus reward. Whether or not she knew it, her success was entirely in the hands of the house.
Thankfully, they both won, and then John pushed back his chair. “This game is so frightfully dull, even when you win. Who wants to play whist?”
The dealer frowned. “You’ve only just started, my lord. It’s poor form to cut and run.”
John shook his head. “Don’t worry, chap. The house has plenty of time to get me elsewhere.” Not that he would give them the opportunity. The only games he’d play tonight were the ones he could win with mathematics.
“Mrs. Brown, care to be my partner?”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “That’s very forward of you, my lord. We’ve only just met.” Her eyes sparkled. Clearly, she was loving every minute of the deception.
“And yet the devil on my shoulder is telling me you’re the angel I need tonight.” Two could play at this charade.
She leaned forward, giving him a view of her that made his cock twitch. She put a hand on his and he had to remind himself to breathe. “Well, I can hardly disappoint the devil now, can I?” she said breathlessly. Completely unaware of the wreck her flirtation was making of him, she hailed the footman stationed by their table so he could carry her winnings.
The dealer’s countenance deflated, but he put on a false smile that almost disappeared behind his mustache and said teasingly, “You are on such a hot streak, Mrs. Brown. Are you sure that Lady Luck will follow you to another table?”
Charlotte gave the dealer the kind of smile that felled men. “Thank you so much for your company, Mr. Smith. Perhaps I will find my way back to you again.”
The dealer’s ears turned red and instead of returning to the game at hand, he watched her retreat, a somewhat lovelorn expression on his face.
The other men at the table gave John filthy looks. “That was hardly sporting, Harrow,” Lord Berridge said. “You’ve stolen our entertainment.”
His words made John seethe. Charlotte was so much more than a man’s entertainment. She was kind and intelligent and loyal. She’d been playing every man at the table including the dealer and not one had picked up on it. She was bold and strategic and possessed of a confidence he could only dream of having.
She was a blessing, and John felt an urge to drag the man from his chair by his lapels and make him grovel at her feet. But all that would do would ensure eyes were on them all night, and he and Charlotte needed to play beneath people’s notice as much as possible.
Instead, John pointed to Berridge’s dwindling pot. “If you don’t turn your attention to your cards, Berridge, you risk being the entertainment for the rest of us.”
Berridge’s face turned red, and he blustered. Before he could find his words, though, John strolled after Charlotte, trying to match her carefree demeanor as she approached two men lounging by the whist tables, each with a brandy in hand.
John recognized one from the ball he’d attended the other night—Lord Salter. John’s heart rate surged. How terrifyingly audacious of her to sit across from a man who knew her face well. Surely, her charade would be uncovered now.
But Salter gestured to one of the empty seats and she lounged, filling the armchair like a silk nightgown thrown over it before lovemaking. It was sensual and self-assured and completely at odds with the bright, proper young woman that the lords knew. It was enough to fool them, apparently.
Heat pooled in his stomach. He didn’t know how much of this woman in front of him was an act and how much of it was a part of Charlotte that was reveling in this opportunity to be free of the constraints of a proper young lady.
He took the empty seat opposite her, let Lord Salter introduce him to his playing mate, and then settled in, trying hard to rein in his senses so that his mind could do its job.
Salter dealt the cards. John looked at his hand—it was reasonable. Definitely something that could be worked with. He looked over at Charlotte, who gave him the briefest, most wicked of smiles.
These lords were about to be trounced.
***
“That was amazing.” Charlotte didn’t have the patience to wait for John to take his seat in the carriage. They had been the perfect pair, even more so than when they played in a drawing room. It was as though he could read her mind. Not only had he been so attuned to her that he knew exactly what her hand was and what the next play should be, he ran with her story, never once giving any sign that she wasn’t Mrs. Brown or that they’d never met. Never had she felt somatched. Of course they won. How could they not?
And lord, she loved winning. She loved winning more than she loved lemon ices and a ballroom crush. She loved it more than Almack’s, or rather, she loved Almack’s because it was a playing field on which to win. Every person in attendance kept score of who danced with whom, who danced the most, who received the most admiring nods from the patronesses.
If the patronesses had been in The Lucky Honeypot that evening, they would have applauded once they’d overcome their seizure, because she and John had beat everyone in the most elegant manner.
“Amazing? That was incredibly foolish,” he replied, but the censure in his tone was unconvincing, distracted. His eyes were alight; the heat of his gaze burned into her.
“But it worked.” They had won two thousand pounds.Two thousand pounds.Only a handful more nights and she could pay back William’s debt. Only a month or so of this and they could pull John’s estate out of trouble. If they sold some more of her jewelry, salvation could be even sooner.
“It worked.” His expression didn’t change. He continued to look at her as though she were a doe and he were a wolf. As though she was something he wanted very, very badly. She hadn’t missed the way his eyes had dropped to her cleavage throughout the night, or the way his gaze had lingered on her lips, the way it was doing now.
Lord, it was hot in the carriage. She pulled her coat away from her body, hoping the night air would cool her. Instead, the sudden draft caused her heightened senses to leap into life.
