John shrugged. “Less luck and more six weeks of nonstop playing on the sea crossing back home.”
Hailson grunted. “Don’t take us down too hard, chap. We’re all only just getting the hang of this.”
“Except Mrs. Brown. She’s won almost as much as you have.”
Charlotte ducked her head and fluttered her eyelashes. “I must have been a very good girl at some point for fortune to favor me so tonight.” She leaned forward, elbow on the table, hand cupping her chin, breasts threatening to spill from her neckline.
The men’s attention was suddenly focused elsewhere, their eyes practically glazing over, and that damning thread of conversation was effectively snipped.
“Perhaps it’s time to call it a night then, Mrs. Brown,” John said. “Luck is a fickle mistress. I’d hate for her to turn on you.”
Charlotte pouted and John couldn’t tell how much of it was an act. He smiled tightly, not allowing a measure of his annoyance to show. She’d amassed a small fortune—more than they’d won all other nights combined, as had he. They needed to leave before any of the other players questioned his skills and her luck.
“One more hand,” she implored.
“You’ve more courage than I have,” John responded. “I shan’t tempt fate any longer.” He downed the rest of his drink and gave his chips to a nearby footman. “Good night, my lords. Mrs. Brown.” He bowed. His heart rate quickened as he walked away from the table, trusting that she would follow whether or not she wanted to. Surely she would.
He had an ill feeling in his gut. Charlotte had been reckless. Her cheating had been subtle and her outrageous flirting had blinded the other players to it. But Charlotte had forgotten that there were more people in the gaming hell than just the players she sat with.
Other than the dealer, who had given no signal that aught was amiss, at least ten employees had their eyes roving across the room. It was their job to know everything that was going on. Charlotte may have fooled the players of the game, but she may not have fooled all those who ran it.
Which was why he was loath to leave her alone, even for a few minutes. Instead of walking farther up the street and waiting for her there, John stayed outside the building, leaning against the wall by the window where he could see what was happening inside.
Clearly unhappy, Charlotte finished her glass of brandy and left it on the edge of the table. She exchanged her chips for cash, flicking through the stack and then tucking it into her reticule, leaving aside a handful of notes, which she distributed among the serving girls as she left. Charlotte’s generous tipping was one reason she was so well attended to by the staff.
The majordomo helped her with her coat, and she walked out of the building without incident. As she stepped into a pool of lamplight and raised her hand to hail a nearing hackney, John released the breath that had gone stale as he’d watched her leave.
She didn’t notice him until he was climbing into the hack beside her. She gasped, hand to her throat, and exhaled heavily when she realized it was him, giving him a gentle thwack on the arm. “John, you terrified me.”
The soft laugh she gave as she took off her mask loosened all the buckles that had tightened within him the moment he’d first seen her marking the cards. She was safe. He took her face in both hands and kissed her fiercely. “You terrifiedme,” he said as the carriage jolted into motion. “What were you thinking?”
A crease formed between Charlotte’s brows. “I was thinking that I didn’t want to be doing this every night for the next month. I was thinking that we both have problems we need resolved immediately. And it worked.”
She reached into her reticule and pulled out a fistful of money and then another fistful. “John, it’s done. It’s over. Between the money we have in your safe, this money here, and my dowry, we have enough to repay all of your debts, and William’s. It’s over.” She sagged against the wall of the carriage, a relieved smile on her face.
John looked at the wads of notes in her hands. It was their freedom, of sorts. Not the freedom he’d gone into the scheme fighting for. He wouldn’t be returning to America. Instead, he had a different freedom. His estates would soon be set to rights, he would employ trustworthy stewards to execute the bulk of the management so that he could focus his efforts on his work with the firm, and he would wake up every day next to the woman of his dreams.
It wasn’t what he’d originally planned, but his original plans seemed cold and lifeless now. Charlotte had changed everything.
She was looking at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her hands curled tightly around the money as she waited for a response.
“It’s over.” He leaned across the seat, one hand grazing over the jeweled pins in her hair as he pressed his lips against hers, the other hand wrapping around her waist. Even through the layers of petticoats, dress, and coat, he could feel the spark that existed between them. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered. “Dickey has always known what levers to push to get a reaction from me.”
Charlotte shifted until she was sitting on his lap, her coat open, her breasts pressed against his jacket, her fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry I scared you,” she said kissing his cheek, his jaw, his lips. “Let’s forget about it.”
The scent of her overwhelmed him. As her arse moved against his cock, he considered taking her then and there. “Charlotte, you are exquisite.” He nuzzled her neck, licking and nipping at her soft skin until her moan threatened to undo him. She arched her back and his attention turned to her breasts, barely contained by the low neckline of her dress. He brought a hand up to massage them, kneading them firmly, a thrill going through him at the way she gasped.
He nudged at the lace of her neckline and when her breast sprang free, he took it in his mouth, sucking at it, grazing her nipple with his teeth, feeling his cock throb in response. He reached between them, unbuttoning his breeches.
“John.” Her fingers pulled hard at his hair, the pain adding to the intensity of his feelings.
The carriage jolted to a halt. Charlotte’s eyes, still dazed, slowly focused, and a crease formed between her brows. “Surely we aren’t home already?”
It took a moment for her words to sink through the fog of desire. Then all breath left him. His stomach pulled itself into tight knots. Instinct told him what this was—what was about to happen. He put a finger to his lips.
Charlotte’s confused expression didn’t alter, but she seemed to understand that something was amiss as she shifted off of his lap and quickly rearranged her clothing, pulling her neckline back to where it should be.
He leaned across her to the window on the carriage wall opposite the door and pulled aside the curtain just far enough to see that they were nowhere near Mayfair. By the look of the surrounding buildings, the lack of streetlamps, and the unpaved road, they were in a seedier part of the city.
