John still moved stiffly. His bruises had almost fully healed, but she could see him wince when he took a deep breath, and his hand would go to his lower back any time he’d been on his feet for too long. “I’m still not comfortable with you in their reach,” he said.
Charlotte sighed and patted his shoulder. “I know, but as I’ve said, Brunel expects me to deliver on William’s debts. The last thing we need is for you to hand over the blunt and have him say that I haven’t kept to my end of the deal.”
John didn’t offer a response because she knew he didn’t have a good one. They’d already ascertained that the gambling den proprietor could not be trusted, and Charlotte would not leave any possibility that the money they handed over wouldn’t get them out of Brunel’s grip.
She gave his hand a squeeze as they crossed the road. The door, usually wide open with light spilling out, was firmly closed. They knocked and waited, her heart thumping just a little harder.
It was Private Gray who opened the door. “You’re cutting it fine, aren’t you, my lady?”
John had pulled every string he could to get the funds released quickly. The contracts, signed by his business partners in Abingdale, had arrived that morning by a courier who had ridden through two nights in a row.
Edward’s man of business and the men at the bank had balked at the prospect of delivering the funds to John the same day, but there were benefits to being a viscount and one of those was the ability to insist on unreasonable measures.
“Hello to you too, Private Gray,” Charlotte said. “Is your master in?” She breezed past him, showing no signs of her disquiet.
The casino during the day was a stark difference from the casino at night. In daylight, the furnishings looked tacky, the carpet marred with stains, and the artwork not quite as mesmerizing.
The room had taken her breath away that first night. Now, there was nothing magical about it, particularly not with the ruffians, who normally faded into the shadows, taking pride of place at a table in the center of the room, staring at them.
At its head sat a man in clothes as fine as any lord’s. He had an air of confidence about him, and every person sitting there seemed to defer to him. Brunel, then. He put down his drink and clapped one of his men on the shoulder before approaching Charlotte and John. But despite the way he bore down on them, she couldn’t keep her eyes from flicking toward his men. Their faces were fixed into her memory.
The one at the far end had been the first to hit John. The one to his left had landed the blow across the back of John’s legs that had caused him to keel over. To the left of him was the man whose boot had connected with John’s ribs.
She would not cry. She would not flinch despite the blow those memories landed. She tightened her grip on John’s hand. Looking up, she could see a muscle tic along the edge of his clenched jaw.
No doubt his flashbacks to that night were worse than hers.
“Have you got my money?” Brunel picked at his teeth with a silver quill.
She reached into her reticule and drew out a weighty packet. “Here.” She slapped it into his outstretched hand.
Brunel hefted it and then tossed it to one of the serving girls who was standing nearby. “Count it,” he said.
The cur.“It’s all there. I’m a woman of my word.”
He cocked his head, giving her a disbelieving look. “Given your willingness to play loose with the rules, my lady, you’ll forgive me for not trusting you.”
She stiffened, shame flooding her. Drat it, she hated to be in the wrong.
The serving girl came back and nodded.
“So we’re done then.” It was not a question. She was done deferring to the man.
He grinned. “Come now, m’lady. Is that any way to talk to a man who’s shown such grace? I haven’t even asked for retribution. I don’t like it when people don’t play an honest game. If anyone is going to be dishonest, it will be me.”
“We paid your retribution,” she snapped. “You almost killed him with it.”
John placed a hand on her elbow and drew her back until she was behind him. Letting him do so grated, but she understood why he did it, and she would concede this moment for his sake.
Brunel scowled at John, clearly affronted. “We do not lay hands on women. Not even cheating, sharp-tongued harpies.”
Charlotte started forward, but John’s hand across her hips prevented her from giving Brunel the response he deserved.
John remained infuriatingly cool. “Then you won’t mind that we leave,” John said.
Brunel looked past John to her. “You’re always welcome back, you know. The gentlemen pay little attention to the cards when you’re at the table. You could fold when I say fold, distract when I tell you to distract. We could have ourselves a partnership. Make a tidy sum.”
Her skin shivered at the thought of being in partnership with this man. “Never,” she spat. “Our debts are paid. I look forward to never seeing you again.”
