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Toreassure her, Fletcher leaned forward and touched her hand on the table.

Thegesture surprised her, and she widened her eyes. However, the jolt of sensation racing up his forearm to his shoulder nearly made him yelp.

“It’s not the most elaborate plan, Siobhan, but I think it might work.”

“You’ve worked it all out, haven’t you?” She pulled the blanket snugger around her shoulders despite the July afternoon’s heat. “I may not have a choice, but I still don’t trust you.”

Trustwas a perverse thing, too easily given, and often proved a double-edged sword.

“Then we are well matched.” Fletcher set his silverware down, the merest hint of exasperation in the abrupt gesture. “Because, SiobhanKenney, I don’t trust you either. However, we must put aside our differences and have faith in each other to pull this off.”

Shesearched his face, all her doubts and misgivings parading across her features.

Whatwould he do if she refused?

Shemustn’t.

“Agreed?” Fletcher extended his hand.

Herfocus shifted from his hand to his face and back to his hand before, after another heartbeat, she slid her delicate palm into his. He could break the fragile bones by squeezing too hard.

“Agreed.”

Eight

Dela Chance main gaming salon

ONE WEEK LATER

Siobhancould scarcely credit the transformation in her appearance this past week or the treatment by the other employees when she’d entered the salon on LordDariusWestbrook’s arm.

“You’re doing splendidly,” LordDarius said as he guided her to ViscountHuxley’s table. Tonight, the viscount wore the most remarkable shade of eye-blistering yellow. He seemed to disdain society’s dictates and wore whatever color he pleased. With his aquiline nose, paunch, and padded chest and shoulders, he resembled an oversized canary.

Accordingto Fletcher, this made five nights in a row Huxley and his lady had attended De la Chance. He was certain their frequent presence portended something ominous.

Acrossthe room, Siobhan met Fletcher’s gaze.

Themerest dip of his chin indicated it was time to put their plan in motion.

LadyHuxley, wearing a scandalously low turquoise gown accented by a diamond parure set and peacock feathers in her intricately coiffed hair, sent Fletcher a seductress’s invitation with her eyes.

Frombeneath hooded eyelids, he returned her perusal and answered her bidding with a smoldering upward flare of his firm mouth.

Siobhan’sstomach performed a queer flip at the interaction.

I am not jealous. Absurd. Preposterous.

Fletcher’s doing what needs be done.

That is all.

LadyHuxley’s eyes flared wide as a pleased pout teased her mouth, and she glided forth like the proverbial moth to a flame. She had no idea she wouldn’t emerge uncharred.

Herladyship took the bait like a fat, brown trout gobbling a wriggling worm.

Andthus, the plan to ensnare the Huxleys was launched.

Siobhanprayed silently that the scheme would work because she didn’t know if she could pretend to be a lady night after night. She’d memorized an entire back story—all of which was absolute codswallop—in case Huxley or another guest became inquisitive. None of the details could be verified or dismissed.