Alex sat at his desk, brooding.
He didn’t like it one bit, because men who spent time brooding instead of taking decisive action lost great opportunities. But when it came to Angelique Archer, he’d discovered he’d completely lost his way.
For the fifth night in a row since Angelique had donned that turquoise-blue gown, Alex had forced himself to circulate through his club, paying clever compliments to the ladies and making small talk with the gentlemen. It was what he did every night, and he’d always done it with a subtle flair that entertained his guests and amused him. But now it had become a chore.
His eyes had continually strayed to his vingt-et-un table and the woman who sat behind it, cool and composed as a monarch presiding over a court of her favored subjects. He’d set the table up for six players, but the crowd that the table had drawn was at least four times that. The novelty, combined with the beautiful and mysterious dealer, had proven irresistible. He had bloody peers waiting for a chance to play at the table like anxious schoolboys, for God’s sake.
There had been something different about Lady Angelique since the very first moment she had sat down behind that table, something he hadn’t seen in her the times she had gambled here before. She’d worn a small smile on her face that he’d not witnessed before on any of the occasions that he’d watched her play, as if she were privy to some private amusement. Her every movement had been smooth and almost sensual, as if she had suddenly become aware of the power of her physical appearance and was now wielding it with the same confidence she wielded her mind. Her voice never rose above a soft murmur as she dealt, the soft cadence of her speech silky and almost suggestive. The men who sat at that table were mesmerized. They couldn’t seem to get enough.
Alex wasn’t sure what had wrought the change. Perhaps it was because she was no longer trying to remain invisible. Perhaps it was a brief respite from the desperation she had carried with her on those earlier visits.
Or perhaps he was just losing his mind.
He’d certainly lost it when he’d kissed her. Just the thought of the way she’d looked at him in the mirror, her fingers tangled in his hair, her head tipped back, and her eyes hazy with desire had him hard all over again. He’d never brought a woman into his private rooms for any reason. He always kept his sporadic relations with women on neutral ground. He’d seen too many times what happened when sex turned into love turned into jealousy turned into hate. And he had no desire to ever expose himself to that. He would give freely of his body, but not more. Not his privacy, not his thoughts, not his affection.
He was at an absolute loss as to why Angelique was different. Why he had allowed her in. Why he had done anything he’d done in the last five days.
All he knew was that he could no longer look into his cheval mirror without all the blood rushing straight to his groin.
He stood up from behind his desk abruptly, closing the ledger with an irritated thump. There was a reason he never mixed business with pleasure, and this was nothing if not the perfect example. It was distracting. Which meant it was dangerous. He needed his wits sharp, and kissing Angelique Archer was not the way to ensure they remained so.
Lady Angelique, thank God, had let his faux pas slide and had been nothing but the consummate professional. They’d made a bloody fortune that first night and every night since. She’d made a bloody fortune. It had shocked even him, the ease with which she controlled and manipulated that damn table. Granted, many of the players were relatively inexperienced, but that couldn’t account for it all.
She’d arrived punctually every night in his carriage, already dressed for the gaming floor. Her attire should have been a relief, but Alex was instead struck with an irrational sense of regret. He’d found an unholy satisfaction in dressing her once. But dressing Angelique was a task that was no longer his, and Alex now found himself insanely jealous of an old woman called Tildy.
Another reason why one did not mix business with pleasure.
He’d had a second gown made for Angelique—a masterpiece of indigo and silver—and it, even more than the turquoise gown, made her look like a Grecian goddess. And as much as he told himself he was pleased with the effect, he found himself resenting the way every man in his club looked at her. Like they were imagining just what it might be like to peel that damn gown away from her glorious body, stitch by silver stitch.
Alex ignored the fact that he was no better. Because when he wasn’t fantasizing about dressing Angelique, he was fantasizing about undressing her.
His eyes caught a flash of glitter on the corner of his desk. As usual, she’d left the necklace and the diamond-studded mask behind in his care at the end of the night, unwilling to wear them home. She did not wish the risk of them getting stolen, she had said. By her brother was the part that had remained unsaid. He picked up the chain of diamonds and let it slide through his fingers, remembering how they had dripped over her skin and between her incredible breasts. What he would give to see her wearing these. And nothing else.
A new surge of arousal made him groan. He had to stop this or he was never going to be able to walk straight.
He glanced in the direction of his bedroom, the door firmly closed. Normally he would retire to his rooms now. Sleep for the morning and into the early afternoon before rising and attending to whatever business matters were required. But he was far too keyed up to find sleep now. And if he slid between the cool sheets of his bed in this state, he had no doubt his mind would continue to be consumed by Angelique Archer and that he’d be forced to find release by his own hand. He told himself he wasn’t that desperate.
Yet.
“Good Lord, Alex. Did you rob the palace?”
Alex froze, his fingers tightening on the diamonds. “Duchess,” he said, turning around slowly, “I didn’t hear you knock.”
“That’s because I didn’t.” Ivory Moore was standing just inside the hidden door that led out into the alley.
“That door was locked.”
“Was it?” She looked inordinately pleased with herself as she smoothed her plain brown skirts.
“You’ve been practicing.”
“I’ve learned from the best.” She swept across the room to peer over Alex’s shoulder. “That is absolutely stunning.” She reached for the necklace and drew it from his hands with an appreciative murmur. “Are you planning on wooing an empress?” She glanced up at him. “Or have you fallen in love?”
“When hell freezes over on both counts, Duchess.” Alex retrieved the diamonds and placed them, along with the gold mask, in the top drawer of his desk, closing it firmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Ivory’s eyes lingered on the desk drawer. “I come bearing information.”
“I like the sound of that. Don’t keep me in suspense.” He crossed his arms.
She glanced up at him. “What do you know about the Viscount Seaton? Son of the Duke of Rossburn.”
Alex frowned. “Have you been talking to Tall Harris?”
A crease formed between her brows. “No. And it’s Jed.”
“Pardon?”
“The tall Harris brother. His name is Jedediah. Then there’s Theodore, and Frederick is the shortest.”
Alex blinked and swallowed a bark of laughter. “Jed, Ted, and Fred?”
“Who are all probably better than you with a blade,” Ivory admonished with a warning frown. “Don’t be juvenile.”
“I doubt they’re better, but I take your point, Duchess.”
“Good to hear.” She paused. “What does Mr. Harris have to do with Seaton?”
“They are doing a little surveillance work for me, if you recall. Young Gerald has spent a great deal of time with Seaton as of late. In rather insalubrious parts of London, near the docks.”
“For what purpose?”
“Tall— Jed Harris is unsure at the moment. It could be for the thrill of it, or possibly for the cheap gin. Or maybe something else entirely. I’ve requested that they keep watching. Both Hutton and Seaton.”
“Why?”
“Because Hutton seems to lack any sort of intelligence or judgment, and I’m not convinced Seaton isn’t taking advantage of that. And it may be in my best interests to do something about it in the near future.” Alex drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Your turn.”
Ivory leaned against the edge of Alex’s desk. “There are old rumors that tie Seaton to the Archers. Not to the new marquess, but to your new vingt-et-un dealer.”
Alex’s fingers stopped before he forced them to resume. In his mind, he saw Angelique’s visceral response to Seaton’s presence on the night her brother had made his idiotic appearance as a highwayman. At the time, he’d attributed it to the situation. Now he wondered if it was something more. “That’s a rather ambiguous statement, Duchess. Please expand.”
Ivory tipped her head and watched him steadily. “During Lady Angelique’s single season, it was rumored that the Duke of Rossburn and the Marquess of Hutton were flirting with the idea of merging the families by way of marriage.”
“Rumored?”
“The couple, together with their families, was seen together on occasion. Theaters, museums, Rotten Row, the usual public show grounds. Nothing was ever declared or confirmed, but a few individuals drew the obvious conclusions.”
At the time of my season, I’d thought that my future was already—
Angelique never finished her answer when he had first asked her why she’d held herself aloof. Had she believed herself to be betrothed? Had she believed that her future had already been agreed upon? A marriage pact all but consummated?
Or perhaps it had been.
Alex made an effort to relax his jaw that he didn’t remember clenching. “And was this rumored union driven by a mutual affection shared by the young lord and lady, or by usual parental selections based on pedigree and wealth?”
Ivory shot him a curious look. “It wasn’t clear. Does it matter?”
“Maybe,” Alex replied, feigning carelessness he wasn’t quite feeling. “You know me. I always like to know what motivates people. How I might manipulate that to my advantage.”
“You want to know if your lady was in love.” Ivory blinked at him. “Good God. You’re smitten with her.”
“I’m certainly smitten with the amount of money the lady made me recently,” Alex drawled, careful not to sound too defensive. “But I am not interested in Lady Angelique’s emotional state save for what impact it might have on her ability to make me more. I want to know if Seaton was a problem in the past, or if he may become a problem again. I want to know exactly how those families may have been or might yet still be intertwined and if it is something I will need to worry about so long as the lady remains in my employ.”
“Of course.” There was a knowing smirk playing about Ivory’s mouth. “Tell me, did your lady like the diamonds?”
“She is not my lady, she is my employee. An asset to this club. And the diamonds are part of her costume. Same as the mask. In fact, Lady Angelique will be the first person to tell you so.” It sounded stiff.
“Her costume?”
“Yes.”
“Costume implies feathers and bits of pretty paint. Not a fortune in diamonds.”
“Do you have a point here, Duchess?”
“Have you kissed her?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. You know as well as I do that I do not mix business with pleasure.” Alex crossed a booted foot over his leg, his movements casual. Dammit, this woman knew him too well.
“You did,” Ivory breathed. “You aren’t smitten, you’re completely besotted.”
“We’re done discussing this.” He paused. “Tell me what became of this rumored union between the Hutton and Rossburn titles.”
Ivory was still watching him.
Alex stared silently back.
“Oh, very well.” She straightened and trailed her fingers along the spine of one of the accounting ledgers sitting on his desk. “Nothing became of it. The Marchioness of Hutton fell ill, and it is accepted that Angelique Archer withdrew from society to care for her mother in her last months of life. Lady Angelique did not return to society after her mother’s death.”
“And Seaton abandoned his lady in her hour of need?”
Ivory shrugged. “That is something you will have to ask the lady directly if you wish to know. Or Seaton himself.”
“Mmmm.” Angelique had never mentioned Seaton. Not after that first disastrous night, not in her description of her failed season.
At the time, I thought a husband was what I wanted.
Seaton?
Had the man kissed her? Touched her?
There was a rather foreign and unpleasant sensation roiling through him at the thought of Angelique kissing another man, and it took a moment for him to identify it. Possessive jealousy.
He quashed it ruthlessly. What Seaton did or did not do in the past with Lady Angelique did not signify. It was the present that concerned Alex, and what, exactly, Seaton’s role in it might be. And whatever his relationship with Lady Angelique, it was his relationship with the dissolute and current Marquess of Hutton that had his instincts on edge.
“What about the missing fortune?” he asked, trying to distract himself.
“Society, as far as I can determine, still believes the Hutton title to be synonymous with money. However, it wasn’t long after his wife fell ill that the old marquess started selling the Hutton holdings. That seems to have marked the start of their slide into financial misfortune, while interestingly enough, the Rossburn family has since flourished.”
“Flourished?”
“Five years ago there were rumors about money troubles within the Rossburn duchy, but since then, Rossburn has assembled a stable full of racehorses, built a staggering collection of Renaissance paintings, purchased a grand townhome in Mayfair, and bought a castle somewhere near Swindon. The duke and his duchess are known now for hosting lavish balls, garden parties, and other entertainments—the type of events that Prinny attends.”
“Coincidence?”
Ivory shrugged. “Coincidences in our business are about as common as leprechauns. You know that.”
“Mmmm.”
“That being said, I could find nothing that proved or disproved that it was, in fact, a coincidence. Alderidge offered to investigate further, but I declined. Once a duke starts asking questions, no matter how carefully, someone sits up and takes notice. My husband and his position are helpful in some cases and a complete liability in others.”
“I appreciate that, Duchess. As much as he holds my regard, I don’t need a ducal pirate mucking about in my affairs.” He paused. “Where is your dear Davy Jones at the moment?”
“Alderidge is at the docks.”
“A kraken attack one of his ships?”
Ivory heaved a theatrical sigh, though she was smiling. “Goodbye, Alex.” She crossed the room to the hidden door.
“Leaving so soon?”
“There’s nothing further I can tell you.” She pressed the latch, and the door swung open silently, the shadows of the alley visible just beyond. “If you really want answers, you should be talking with your lady instead of kissing her.”
Alex would have argued except Ivory was already gone, the door closing as silently as it had opened.
He stalked across the room and back, feeling restless and dissatisfied. First impressions had left him with little regard and even less respect for George Fitzherbert, but there were many men like him who Alex did not trouble himself with.
But those men were not linked to Angelique Archer, a little voice whispered in his head.
Alex paced back to the long bookshelves that lined the far wall. He was aware he was teetering on the edge of behaving like a jealous swain, and that revelation was not sitting well. He needed to focus on the facts. Ivory was probably right. The procurement of answers did not need to be so convoluted. He would ask Lady Angelique. Before she stepped out onto his gaming floor once more, he would try and discover exactly what he might be dealing with. What sort of skeletons might not only fall out of closets onto his floor but bite him in the arse afterward.
There was a sharp rap on the alley door and Alex whirled, reaching for the latch.
“Forget something, Duchess?” he began, only to realize it wasn’t Ivory but Jed Harris who stood in the doorway, his hat once again in his hands and his face once again grim. “Mr. Harris.”
“’Mornin’, Mr. Lavoie,” Jed replied.
“You must be here for payment.” No doubt young Hutton was finally passed out somewhere by now. Hopefully in the vicinity of his home and not in a pile of offal in a rookery somewhere. Alex peered past Jed’s lanky frame into the murky morning light of the alley. “Your brothers with you?”
Jed shook his head. “No.” He dropped a hand and rested it on the hilt of his sword. “Theodore is still watching the viscount’s house. But Fred is at the Tower.”
“The Tower.” Alex frowned slightly in incomprehension. “Why?”
“The Marquess of Hutton is currently at the Tower.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Tell me he didn’t lock himself in one of the lion cages and pass out.” That was something Alex had no trouble imagining Hutton would do. No doubt he would have thought it funny. At least until he got mauled.
“No. Not the lion cages.”
“Oh God. Martin’s cage then?”
“Who?” Jed looked perplexed.
“The grizzly bear. It’s called Martin. Did Martin eat Hutton?”
“No. His lordship is not at the menagerie. Nor did he, ah, get eaten by anything.”
Alex leaned on the door. “Then I don’t understand. Why is he at the Tower?”
“Because, Mr. Lavoie,” Jed explained, “the Marquess of Hutton has been arrested.”