Six months later

Olivia sat in the library, running her fingers along the spines of books lining her father’s shelves. There were hundreds in his expansive collection, and she had read nearly all that interested her. Having finished her column for the day, she had good intentions of doing additional research of the latest financial journals, but none could keep her attention. She was itching to do something — something different, outside of her everyday life and what was expected of her.

She had taken on this column to do more than what was conventional for young ladies in society. It provided her an outlet for all of her thoughts and ideas, which no one else would listen to, and she enjoyed having a purpose. And yet … and yet she still felt as if something was wanting, that she needed something more.

She sighed. How she longed to be able to put her own financial advice into action. She had little money of her own to spend, no more than a small allowance for frivolities. It hardly seemed fair when she had a more than generous dowry awaiting the husband who never seemed to be coming.

If only she were a man. Then she could come and go as she pleased, to the clubs and the bars and the gambling hells where she knew she would not just spend money, but win it. She had a way with numbers, and anyone who had ever played cards with her soon refused to again as she was near to unbeatable but for games of chance. She remembered the numbers and suits of the cards — they flowed through her head as they were dropped onto the card table. In games such as whist, she knew what had been thrown and what was to come. She knew what sequences were available, and what others were likely holding onto by the hands they played.

Why was it that a gentleman could throw away every last pound, while if she were ever caught stepping foot into such a place she would be ruined? It was so very unfair.

The more she thought of the possibilities of gambling, the more it stirred something inside of her. What fun it would be to truly possess the identity of another for just a night, to get a taste of what a man must feel. She knew she could never make her way into a gentlemen’s club or a gambling hell. But there were private parties which women attended. Not typically young, unmarried ladies, however, but women. She realized what might happen if anyone found out, but perhaps it was worth the risk…

She jumped when the door to the library opened. It was the butler, Jenkins, advising that her presence was required in the drawing room immediately.

Her mother wanted to see her. Well, that should make this day more interesting. She walked through the expansive halls lined with portraits of her ancestors, the former earls and their families, many of whom had walked these very same corridors. What were their hopes and dreams? Their reasons to be? Was it simply to wander this house themselves, have more children and continue to populate the family line? It was very likely, at least for the women of the family.

She put aside her musings as she entered the drawing room, where her mother sat waiting for her amongst the overstuffed, impossibly uncomfortable furniture.

“Mother, whatever is on your head?” blurted Olivia, who came to a stop in astonishment as she took a step through the door.

“A hat,” her mother bit out the words. “Lady Bramford was wearing one the other day and I simply had to have one myself. She said it was the very latest.”

“You look like a peacock.”

Her mother’s face tightened, but she refused to allow Olivia to affect her composure.

“I did not call you here to discuss my attire,” she said, showing no reaction other than a slight tick at the corner of her eye. Olivia wondered how her mother managed to keep the rest of her facial features from moving along with her lips.

“Olivia. You have been out for five seasons now. Five! It is well past the acceptable time for you to be married. Your father may allow you your girlish dreams of love and such, but it’s high time you realized that’s just what they are — foolish thoughts of a young girl, which you no longer are. I’ve been far too lenient with you. You will find a husband this season, and therefore allow your sister to do so as well.”

Olivia had been rolling her eyes at her mother’s words until she mentioned her sister, and a roil of guilt flowed through her. She knew it wasn’t quite fair to Helen. It did not seem right that Helen should have to wait for Olivia to find a match before she would receive interest herself. But what was Olivia to do?

“That’s all very well, Mother, but you cannot force me to marry.”

“Can I not?”

“No,” Olivia said, holding her head high and staring her mother in the eye. “Besides, no one wants me anymore, anyway.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “We can change that. I’ll speak to your father about increasing your dowry. That should bring the young lords running once again.”

“You shall do no such thing,” Olivia challenged back. “I refuse to marry a fortune hunter who will then set me aside for the rest of our days. Change the dowry all you like. I will not give into your wishes.”

“We shall see about that, daughter,” her mother said back, her eyes glinting with a new steel to them that caught Olivia off balance, and she whirled around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Olivia’s mind raced back to her previous thoughts on the adventure that could await her if she stepped out of her world and into another. She could be found out — but did she care?

What was the worst that could happen — her reputation would be further ruined and she would remain a spinster forever? She knew that at some point, when her father passed, the title and the house would go into the hands of a relation, but her father would always ensure she was well cared for. If she was going to live a life alone … why not live that life well?

* * *

She told Rosalind of her idea that afternoon. Not surprisingly, Rosalind was shocked, though her green eyes shone with unspoken excitement.

“I hardly know what to say, Olivia,” she said as they sat in the parlor of her parents’ home, “I know what I should say. I should tell you this is a foolish idea and you should never, ever consider it.”

“And yet?”

“And yet it seems like quite an adventure, though a very scandalous one at that,” said Rosalind with a sly grin and a bit of pink in her cheeks. “Nevertheless, it is dangerous, Olivia. I’m sure you shall run into men who will know who you are.”

Olivia gave a curt nod of her head.

“Understood. That’s why I’ll be wearing a disguise. Oh, and I’ve sent a note to Billy to ask him to accompany me.”

“Oh Olivia, do not do that to poor Mr. Tell,” said Rosalind, strain showing in her pretty features. “He’s always had a weakness for you. You know he sees you as the sister he never had, and therefore will doing anything for you, even when he knows it’s a fool-brained idea.”

“He will not do anything for me!” Olivia argued. “We’ve simply always had a similar sense of adventure.”

Rosalind sighed. “You shall ruin the poor man.”

Olivia thought on it for a moment and then responded, “You are absolutely right, Rosalind.” Her friend smiled back at her, happy she had come to her senses so quickly. But her heart soon dropped as Olivia followed up with, “I shall just have to go without him then.”

“Olivia…” Rosalind warned.

“I’ll be going only for a couple of hours one evening. Simply to see how I would fare at the tables.”

“I still do not understand how you plan to escape discovery.”

“Through my disguise.”

“Will you dress as a man?” asked Rosalind.

“No, although that is quite a good idea,” she said, and Rosalind emitted a rather unladylike groan. “However, the venue I have in mind is equally welcoming to women as to men, though not to unmarried society ladies. I believe it will be much easier to look like one of the women who frequent such parties.”

“A prostitute?” Rosalind looked at her in horror.

“No, Ros, not at a private party. Perhaps if I were going to another type of establishment, but that may be a bit much, even for me,” responded Olivia with smile at her. “Many women gamble at these parties, Rosalind, just not the women that you keep company with. I’ll go as a gambling woman. I will slightly alter my appearance so no one will realize who I am.”

Rosalind looked like she might be sick.

“I would go with you, simply to keep you out of trouble. But … ”

“But you are betrothed to Lord Brecken, and I could never ask you to do something that might jeopardize your future,” finished Olivia, though she wished Rosalind would let go of the man who seemed an incredible bore and far too self-assured. “No, Rosalind, I will do this myself. It will be quite fine, you shall see.”

* * *

“Ah Billy!” Olivia welcomed the man who entered the parlor with a friendly embrace and a kiss on each cheek. She had sent word to him that he should call on her to discuss plans for the evening, and he had come rather quickly, much sooner than she had anticipated. It was lovely to see him, as they had always got on well. Despite the closeness of their families, her parents had never attempted to arrange a match between them, as her mother had set her sights higher than a second son for Olivia. That was very well, however, as they had never any feeling toward one another except a close friendship, and both had always wanted more than that in marriage. Though, she supposed, were there to come a time when neither had found the love they were looking for and they each required a spouse, well … perhaps.

“What trouble are you looking to find today, Olivia?” he asked, sitting on the sofa and crossing one leg over the other, his deep blue eyes looking at her from under his mop of tawny brown hair.

They had known one another since they were young, as their families were neighbors in the country and their London townhomes not far from one another. They had found much mischief together as children, and neither had lost that spirit.

“I should like to go gambling,” she said with a smile.

“Gambling? At a party?”

“I should like to play cards for more than simply fun and pastime, Billy,” she said, standing impatiently. “You know how good I am. I would like to actually play, against true gamblers, for legitimate coin.”

He looked at her uneasily, sitting up now from his nonchalant slouch and leaning towards her, elbows on knees. “Olivia, you know, I am not certain this is a good idea…” he started, but she interrupted him.

“Billy. It will be fine. I shan’t go to a gambling hell. That was my original idea, you know. Is there anywhere else that might be suitable? I had thought perhaps one of the noble homes that has been opened to gamblers. I shall go in disguise so no one will know me. And before you say no, if you do not wish to provide me with any information as to where to go, I shall have to find such a place myself.”

He looked heavenward as if asking for help before looking at her with a sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “There is a permanent establishment in the home of Lady Atwood. There is supposed to be quite the crowd tonight.”

“Lady Atwood?”

“Yes, her husband passed and she had always been somewhat of a gambler, so she decided to make further profits off it by becoming the bank herself.”

“Interesting,” said Olivia, her eyes gleaming. “Perhaps I have a future after all, should I never find a husband to suit me. Do you have directions to her house?”

“I shall take you there tonight,” he said with resignation.

“No, Billy, I will go myself. I cannot ask you to do such a thing.”

“Olivia, I refuse to allow you to go alone. I will accompany you or you will not go at all.” He gave her a look that told her he would not be taking no for an answer on this particular subject.

“Fine,” she said. “I shall fake a headache to allow myself time to prepare. I will meet you at the servant’s entrance at ten. Oh, this will be such fun!”

Billy smiled at her excitement as he surrendered to her wishes, though he didn’t seem quite as thrilled as he shook his head, opened the door, and took his leave.

* * *

“Ack!”

Billy jumped in the air, letting out a shout, as Olivia poked him in the back.

“Shhhh,” she whispered. “You’ll wake everyone with shouts like that!”

“Well, you gave me a fright, appearing as you did so suddenly behind me,” he responded, his hand at his chest as if to slow his racing heart. “What in the blazes are you wearing?”

She had tucked her recognizable golden blonde hair up underneath a black wig, which she topped with a satin Mameluke turban, unlike anything she would ever truly wear. She felt nearly as silly as her mother with the wide ostrich feather hanging beside her face. She had gone down to the shops earlier that day to find a few pieces to wear tonight and had been quite pleased with what she had found. She had kept most of it hidden from the maid and the footman who accompanied her, as she did not trust them not to say anything to her mother.

Instead of the usual white or pastel gown she typically donned for an evening out, tonight she wore a dress of fine silk in a deep red. It was much lower cut than any dress worn by most respectable unmarried young ladies, revealing an ample amount of her bosom. She would often wear a tucker with such a dress for modesty, but not tonight.

Billy’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, as he looked her up and down, from her satiny slippers to the feather bobbing on top of her head.

“You look … that is to say, you are…” Olivia smiled slyly as he couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Perfect,” she said. “It seems I have the desired effect. Now, no carriage for us tonight, as it will be recognizable. We shall have to hail a hackney.”

He nodded, agreeing with her, and set out down the road to find one. It came quickly, and he gave the driver the address, which was not particularly far. Her heart raced with excitement as they seated themselves inside. It had been some time since she had done something so carefree and reckless, and she was exhilarated. She loved adventure, something that was in short supply in her life. And she really wasn’t traveling far. She was still within the neighborhoods of London she typically frequented, though she did realize they were coming to the outskirts of what could be considered safe for a woman of her station.

She jiggled the small reticule holding her few coins in her lap as she leaned back against the squabs and looked out the window. She hadn’t much to gamble with, but it would be a start. She had spent the afternoon studying the game of whist. She had, of course, played many times in the past, but never in a serious fashion, rather more to while away the hours at a party or such other gathering. This was with true players, for real money, and she couldn’t wait.