For now.
He did not mean to give up. There was something about her that touched a part of him of which he’d been unaware. He liked the feeling, but at the same time knew he had to go slow. No woman had ever captured his interest for more than a few nights in his bed the way she did. Since he was treading in unknown territory, it was best to give Amelia time to trust him.
He knew there was something she was running from, possibly dangerous, and he was not mistaken that something had upset her last night. He tried to remember what he and Dante had been talking about at the time, but all he recalled was going over the names and numbers of those indebted to the club.
He stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Good morning, Amelia.” It occurred to him that most likely Margie had only purchased one dress and she certainly could not wear that every day. “For as lovely as that frock is, I do believe you will need more than one. In fact, there might be other things that she did not purchase for you. Can I escort you to Bond Street to do some shopping this morning?”
At first, she sucked in a deep breath, her face growing pale, beginning to shake her head, then she stopped and seemed to reconsider. “Yes. Actually, if you don’t mind advancing more of my wages, there are some other things I could use.”
He was quite surprised that she was willing to go out in public but was happy to oblige. “Excellent. After we eat, we can take the carriage to Bond Street.”
She smiled and his heart took an extra thump. He quickly attempted to rein in his enthusiasm. Until he knew more about Amelia, he really needed to keep his heart protected.
They enjoyed their breakfast with his new employee admitting she was both anxious and excited to begin training for her job. She let slip that she’d never held a job before which was no surprise since he’d already classified her as a lady. It still confused him as to why he did not know her. At least by name. But he was not at all familiar with a Pence family.
That was another reason to believe she had given him a false name. But she was willing to accompany him to Bond Street, so he might file that information away for future consideration.
Amelia wiped her mouth with her napkin and placed it alongside her place. “If you will give me a minute, I will join you downstairs for our trip.”
“I shall be waiting on the game room floor. It’s about time you paid a visit to where you will be working.”
* * *
Amelia hurried away from Driscoll and headed to the bedroom to retrieve her hat. An outdated bonnet, it was one she’d borrowed from a maid. She had been grateful to Margie for buying her the few items she had, but as a lady, Amelia felt she was not properly dressed to go out without a hat and gloves, neither of which Margie purchased.
She’d almost fainted from anxiety when Driscoll first mentioned going on a shopping trip, until she remembered Randolph and his cohorts never rose before the sun was about to set. She had plenty of time to visit stores and buy a few things without the fear of being recognized. A few more items would make her life easier while she stayed at the club.
After adjusting the sorry hat, smoothing her hair, pinching her cheeks and biting her lips--she didn’t know why—yes, she did—she left to meet Driscoll downstairs.
Her first glimpse of the game floor overwhelmed her. Even with the staff cleaning up from the night before, and the club empty of members, it still left her a bit giddy. She wove her way through the gaming tables, apologizing to the people who were cleaning and straightening up. They were a friendly group, all of them offering her a smile.
Although she hadn’t noticed at first, it eventually came to her attention that a few of the female employees dipped a curtsey to her. How did they know?
When she thought on it, her place in society would be apparent. She’d been born Lady Amelia, daughter of the Marquess of Salisbury. Her mother had raised her daughter in the manner that behooved the station to which she’d been born, which meant a governess to teach her, and tutors for other things necessary for a lady. Young Amelia had also been trained in deportment, watercolors, embroidery, pianoforte, and dancing. All had been in expectation of making her way into London Society at the appropriate time.
Then her mother died when Amelia was thirteen years. Money that should have come to her and her mother was used to pay the tremendous debts her father had accrued in his lifetime. The entailed properties passed to a young cousin who never made an appearance in all the time she and her mother lived there after her father’s death.
After a decent year of mourning, Mother married Lord Newton, who took a liking to Amelia. However, after Mother died, he went into a decline, leaving Amelia to her own resources. He never arranged for the debut her mother had prepared her for, and passed away two years ago, consigning her to Randolph’s clutches.
“The carriage is in front when you are ready,” Driscoll said. He’d come up behind her without her even noticing.
She spun around, feeling like a young girl. She waved her arms in the air. “This is incredible! I’ve never been in a club before.”
“Nor should you have been.” Driscoll frowned at her. “This is not the place for ladies.”
Feeling quite cheerful, she took his arm and they headed out the front door. “Yet, I am to work in one.”
“That is a good reminder that we must find you a mask to wear before you begin working.”
“Do you know where to find such things?” Amelia took Driscoll’s offered hand and stepped up into the carriage.
“I do. We run a masquerade ball once a year and Dante and I are forced to wear a mask those evenings.”
The carriage started up with a jerk. “What use is a ball if ladies aren’t allowed?”
“That one night a year they are permitted to attend. But we close down the gaming tables and only have an orchestra, food and dancing.”
“How wonderful!” She could hear the excitement in her voice. “When is the next one?”
“Actually, it’s next month. We hold it in October so we don’t interfere with those who travel to their country estates for the holiday season.”
“Are the employees permitted to attend?”
Driscoll nodded. “Yes, indeed. A few of the more high-in-the-instep ladies of the ton don’t approve, but we’ve always felt that they had the option to stay home if that troubles them so much.”
“You are a good man, Driscoll Rose.” She leaned over and patted his knee, then quickly removed her hand when his eyes darkened, and he offered a slight smile. She drew in a deep breath and looked out the window. It was best to keep her hands where they belonged. And they did not belong on Driscoll’s person.
* * *
The first store they visited was the famous Fenwick’s. Amelia acted so innocently excited, glancing around like she was in a castle, touching the items for sale almost with reverence, that he presumed she had never been there before. Another strange piece of the puzzle that was his new employee.
Driscoll left her to seek the store manager and discretely arrange to have the bills for all her purchases sent to him, less they start any rumors of her being his mistress.
He soon realized that no matter where they went no one seemed to know her. Although he would hardly consider himself active in Society, it appeared with Amelia alongside him, everyone he’d ever met wanted to speak with him, while casting speculative sideway glances at his companion.
He introduced her by merely mentioning her name, never offering more, since he had no idea what to say. He certainly couldn’t divulge she was one of his employees. He’d thought about saying she was his cousin but as a youth he’d learned that lies eventually came back to haunt one.
The thought crossed his mind that despite his arrangement with the store manager, and the fact that they were out together without a chaperone, it still might be assumed she was his mistress, but he relied on her natural grace and behavior to mark her as a lady.
However, no doubt many Londoners were left with questions about the young lady acc
ompanying Driscoll Rose on a shopping spree. He cringed, hoping such question would not appear in the society column of the next day’s newspaper.
Another proof of Amelia’s unfamiliarity with London Society was her oblivion to how it looked for the two of them being together, shopping. Since she lacked sophistication, he should have been the one to think of that before they’d ventured out.
With the damage already done, they ended their foray to the shops with a visit to Gunter’s for tea. All her purchases were tidily stacked in the carriage or had been arranged for delivery.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have a few pieces of clothing.” She stirred her tea and looked over at him, then studied her cup. “I know you are wondering why I arrived at your club with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
Truth be told his major question was why no one knew her. However, there didn’t seem to be any point in pursuing that since he’d already reconciled himself to the fact that she would only tell him what she wanted him to know when she was ready. If that day ever came. He shrugged and didn’t respond, and she seemed to accept that, and in fact looked quite relieved.
However, as they enjoyed their tea, he thought about the conundrum that was Miss Pence. And what in the world he was to do about her.
9
“I’m telling you, Dante, it was a surreal experience. No matter where we went, no one knew Amelia. Everyone seemed anxious to meet her, and there was certainly speculation in their eyes, but absolutely no recognition. From anyone.”
“That seems almost impossible.” Dante shook his head. “It’s very obvious the girl is a lady. Everything about her screams Upper Crust. That girl has been born and bred to wed a gentleman of the ton, run his household with ease and aplomb, and raise his heirs. I’d bet tonight’s winnings on that.”
“I agree. She told me she is one and twenty years which means she should have had her come-out a few years ago. Even if she was buried in the country, does she have no relatives? No one who would have at least made the usual rounds with the girl since she’s here now in London? Parties, balls, musicales.” Driscoll took another sip of his coffee.
“Even though she dropped through the window with nothing but the clothes on her back, she had to come from somewhere. I’m willing to bet someone is searching for her,” Dante said.
Driscoll studied his brother. “Someone she doesn’t want to find her.”
“Yet she’s willing to work here at the club where hundreds of people visit weekly.”
“But, as I pointed out at the beginning of this conversation, no one we met in London knew her. And, she will be wearing a mask that will cover most of her face.”
Dante finished his coffee and stood. “Someone knows her, or she wouldn’t be running.” He slapped Driscoll on the shoulder. “Time to go to work. Are you training with Amelia tonight?”
“Yes. We’re going to go over vingt-et-un a few times with just the two of us and then I will have a few other staff members join in.”
Dante headed to the door. “Marcus is anxious to get off the vingt-et-un table and work as security. The sooner you get Amelia trained, the quicker we can make that switch.”
“She is a smart woman. I don’t think it will take her long to be comfortable.”
Driscoll left the dining room and headed to the bedroom Amelia was currently using. He knocked softly and she immediately opened the door.
He would never get used to looking at her without the reaction she caused. She wore one of the ready-made dresses they’d purchased earlier. The deep rose taffeta set off her blonde hair and blue eyes. The neckline was just right. Not low enough to distract the players—although that might be a good thing—and high enough to show her status as a proper young lady.
Amelia offered him a slight dip and a bright smile. The only indication of her nervousness was her hands which she clasped firmly in front of her. She took in a deep breath, immediately drawing his eyes to the creamy skin above her neckline. “I’m ready.”
His mouth dropped and he quickly coughed to cover his reaction. He had the strange urge to extend his elbow and parade her down the corridor like they were arriving at a ball. He mentally shook himself and merely waved her forward. “I thought we would practice in the dining room for a while. Then when you are comfortable, I will ask some of the staff to join us.”
She licked her lips and nodded, her eyes growing wide. “That is a good idea.” The strangled words coming from her plump lips belied their truth. Of course, she would be nervous. She was not raised to work in a gaming club.
But she presented a dilemma. They could not toss her into the street, and if she were to stay here under their protection, she had to earn her keep to avoid any gossip. And no, he answered his wicked thoughts, she would not earn her keep that way.
Once Amelia finally decided to trust him enough to reveal what she was all about, he wanted to make sure her reputation remained intact. Of course, working in a gaming club wasn’t exactly keeping her name pure, but at least if she appeared to be merely another employee, she might avoid the worst of it.
Or I could marry her and completely save her reputation.
Where the bloody hell did that come from? Marriage? Could he be serious? It wasn’t as if the wedded state was something he was against, but with his limited social life it didn’t seem he would marry any time soon. At least he hadn’t spent a great deal of time thinking about it. Until. . .
She dropped into my life.
Maybe it’s fate.
Or maybe he needed to alter his thinking and get on with training his new employee. He knew nothing about her. No one in London knew her. For all he knew she could be running from a husband. He glanced at her left hand again, reassuring himself there was no wedding ring, or the impression of one that she might have taken off.
No, until she trusted him with the information about herself, he and his brother were doing enough to help her in whatever situation from which she was escaping.
He held her chair out and took the one across from her. Time to concentrate on what they were here for. He pulled the deck of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle.
“Since you are familiar with the game, I won’t have to instruct you on how to proceed, but merely play a few hands so you can get the feel of the cards, the game, and playing against someone.”
She nodded and took another deep breath. Lord save him from leaping across the table and covering her sweet plump lips with his. It was time to concentrate on the game. Not on the woman.
About an hour passed as they played the game, alternating between him and Amelia as ‘the dealer.’ He could see her confidence grow as the time passed.
As he’d told Dante, she was a smart woman, and he could see how quickly she mimicked his movements and studied her own hand as well as his. She started out cautiously, but after a while she grew more confident and began to take chances.
They finished a hand, and he pulled the cards together and began to shuffle. “Are you ready to have a few other people join us? You would be the dealer.”
“Yes. I think I’m ready.” She grinned and he couldn’t help but return her smile.
“I’ll be right back. Why don’t you ring for something to drink, or eat if you’re hungry?”
“I could use some tea. But I hate to ring for it. I’m just another employee.”
She had a good point. Resentment might build if she was given privileges others were not. It was bad enough that she slept in the bedroom on the office floor. “I agree. I will have someone from the kitchen send up tea when I go down to find a few employees to join us.”
Driscoll made his way to the kitchen, requested the tea and then found some employees to join him and Amelia upstairs. Since he was away from his desk—which was a rarity—he strolled the game floor for a while. It appeared the house was doing quite well tonight.
“Well, good evening, Mr. Rose. We rarely see you down here.” Mrs. Beckenridge patted him on the arm with the painted
fan dangling from her wrist. The widow was notorious for switching lovers at an alarming rate. She apparently was so experienced and so willing to delve into anything and everything that the line was long to replace her current lover.
She’d teased him just about every time they’d met, but there was absolutely nothing about the woman that tempted him. Why she continued to goad him was beyond comprehension. He’d never given her any indication that she was of interest to him. Unless it was his resistance that held appeal. Perhaps she couldn’t stand the thought of a man not eager to take her to his bed.
Not that he was a prude, but he didn’t care for the idea of having a well-used woman underneath him. Aside from the possibility of picking up a disease, he was much more select in choosing his partners.
Nevertheless, she was a patron, and he had a job to do and a business to run. “Good evening to you as well, Mrs. Beckenridge. I thought it time to take a break and look around, so I don’t forget what the place looks like.” He grinned hoping that was enough conversation for her. He went to move past her, and she reached out and grasped his upper arm.
“You spend far too much time with your nose buried in your ledgers.” She ran her long, red fingernail from his shoulder down his arm. “I can offer you something much more interesting to bury your nose in.”
Good God, the woman had no shame. He was almost embarrassed for her, even though she only smiled at what she must have thought was a much-coveted invitation. His skin crawled and he couldn’t get away fast enough. “Some other time, perhaps.” He bowed and moved as fast as he could.
The sound of her deep, sultry laugh followed him.
“Watch out for that one.” Dante nodded in Mrs. Beckenridge’s direction as he strolled up to Driscoll.
“No need to warn me, brother. She holds no appeal, I assure you.” Driscoll shook his head in disgust and headed back upstairs, making a wide circle around Mrs. Beckenridge.
A Lady’s Trust: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Two Page 6
