Duke of Decadence

by Tammy Andresen

  Emily wrinkled her nose. “I believe almost everything and even I don’t believe that.”

  Eliza gave a much quieter, more demure laugh. “Isabella will be fine. And in the meantime, Aunt Mildred is going to take us shopping for clothes. Isn’t that right, Auntie?”

  “Clothes for what?” Abigail asked, looking back at Isabella.

  “Aunt Mildred is going to launch you into society,” Isabella answered. “So we’ll need fresh dresses in more current fashions.”

  “Yes, I am. All four of you are to be prepared,” Aunt Mildred replied. “We’ll leave at noon tomorrow to go shopping and then, Eliza and I have another errand to run. To see my dear brother-in-law.”

  Eliza shook her head. “No one calls him dear…not even your late sister who was his wife.”

  “And my husband? Alive?”

  “And ornery,” Abigail volunteered. “We met him once as children.”

  “But he let me come down here because?” Aunt Mildred asked, primly folding her hands.

  The girls fell silent. Eliza tapped her chin. “It wouldn’t be for money. He’s never cared about that. At least not Papa’s.”

  “Perhaps something to do with our cousin, Ewan? Mayhap Ewan needs some English connections to expand the sale of their grain?” Emily volunteered quietly.

  “Excellent.” Mildred nodded. “And I last met your uncle at…”

  “Your wedding. But honestly, you married three years after Aunt Frannie, so you were quite familiar with Uncle Malcolm for a time.”

  “Was I? Oh my head. I’ve grown so forgetful in my old age. Have you seen my spectacles?”

  Eliza gave a nod. “That should do. He’s mean as they come and a thief to boot.”

  The new Mildred nodded. “Understood.”

  “Now,” Eliza let go of her sisters. “We have to get Isabella ready for her first night at work.”

  Bash sat behind his curtain, watching Isabella deal. His chest was tight as he fixed his gaze on her tapered fingers. How could all the men at the table not see they were the hands of a woman?

  He’d barely glanced at any other table, which he knew was a mistake. He needed to watch the entire floor, but he couldn’t take his gaze off her.

  A burly guard leaned against the wall behind her. There were four stationed about the room, so it wasn’t strange. He didn’t appear to watch just her, but Bash had put her at that table, so she’d be close to himself and even closer to that guard.

  She flicked over several cards as another round of betting took place. Men shifted, they called out numbers, tapped for extra cards.

  One, just to Isabella’s right, scrubbed the back of his neck. He’d been steadily losing all night and Bash had noted that he grew more agitated with each passing hand. It was part of being in a club like this and the very reason Isabella didn’t belong here. He stood, his muscles tensing as he watched. “This is the hand my luck will change.”

  Isabella’s gaze settled on the man. “Don’t rely on luck. She’ll always let you down.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The other man asked. “How else would I win? If I even can. How come the house wins so much at this godforsaken hell hole?” His glass thumped down on the table even as he leaned closer to Isabella. “How come you win so much?”

  He was spitting, and to Isabella’s credit, she didn’t step back. “Did you want to draw?”

  The words were ones dealers spoke every day, but they lit the man’s simmering temper and without warning, he swung his fist directly at Isabella’s face.

  She must have seen it coming because she swerved out of the way, the man’s beefy knuckles missing her by the width of a hair.

  A growl erupted from his throat as he burst through the curtain and grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck, spinning him from the table.

  Anger hot and white burst inside him. He swung his other fist around his body and landed on the hard bone of the man’s nose. He heard it crunch as he tossed the man to the floor.

  Pointing at the guard, he snarled, “Get him out of here.”

  Then without another word, he spun about and grabbed Isabella by the upper arm, propelling her toward the back rooms.

  What was it about her that brought out the beast in him? He gripped her upper arm, wondering again why in the hell he’d agreed to her scheme.

  Pretending to be a man was dangerous for her…what if that gambler had landed that punch? The idea of Isabella crumpling to the ground made his stomach lurch and he snarled again.

  “Bash?” Came her shaky whisper. “Are you all right?”

  “Me?” he asked, opening a door and pushing it with such force that it flew into the wall, bouncing back toward them. “I’m more concerned about you. You could have been killed.”

  She shuddered and he felt it. Without warning, his anger was replaced with fear and he hauled her up against her chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I have to be here,” she said, burrowing against his chest.

  She had him there. He dropped his cheek to the top of her head. “I’ll help you even if you don’t—”

  “No,” she shook her head. “That’s not the way.”

  “It is if I say it is.”

  She leaned back with a sigh. “Bash, try to understand. We’ve known each other for a day. What if you grow tired of helping me? What if you decide I’m too much trouble? The only way this works is if we need each other. Depend on one another.”

  He drew in a shaky breath. He understood her point. But she failed to understand her rather profound effect on him. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “And I’m not going to change mine. This is the only way.” She bit her lip as though she wished to say more. “I refuse to just be a burden.”

  “Women were not meant to be here. Furthermore, it’s a man’s job to take care of—"

  “It’s not your job.” She pulled away, creating space between them. “We’ve struck a mutually beneficial bargain. I am not your charge, your mistress, or your wife.”

  He clenched his teeth together. It was on the tip of his tongue to say she should be. But he couldn’t. Every time they were together, he came closer to letting out the demon that lived within. The one his father had placed there.

  “What happened?” Vanity stepped into the room. He furrowed his brow as he stared between the two of them. “Why have all the games stopped?”

  “Go man the curtain,” Bash barked in return. “And find a dealer for Isabella’s table. She’s done for the night.”

  “Done?” Vanity asked. “I just finished counting the first pick up from the tables. She made three times as much as any other table.”

  Isabella crossed her arms. “See. You need me.”

  Bash scrubbed his face.

  “She’s right. We need her,” Vanity added because, clearly, he didn’t value his own life.

  Bash spun about, looking for an outlet for his feelings. “Is that so?” He knew he was allowing the anger to take over, but he couldn’t quite hold it back. “You can take part of your cut and put it in the fund that will outfit her sisters for the upcoming season.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Vanity swallowed then as Blasphemy stepped behind him.

  The other man scowled. “Outfit her fu—”

  “No profanity,” Bash interrupted, stepping closer. His chest pushed out as he dared his friends to disagree.

  “No profanity?” Blasphemy punched one hand into an open palm. “This is a fu—” But he stopped. “This is a gaming hell.”

  Some of his anger left then. Because despite their blustering, his friends were acquiescing. “You’re the ones who wanted her here. Tell all the men. Her sisters need to be outfitted. That’s step one. This is the price. They can pay it, or she doesn’t stay.”

  Blasphemy mumbled something under his breath that Bash was certain was a string of curses, but he kept his voice low. Vanity gave a curt nod as he too turned, then headed toward the front room.

 
“So,” Isabella said behind him. “You’ve decided I can stay.”

  He turned back to her. He wanted to pull her up against his chest again. But that was exactly what he should not do. “I’m sending you home for the night.”

  “But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  He let out a sigh. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Nine

  Isabella sat alone in Bash’s carriage, trying to keep her eyes propped open. Her guard always rode on the small seat on the very back of the vehicle, so she had the interior to herself. She was bone-tired and couldn’t wait to slip into bed. It had to be approaching dawn now. Fortunately for her, tonight they were going to some party at a baron’s home. Bash had secured the invitations.

  That meant no club this evening.

  Which was a treat. Isabella had received quite the education over the last three weeks and what she’d learned was that men were filthy pigs. They spit, they cussed, they swore, they drank, and they gambled away giant sums of money in the name of fun.

  Except for Bash. He never drank, never swore, didn’t gamble. Twice other men had caused trouble at her table and both times, he’d been at her side in an instant.

  There were men and then there were a few good men. And he was one of them.

  Just thinking about him, made her eyes pop open again. Other than those two instances, she’d hardly seen him at all. That didn’t mean he wasn’t always in the background.

  But he’d barely spoken to her and he certainly hadn’t touched her in days. If she were honest, she missed him. The feel of his hands. The press of his body, the way he made everything less frightening, the way he filled her with breathless excitement.

  But she’d see him tonight.

  Tonight, he’d accompany her, her sisters, and their aunt to the party.

  Aunt Mildred had insisted Isabella attend every shopping trip, every tea about town, every luncheon that her other sisters had been invited to. Apparently, Isabella was to live a double life so that her reputation might somehow remain intact. She appreciated the thought. But lying had never been Isabella’s strong suit. How would she ever tell a man who sought her hand that she’d done a stint as a dealer in a gaming hell? At best, she’d retire to the country after this to live a quiet life as a spinster. Maybe by the sea. She had math and…her shoulders drooped again.

  What had she told Bash in his office? One problem at a time. Her future was a worry for another day.

  Right now, she’d focus on the fact that to prepare for the evening ahead, all her sisters would sleep late. There would be no shopping and no luncheons today.

  Isabella sighed, craving her bed and mind-numbing sleep. When the carriage finally pulled up to her home, she hauled herself from the seat and into the house, then made her way up the stairs.

  She slowly undressed, unpinning her hair, and pulling off her shirt and breeches. Not even bothering to braid her hair, she turned toward her bed to find Eliza already laying there. Her sister was awake and staring at Isabella.

  “What are you doing in my bed?” She gave Eliza a tired smile. “Were you going to tell me you were there?”

  “You look exhausted,” Eliza said, peeling back the covers.

  “I am,” she answered, crossing the room and slipping between the sheets.

  “I wanted to warm the bed for you, you’ll fall asleep faster that way.”

  Isabella snuggled down into the warm bed, her sister wrapping an arm about her. “Thank you.”

  Eliza rubbed Isabella’s arm. “I know this is tough but it’s for the best. What Aunt Mildred is doing making you attend events during the day—”

  “She’s not actually our aunt,” Isabella said as she let out a jaw-splitting yawn.

  “I know that.” Eliza clucked. “But by making you participate with us, you’ll have a chance at a real future—”

  “Eliza.” She turned back and looked at her sister. “The veil has been lifted for me. I’ve seen behind the curtain of men and I can’t pretend to pull the curtain down again. Any man who expresses interest will know that I know.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I can’t pretend to be dewy-eyed any longer and I’m not sure I’d want to.”

  Eliza wrinkled her nose. “When was I ever dewy-eyed? I can still marry and so can you.”

  “And pretend that this never happened? You know I’m no good at that.”

  “I suppose you aren’t. Neither is Emily. Now, Abigail and I…” Eliza squeezed her hand again. “There has to be a way to find you a future. I’m going to think on it.”

  “I’m glad.” Isabella smiled as she closed her eyes. “Because I can’t think about anything right now.”

  “What about Bash? Does he still look for any excuse to touch you?”

  That made Isabella’s eyes pop open again. “No.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I’ve hardly seen him.”

  “Odd,” Eliza whispered. “I thought for certain that he was smitten. I wonder why he’s avoiding you?”

  Isabella closed her eyes again. She couldn’t think about it now. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  Just before sleep overtook her, she dreamed she heard Eliza say. “I think I will.”

  The counting had gone late.

  Bash scrubbed his face. Or very early, depending on the perspective. The sun was already rising as he left the club. They’d made four times the profits this month as they had the one before and January wasn’t even over.

  But he’d begun to hate the club.

  For the first time, he saw it through Isabella’s eyes. He didn’t like what he saw. Filthy, vile men, bad behavior. She hardly spoke while she was there. Just dealt and shuffled and dealt again.

  And her eyes. They’d danced at first, but they were dulling. Slowly but surely.

  He remembered that feeling.

  It had been different, of course. He hadn’t just been watching the worst of humanity, he’d experienced it at his father’s cruel fist.

  He remembered one particular incident when his father had brought several lords to their home to discuss a business proposition. One of them had brought a son along and he and Bash had gone out to the garden.

  The other boy had pushed Bash, accidentally, and Bash had fallen into a puddle. It was typical boy behavior, but his father had flown into a rage.

  Bash had been weak, he’d gotten dirty, he’d embarrassed his father. He’d received several lashes with the belt for his transgression.

  And he’d stopped playing with other children.

  He cracked several of his knuckles. As he’d grown older, he’d also become angry. He’d look for any excuse to fight. And when he did, it was always his father’s face that he’d pictured. Until one day, when he’d delivered a savage beating in the boxing ring, he’d caught his reflection and realized that his father wasn’t in the other man’s face but in Bash’s own features. He looked the picture of his father’s rage.

  That’s when he’d decided it was better to care about nothing. And that had been working quite well for the last six years. Until Isabella.

  Now, as hard he was trying, he did care about something. Her.

  He’d cared that she suffered and sacrificed. He cared that she might get hurt. And he cared that she looked at him like he was her only hope.

  The carriage stopped in the alley next to his house and he climbed out, looking forward to bed.

  That was when he caught sight of a brunette leaning near the kitchen door. For a split second, he thought it was Isabella and his heart began to pound in his chest, but then he realized, it was actually Eliza. Disappointment stabbed him like a poker. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I need to talk to you.” She pushed off the wall.

  “What time is it? Six?”

  “I don’t know.” Eliza shrugged. “It’s early enough that Mildred wouldn’t know that I’d left.”

  He chuckled. “She’s keeping you out of trouble then?”

  Eliza rolled her eyes. “I would ju
st like to say that I was doing fine without a guardian, but yes, she seems to take her job seriously.”

  “Good. That will make it easier to hide Isabella’s deception.”

  Eliza cleared her throat. “That’s the very topic I came to discuss.”

  “Hiding Isabella’s activities at the club?”

  “Not exactly.” Eliza nibbled her lip and for a moment, she looked a lot like Isabella. “My sister is honest to a fault. She’s not really capable of deception.”

  “I see.” He didn’t.

  That wasn’t true. He did. He watched her constantly from his spot behind the curtain. She never lied or even deceived to win hands the way some dealers did. It was all knowledge of the cards. But he didn’t understand the point Eliza was attempting to make.

  “She thinks that she’ll never marry because she can’t tell her husband about all of this,” Eliza waved her hands. “And she can’t keep it a secret either.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “I agree. But that’s Isabella.” Eliza let out a long breath. “I would like to see my sister settled, which was why I was wondering if any of your associates are considering marriage.”

  That made him choke on his spit. “What?”

  “That baron, for example. The one that’s always cursing. No good family would put up with it.” Eliza gave him a knowing smile “Isabella might be a good option for a man like him. She’s educated. Cultured, kind and attractive. She’d make an excellent wife.”

  The very idea of Blasphemy touching her made his blood boil. “Out of the question.”

  “Why?” She cocked her head. “They know of her past and will keep her secret. If you ask me it’s a perfect solution.”

  He spluttered as he attempted to answer. Perfect? Watching his business partner and friend touch Isabella? Knowing that he’d take her home and make love to her? “He’s morally corrupt.”