Only he wasn’t. As he walked along the street where buildings were in various stages of being completed, he imagined she experienced the same sort of happiness when she received the earl’s proposal as he did when he watched the structures arise from the rubble of what had once been a vermin-infested area of London. He’d gotten the property cheap, acres of it. This street and the next, he’d mapped out for shops. The remaining area would be town houses where only a single family would reside. The rents wouldn’t be exorbitant. He doubted he’d ever break even.
The shops and his hotel were another story. They would provide employment for those who lived in this area. He was going to employ proper street sweepers who received a salary, not lads who were tossed a coin after clearing a path for the posh. His streets would be free of horse dung and rubbish. He had grand plans, plans that would create pride in the folk who lived and worked here, plans that would allow ladies to walk about without fear of ruining the hems of their skirts.
Thinking of skirts had him thinking about Aslyn again. He wanted her to attend his celebration of success. He wanted her to witness his accomplishments, to give her a chance to compare him against Kipwick. He wished every building would be finished when he opened the hotel, but there was no reason to hold off making money on it. Besides, he needed to find tenants for some of the shops, and some potential ones would be there during the festivities. Although, perhaps she would see the potential here as he did.
He realized, much to his consternation, it wasn’t his need to lord his achievements over Kipwick’s that had him contemplating how he might ensure she attend his affair, but a desire to share all this with her, to catch a glimpse of it through her eyes. To see if she took as much delight in it as he did.
All foolishness on his part. He couldn’t lose sight of his ultimate goal or the fact that when it was achieved, Lady Aslyn would despise him.
“I need him to win tonight.”
Standing in a shadowed corner beside Aiden, Mick watched as Kipwick finally strolled through the entrance of the Cerberus Club and shrugged out of his coat, handing it off to a young fellow who was tasked with seeing to each visitor’s possessions. He’d expected him to be here tonight as his appearance had become a habit, and each morning Aiden sent over the earl’s markers.
“That seems to be contrary to your plans,” Aiden said, his tone neutral, yet Mick heard his brother’s silent question: what are you about?
“I want him in a jovial mood.”
“Not a bad idea to let him win. He’s had a string of losses the past few nights. To be honest, I’m surprised he returned.”
“He lost his membership in yet another club, the last of any reputation that would have him. He has nowhere else to go.”
“There are plenty of places—less reputable to be sure, more dangerous certainly—for a man with an addiction to appease his demons, and your earl is addicted to wagering.”
“He’s not my earl.”
“I saw in the newspaper that he is hers.”
The words struck hard and quick, a solid blow that knocked him mentally off balance. His teeth clenched of their own accord, his gut tightened, his hands balled into fists at his side, but his face reflected no emotion whatsoever. Nor did his voice when he finally found the wherewithal to speak. “The reason I need him in a jovial mood. If I keep accidentally crossing paths with her, she’ll become suspicious. It’s to my benefit for him to arrange the next encounter.”
“You know I don’t condone cheating.”
“I also know you have a dealer with the skills to control which cards land in front of which gents. I want him at that table where the earl just sat down.”
Aiden patted his shoulder. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Then he strolled away to make arrangements with his talented dealer as though he hadn’t a care in the world, when Mick knew his cares were plenty. He wasn’t alone in that. Ettie Trewlove’s brood all carried far too many burdens.
The cards were with him tonight. Kipwick had felt the turn in the tide half an hour into play, when a new dealer had relieved the other. The past few nights he’d been bleeding money, and while he wasn’t presently winning as quickly as he’d lost, his abrupt change in fortune was a start toward putting matters to rights. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to be unable to keep his father from learning of his ever-increasing debt from. Although the debt wouldn’t be with him for much longer. Aslyn’s dowry would go a long way toward putting him back on a strong financial footing.
The fact that his father had recently transferred the nonentailed holdings into his keeping was also quite beneficial. When he needed to prove his solvency in order to gain a loan, he had only to point to the properties.
He cleaned out one gent—although referring to him as a gent was a stretch of the term—and watched as the large fellow scraped back his chair and wandered off. Most of the people here, commoners, were beneath him. The few aristocrats he recognized were black sheep, usually second sons, not likely to report anything of note to his father since they weren’t welcomed in most parlors. He liked the Cerberus Club and all that it offered: decadence at its most primal. It was an honest place, took pride in what it was. It didn’t try to fancy itself up with liveried footmen, wood-paneled walls, crystal chandeliers, or quiet rooms housing books so a man could pretend what he did outside those rooms was respectable.
Here he wasn’t a lord, with expectations weighing on him. Here he was just a man. And he loved it.
Glancing over as the chair that was just vacated was pulled out farther, he grinned at Mick Trewlove as he sat and went about exchanging a thousand quid for tokens. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever return.”
Without looking at him, Trewlove carefully lined up his chips. “I’ve been monstrously busy preparing to open my hotel for business.”
“I’ve heard it’s quite the thing.”
The ante was called for. Chips were tossed into the center of the table, cards were dealt. He received a pair of jacks. The night was certainly going his way. “Perhaps you’d give me a tour.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll invite you to the ball I’m hosting to celebrate the opening.”
Furrowing his brow, Kipwick pretended to consider his cards when in truth he was striving to determine the ramifications of attending should word get back to his father. “Unfortunately I’m not available.”
“I haven’t told you the date yet.” The tone was quiet, deathly so, brimming with displeasure. “Surely it’s not my bastardy that’s keeping you away.”
Lifting his gaze, Kipwick saw a face as solid as marble, all the features more pronounced, the blue eyes as hard as flint. No movement occurred at the table, as though everyone, including the dealer, was waiting to see if an insult was on the horizon, one that would no doubt be followed by a quick jab to his chin. “No insult intended, but I don’t usually attend public balls.”
Trewlove tossed away two cards. Movement began. Kipwick breathed, only then realizing his lungs had been frozen.
“My apologies,” Trewlove said, never taking his eyes from his stack of chips. “I thought you had an interest in investing.”
“I do.”
His gaze slid over to Kipwick, fairly impaled him. “My investors will be attending. Men of wealth who often hear of other opportunities for investment, sharing what they know of those prospects. I daresay I learn more by mingling informally with knowledgeable men than I learn by holding meetings with them.”
Kipwick exchanged three of his cards, fighting not to smile at the third jack. “It sounds as though it could prove a fruitful evening. When is it?”
“Tuesday next.”
He nodded. “I shall be there.”
A round of wagering. When it got to Trewlove, he raised the stakes by a hundred quid. Kipwick’s heart pounded. Before that moment, during all the hands he�
�d played that night, the most anyone had wagered was ten. Those tokens symbolizing so much were like a siren call. He matched the wager and raised another two hundred.
“Perhaps you’d bring Lady Aslyn,” Trewlove said as he called and raised another hundred.
Everyone else folded, until it was only the two of them. “Her guardians would not approve.”
“You don’t have to tell them. Besides, my sister would take great delight in seeing her again. And we must have women about else with whom are we to dance? A ball hosted by a commoner is not that different from one hosted by a duke.”
“Will other nobles be in attendance?”
“A select few are invited.”
He shook his head, striving to determine whether to call or raise. “It will do her reputation no good.”
Trewlove tapped his cards on the table. “Let’s make this interesting. If I win this round, you bring Lady Aslyn. If you win”—he dramatically waved his hand over the tokens—“all my remaining chips are yours.”
Kipwick’s mouth went dry. With what others had added to the pot, he’d win well over a thousand quid. Three jacks were sure to beat whatever Trewlove held. There was no risk in this. Aslyn would not be associating with those beneath her. While he would leave here with bulging pockets. “I accept the terms.”
“You first.”
Fighting not to gloat, he turned over his three jacks. “I’d like to see you beat that.”
“I’d have thought you’d have preferred for me to lose.” He tossed down his cards, face up, and Kipwick found himself staring into the eyes of three kings. Odd how he felt as though they were mocking him.
Trewlove began gathering up his chips. “I shall see you and Lady Aslyn Tuesday next.”
“Are you done here?”
“I am.”
Sitting back, he wasn’t at all happy with the suspicion taking hold. “Your entire purpose in sitting down here was to get Aslyn to your ball.” He didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“Your presence will add to the affair’s prestige.”
He liked that his presence was included but still he was bothered. “I heard you took her on a stroll through the park.”
“ ‘Took her’ implies I was responsible for our being there. It was a chance encounter. Nothing untoward occurred.”
“So she claimed.”
“Did you not believe her?”
“Of course I did. She hasn’t a deceptive bone in her body.” He wasn’t certain the same could be said of Trewlove. “She will make me an excellent wife.” He felt compelled to remind the man that she was claimed.
“I’ve no doubt. I’ll let Fancy know she’ll be attending the ball. It’ll please her immensely.”
It was with a bit of regret that he watched Trewlove walk off with his winnings. He sighed. He should have quit while he was ahead. Studying the tokens that rested before him, he knew he should gather them up and leave as well, but with a bit of luck and a few more hands, he could regain what he’d lost. Without much care, he tossed a token onto the center of the table and waited for the cards to be dealt.
Three hands in, each one a loss, Aiden Trewlove approached, leaned in and whispered, “I know about the wager you made with my brother. If you don’t pay him what is owed, you’ll find these doors locked to you.”
“I don’t need a threat. My word is binding.”
“Considering you’ve yet to make good on any of your markers, I wasn’t certain.”
“You need not worry. I will pay you what I owe.”
“I’m in no hurry, but the interest will be steep, my lord, steeper than I suspect you imagine.”
“I’m good for it.”
Aiden Trewlove clapped him on the back and laughed. “Glad to hear it, as I believe we could have a most profitable friendship.”
As the man walked off, Kipwick acknowledged it wasn’t the sort of profits that Aiden could provide that interested him. It was the profits that being closer to Mick Trewlove could gain him that held his attention. If he played his cards right, untold fortune rested on his horizon.
Chapter 8
“I can’t remember the last time we went to the theater,” Aslyn said, as the well-sprung carriage clattered through the streets carrying her and Kip toward their destination. Since their betrothal, his visits had been rare, which had only served to cause her to question her wisdom in consenting so quickly. Not that she could have imagined herself saying no, but perhaps if she’d paused a bit longer, if she’d forced him to work a little more diligently for her agreement, he’d be paying her more attention.
Sitting across from her, even though he could now sit beside her since they had an understanding, decked out in his finery, his top hat and cane resting in his lap, he cleared his throat, glanced out the window, returned his gaze to her. “Actually we’re not going to the theater.”
“But you invited me. You told your parents—”
“Yes, well, because I knew they wouldn’t approve of this excursion.”
Her heart gave a little kick against her ribs. It wasn’t terribly late, just after eight, but still his words gave her hope for some excitement. “Are we on the verge of doing something we ought not?”
“You might say that. We received an invitation to a ball celebrating the opening of Mick Trewlove’s hotel. I thought you might enjoy attending.”
While she did have a keen interest in the man’s hotel, in seeing what he might have accomplished, she was rather confused by the change in the night’s plans. “You chastised me for walking with him in the park. Surely he will be there tonight. Am I to give him the cut you suggested?”
“Absolutely not. In hindsight I may have overreacted to the park situation. He assured me nothing untoward took place.”
His words irked. “I assured you. Did you not believe me?”
“Without a doubt I did,” he said hastily. “Aslyn, you’re missing the entire point. I know you were disappointed that I wouldn’t take you to Cremorne during the improper hours, so I thought to make it up to you by bringing you with me tonight.”
“You’ve been spending more time in his company.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory but it was pointed, a statement indicating she knew the truth.
“Some, yes. My father doesn’t understand that we can’t continue to rely on the income from our estates to sustain us. We must expand our horizons if we want to increase our revenue. I’ll meet investors tonight. And becoming closer to Trewlove will also open up opportunities. I want him to come to me the next time he needs capital.”
She wasn’t quite certain the man really needed anything.
“His sister’s going to be there. You liked her well enough, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you like parties. As you said, we’ll be doing something we ought not. We’ll have a jolly good time at it. You can pretend it’s Cremorne Gardens in the later hours. There are bound to be some sordid sorts about.”
She couldn’t deny she was intrigued by the opportunity to catch a glimpse into Mick Trewlove’s world. “How often have you seen Mr. Trewlove since the night at Cremorne?”
The light from the lamp allowed her to see his shrug. “A couple of times. He gained me access to a club that suits me. On occasion he’s there.”
“I assume this club is a gambling den.”
“The very best kind. All they offer is gambling and drinks. It’s rough and exciting. Nothing at all like a gentlemen’s club.”
“So Mr. Trewlove gambles.”
He furrowed his brow. “Not very much actually. Mostly he watches. Not a man for taking risks, I suppose.”
“This venture of his seems a huge risk.” She’d managed to find an article about his developments. “To tear things down and build anew—it can’t be cheap.”
“He can afford it.”
“Only as long as he has success. Unless he’s succeeded in growing money on trees.”
Kip laughed. “I’d purchase one of those trees from him right quick without even quibbling over the cost.”
“I doubt they’d be for sale.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. From what I’ve gathered, he’d find a way to make even more money off it.”
“You admire him.” She heard it in the tone of his voice.
“It is difficult not to admire someone who came from nothing and managed to rise above it. Still, my admiration goes only so far. I’d best not catch him flirting with you.”
“He’ll be too busy with his other guests to give me much notice.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. You look very lovely tonight. But remember you belong to me.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What? Like a pair of boots?”
Grinning, he leaned toward her, took one of her hands and placed a kiss on her gloved knuckles, all the while holding her gaze. “Like something I treasure. Have you set a date?”
“No. Your mother wants the end of the Season, but I was thinking Christmas.”
“Choose the date you want.”
“But your mother has been so kind to me. An earlier wedding seems a small thing to give her.”
“She chose the day she married. You should choose yours.”
“You have no preference?”
“My preference is for you to be happy.”
The words were comforting, and yet she rather wished he’d claimed to be unable to wait until Christmas. Why was it that ever since she’d said yes, she was finding fault with him and questioning whether she should have said no?
The carriage slowed, drew to a halt. Glancing out the window, she was vaguely aware of a line of carriages, while the majority of her attention was arrested by the huge brick building. “Is that it?”
Kip leaned over, looked out. “I would say so, yes.”
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