But a promise was a promise.
“Tonight,” he said.
She hesitated for a brief moment, a strange excitement tingling in her stomach, before nodding. “Tonight.”
…
The evening came quickly.
Her maid, Rose, had arrived and she’d helped Grace dress in a sapphire gown and had styled her hair in a chignon with loose curls by her cheeks. Now, clutching her skirts, Grace made her way down the stairs where Ian waited at the bottom for her.
Ian’s hot gaze raked her form and rested on her face. “You are a vision.” He kissed her hand, and her skin prickled pleasurably beneath her satin glove. “Are you ready?”
A questioning look flashed in his eyes, and she realized he was nervous. Ian Swift nervous?
She hated gambling. He knew it, but he needn’t feel nervous. Her motives for accompanying him tonight were twofold. Yes, she’d made him a promise, but even more compelling was the chance to see where he’d spent the past decade of his life, through his eyes.
It was a tantalizing opportunity she could not pass up.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”
She placed her hand on his sleeve and could feel the tense muscles in his arm. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, to somehow reassure him.
How odd. When had things turned around so that it was now she who felt the need to offer comfort?
They stepped outside where his carriage waited. A large moon hung low like a Roman coin, and the black carriage gleamed beneath the luminous light. She settled across from him and her skirts brushed his legs. He reached for something on the padded bench and held out a lovely peacock feathered mask. “For you.”
She took the mask and ran her fingers through the exotic blue-and-white feathers. “Will people ask about my identity if I am seen with you?”
“No. They know better. Secrecy is understood and prized at the Raven Club.”
Secrecy. She was married to the most private man in all of London. An earl who owned a notorious gambling club. Would she ever get used to it?
Could she?
A short carriage ride later, they arrived at their destination. She glanced out the carriage window at the tall wooden doors flanked by torches. A large R was carved in the wood. She’d never noticed it before, and she wondered what else she would see this time. She’d been barely able to control her nervousness on her first visit here, and she’d been furious on her second. She hadn’t bothered to study her surroundings in detail; she’d simply wanted to conduct her business and leave as fast as she could.
Ian waved away the driver, lowered the step himself, and held his hand out for her. “I’m honored to have you here.”
He was asking her to trust him, to enter his domain where he ruled with an iron fist and others fell beneath the glitter and glory of the casino floor. As soon as she entered, she too would be under his command.
Heart pounding, she placed her small hand in his much larger one. Just like the first time, she entered masked. But this time was different—this time she was on Ian’s arm.
It was a busy night and every table on the floor was filled with gamblers hoping to win at a game of chance. Grace’s senses were soon full of the sights and sounds of the club as her fingers tightened on Ian’s arm. The sound of the spinning roulette wheel, the crack of the dice as they landed on the green baize, the excited shouts of the winners, the call of the croupiers, and the scent of ladies’ perfume comingled with the smell of cigar smoke all served to surround her in a kaleidoscope of color, scent, and noise.
Two masked women sat at a table along with three men. One of the women wore a bright blue satin mask, but Grace recognized the auburn hair and the distinctive birthmark on her right arm.
“That’s Lady Bellow,” she whispered.
“It is, but she is not called by that name here.”
“I won’t acknowledge her, but I would never suspect that she’d come to the Raven Club. She is a respectable Society hostess.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my years here it is that those with the heaviest duties need the most daring escape.”
“If you say so.”
“Not all is as it appears.” He steered her away from Lady Bellow’s hazard table and led her around the casino floor. Her interest was piqued. If Lady Bellows was here, who else of her acquaintance frequented the club?
She spotted a worker coming from a door concealed in one of the paneled walls. “Where does that lead?”
“There are hidden corridors that lead to private gaming rooms.”
Private rooms? The place was much bigger than she’d originally thought. Her eyes were wide as they passed numerous tables. “Is that Lady Creecy?”
His expression grew grim. “Her husband hits her. He doesn’t know she’s here.”
Grace knew her husband, the Earl of Creecy, and had never liked him. He was arrogant, and she’d once heard him speak to his wife in a condescending manner at a ball. “If he ever found out, his wrath would be horrible.”
“It’s safe for her here. She knows I wouldn’t permit her husband membership. He’s tried and I’ve turned him away.”
“Why?”
“This is a safe haven for Lady Creecy. I’ve offered to send her to the country, but she refuses to leave her husband. They have two young boys.”
She looked at Ian with renewed interest. He donated to orphanages and asylums and protected women from their abusive husbands. Just when she’d thought she’d understood him, she’d unearthed a different side to him.
He stopped and glanced at her. “This is where I thought would be a good fit for you.”
She tore her gaze away from his arresting face to notice that he’d led her to a vingt-et-un table. “Here?”
“This game requires more skill. I think you’d be good at it.”
“You can’t believe I’d place a wager?”
“If you wager properly, it is quite fun.”
A nagging feeling settled in her stomach. “By wagering properly, do you mean not losing my head like my father?”
His voice softened. “There will always be reckless gamblers, Grace. You cannot stop that from happening. But gambling is everywhere. From the betting book at White’s, to balls and parties, even Almack’s has a gambling room.”
“I know,” she said. Society, it seemed, was determined to wager on something.
“Your father has other problems. He’s addicted to drink as much as he is to the cards. I would continue to turn him away, but there are far more dangerous places, gambling hells in Pall Mall, that will take him. It’s best if he continues to gamble here where he can be watched.”
He was right. The all-too-familiar feelings of helplessness, frustration, and anger coursed through her at her father’s weaknesses.
“I showed you this table because I wanted you to know that I’ve made some of your changes,” he said.
She looked up in bewilderment. “What changes?”
“I removed two hazard tables and replaced one with this vingt-et-un table. As you can see, it’s busy.”
“What did you put in place of the other table?”
“Roulette. You told me they were both the most profitable.”
He’d followed her advice? She was surprised and genuinely flattered. He’d claimed he appreciated her intelligence, but for him to change his casino based on her suggestions showed her that he’d been truthful. His actions spoke to her more than his words. Part of herself fell more in love with him.
Dangerous.
He hadn’t voiced his feelings for her. She knew he didn’t love her, but did he care for her?
“Show me the roulette wheel,” she said, then followed him to where a group of people stood by a spinning wheel.
He handed her a coin. “Go ahead. Place your bet. Just once. It’s harmless and for no other purpose than for fun.”
For fun. She’d never considered it fun. She’d avoided the gaming rooms at balls and Almac
k’s. It was too difficult to see the looks on the faces of the gamers and not think of her father betting more in one night than she could earn in months.
“Go on.”
She placed the coin on black eight.
The croupier called for all bets, then dropped a little white ball in the wheel. With a flick of his wrist, the wheel was sent into motion. She watched fascinated as the ball spun and spun. Tantalizing. Mesmerizing. Where would it stop? The ball bounced and taunted and just when she thought there was a chance it might land on her number, it skipped and landed on another.
Her heart sank.
“Better luck next time,” a burly man with yellow teeth said beside her.
The statement was a stab at her heart. For a brief moment, she had been caught up in the game. Her mind had been a crazy mixture of hope that the ball could land on her number. Was her father’s madness something that ran within the family?
It was a disturbing thought and not one she wanted to explore.
Ian must have sensed her rioting emotions. He took her hand and tugged her away. “Come,” he said. “You have seen enough.”
She walked beside him to the back of the large room until she thought he meant to leave from a rear entrance.
“Where are we going?”
“Upstairs.”
Her heart beat fast as she followed him up the stairs and into his private realm. The first time she’d visited the club, he’d brought her upstairs. Grace’s stomach had clenched tight as she’d followed his lead. She’d gathered her courage and approached the fierce-looking gambling hall owner with the intent of using her mother’s remaining jewels to pay off her father’s debt. Ian had appeared intimidating and frightening to her then.
Did he look different now?
He still appeared fierce in his surroundings, but she was no longer frightened of him. Rather, she was drawn to him.
As they took the stairs she stole a look at his face. His profile was strong and rigid, and a determined look flashed in his eyes. Her gaze swept from his broad shoulders to his narrow hips to his muscled legs. Her heart fluttered wildly in her breast. She was already attracted to him, but here, in this place, he radiated a virility that was compelling.
They reached the top of the stairs, and he hurried down a long corridor, then halted by a door. He opened the door to his office, and she stepped inside. It was as she remembered. A large desk was beside a fireplace and marble mantel, two wooden chairs sat before the desk, and a sideboard holding decanters of colorful liquor stood by a blue-striped settee in the corner. A lush Oriental carpet covered the floor. But it was the window overlooking the gambling floor that commanded her attention. She was drawn to the glass and found herself looking down at the casino floor.
The sight was both alluring and thrilling. The floor seemed to beat with an exciting pulse of its own, and she finally understood the pull that others felt when they stepped inside.
Once again, she was torn by conflicting emotions. Establishments like this had led to her father’s ruin. But Ian had also been right. Her father drank too much. It was a deadly combination—whisky and gambling. Still, she couldn’t fathom how she had gotten to this point in her life. Married to the owner of one of the most notorious gambling clubs in London.
A man she had fallen deeply in love with.
It was maddening. Could she convince him to part with his club? Were his feelings for her greater than those he had for this place? Or could she live with the hand she’d been dealt?
“I know what you are thinking,” he said.
She whirled to face him. “You do?”
Ian leaned on his desk, his arms folded across his chest. “You think I should have added more than one roulette table?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You’re shameless.”
A flash of humor crossed his face. “I like to think I’m hopeful.”
She walked away from the window, suddenly serious. “Why, Ian?”
“Why am I hopeful?”
“No. Why did you open the Raven Club? You are the son of an earl. How did you come to own the place?”
He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
He raked a hand through his hair. She wanted to soothe him but held herself still. She needed to know the truth. She wanted to understand the enigma of the man he’d become.
He walked to the sideboard, poured two brandies, and handed her one. “I was eighteen when my father arranged my betrothal to a country neighbor. The lady’s father, the Marquess of Landsdale, was as cunning and as ruthless as my father when it came to marrying off his daughters.”
“You were young. Why not arrange your older brother’s betrothal first?”
Ian sipped his brandy. “I asked myself the same question back then. The answer is simple. My father despised me and wanted me gone. Matthew was the golden child. He never argued with my father and always did his duty. I was the second son, the wastrel. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
It seemed unfair to Grace. The former earl did not sound like a good man or father. “What of the lady you were to marry? Did you know her?”
“Yes. I was childhood friends with Madeline.”
“Was she unattractive then?” Grace knew that the second sons of the aristocracy had few options. They could enter the clergy, purchase an army commission, or become scholars. She couldn’t see Ian in any of those positions, and she wondered why he hadn’t married the lady.
“She was pretty. Blonde, hazel eyes, and trim.”
“I don’t understand. If her father was a marquess, I assume she had a large dowry. Both fathers wanted the match. You were friends and she was lovely. Why oppose?”
“I grew up. She never did.”
Grace frowned in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“By the time Maddy was seventeen, her mind was still like that of a ten-year-old girl. She matured physically, but not mentally.”
Grace had never heard of such a condition, but she knew illnesses of the mind existed. “I’m sorry.”
Ian swirled the remaining brandy in his glass. “I had always felt protective of Maddy. I remember staying at the marquess’s home for a house party. One of the guests, a soldier, lured Maddy into the stables. I found him accosting her. My temper flared and I pummeled the man. I’ll never forget the look of fear on Maddy’s face. She was a friend, but I could never marry her.”
“Did your father know of her condition?” she asked.
“He didn’t care. He told me to beget my heir and then do as I wished. We had a terrible row, but he wouldn’t budge from his demands. He never cared for me, you see, and in his eyes the marriage was the only benefit he could obtain from his useless spare.”
Good God. Ian had been treated horribly. She couldn’t imagine a father forcing such an inappropriate match upon his son. “What of your mother? Did she side with you?”
His laughter did not reach his eyes. “My mother supported her husband. She never tried to convince the earl otherwise.”
She felt his intense disappointment. She couldn’t imagine Lady Castleton not protecting her younger son, but then what choice did the lady have? Her husband was a powerful earl. Divorce required an Act of Parliament, and she would lose all rights to her children.
“You left?”
“I did.”
“You opened the Raven Club.”
“Yes.”
His answers were short and curt. Something was missing. He had been only eighteen, and without a source of income, he would have lived on an allowance his father provided. If Ian was tossed out by the old earl, or he had left of his own accord, how had he survived? How had he obtained the funds to open a lavish gambling establishment such as the Raven Club?
“What did you do when you left home?”
“You already know the answer.” He waved his hand toward the window. “I opened the club with Brooks.”
She shook her head. “Opening a business takes capital. Unless
you stole your father’s silver when you left the earl’s home, where did you obtain it?”
Ian’s mouth curved into a smile. “I should have known better than to fool you. Once again, I’m intrigued by your business acumen.”
She stepped close and touched his chest. Even through the layers of broadcloth, she felt his heart beating strong. “Tell me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I became a bare-knuckled boxer for money,” Ian said.
“At eighteen?” The sport was brutal and he would have been fighting much older men.
“I was tall and fit. But the truth is that I had little choice. My funds were quickly depleted, and I needed a place to stay and food to eat. I met Brooks one night at a tavern. A bar brawl broke out, and I was in the thick of it. I was thrown out by the tavern owner, and Brooks followed me. He dragged me away, tended to my wounds, and fed me my first hot meal in weeks. He told me I had a solid punch and arranged for my first boxing match the following night.”
Saddened at the tale, her smile quickly faded. At eighteen, Ian was barely a man in her opinion—an earl’s son who’d been ousted from a life of privilege and forced to fight for his next meal.
“Did you win your matches?”
“Almost always,” he said, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “I saved my winnings and, over time, I had earned enough to open the club. Brooks went with me.”
“I see.”
His expression stilled and grew serious. “Do you?”
“Boxing is dangerous. Bare-knuckle boxing is far worse. I can’t imagine you would have lived a long, healthy life if you’d continued on that reckless path. The Raven Club gave you financial security.”
“It did. I was no longer the unwanted son who was dependent on my father for survival.”
“Your father was wrong, Ian. You were never a wastrel,” she said.
Ian’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “The old earl’s reasons were his own. I didn’t shed a tear when he died.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“He came to the club one day. He didn’t know it was my establishment. After he lost a good amount at my tables, I took great delight in enlightening him.”
How to Tempt an Earl_Raven Club Page 17