by Robyn DeHart
Cabot and Finley took their seats, yet, still there was utter silence at the table, as if everyone held a collected breath.
“Deal, man,” Roe said loudly.
The dealer popped the cards on the table, then quickly shuffled the deck, beginning the game anew. Perfect for Caroline to begin counting again.
Roe had taught her to play when she was fifteen and she’d come to live at his estate. He’d sat her down in his study one day and dealt the cards. She’d been a quick study for the game. He had never once mentioned the art of counting the cards so she could predict the odds of each hand. She’d struck on that notion on her own, though she’d never told him. But it was a skill that came quite easily to her and it enabled her to win. And to win a lot.
The cards were dealt, and she watched each player as they checked their hands and made their requests. She looked at her own hand. Twenty-one. A perfect hand.
There was a ghost of a smile on Roe’s lips when Caroline turned over her cards. Then the next hand was dealt.
“What the devil do you want with Constantine’s Shield?” Cabot asked abruptly.
Roe looked up over his cards and eyed Cabot, but said nothing.
Cabot shrugged. “Merely curious.”
Fascinating how suddenly Finley was the one who had grown stone quiet and Cabot was so talkative. His words surprised her, though. She would have thought Roe had given up his search for that artifact, since it had been so many years since he and Christopher had gone to Persia and looked for it. It had been the last time she’d seen her brother, though she’d received many letters from him while they’d been on their trip. He’d loved every moment of their journey, and she’d felt such warmth for the man who’d allowed her brother such a grand adventure.
“It’s an odd thing to be searching for, is all,” Cabot said. “Especially since there is no proof it actually exists.”
Roe once again eyed Cabot, bumping his chin out. “I happen to believe it is real, and I’ve looked for a long time. I’d like to see it found and put in a museum so others can enjoy it.”
“You’ve looked for it? It seems to me all you’ve done is hire one worthless crew after another,” Cabot said.
Roe flipped his cards over; he’d beaten the dealer by one.
She waited for him to argue with Cabot, to tell him about the fated trip he’d taken with Christopher when they’d both fallen ill. But Roe said nothing.
…
Three hands into the game and Roe knew everything he’d heard about this boy had been true. He was a very good player. Exceptional, really. It made Roe wish, for a moment, that the boy was truly why he’d breached that doorway and stepped into this room. But it had all been about Cabot. He’d suspected that, given the opportunity, Cabot would make inquiries. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. In all the years Roe had searched for that bloody antiquity, he’d learned one thing: archaeologists were as varied as any other men, but when it came to curiosity, they were all alike.
Cabot didn’t disappoint with his own inquisitive nature. It hadn’t taken the man ten minutes before he’d had to ask Roe about the quest, which meant that while he said he wouldn’t work for Roe, there was still a chance he’d change his mind.
The man had tossed out a challenge, one that Roe could meet. He could tell Cabot all about the excursion he and Christopher had taken. The truth was it would prove nothing, and Roe never talked about it. To anyone. So he allowed the bait to fall flat.
“I think that about does me for the night,” Cabot said. He grabbed his cane and pulled himself to his feet. “Good luck with that quest of yours,” he said to Roe.
“Indeed. Do let me know if you change your mind about working for me,” Roe said, but he never once allowed himself to look up at the man. He’d be damned if Cabot could see his desperation. For the evening, Roe would have to be satisfied that he’d actually met the man and had a conversation, as brief as it was.
The game continued. He couldn’t very well get up and leave now that Cabot was gone. Roe had claimed to want to play the boy and play him he would. The opponents at the table were decent; he couldn’t complain. And they were quieter than the blokes he played out in the big room. Curious, that. Almost as if these players took things a bit more seriously. Of course, they were playing with money they’d earned, rather than what they’d taken out of familial coffers.
He eyed the boy. Grey, as he’d introduced himself, studied his cards and kept his eyes on the table, watching each play. He never looked up at the players directly, instead choosing to watch their hands. They had different strategies. Roe studied the people, made his plays that way, though obviously, he took the cards into consideration. But he knew how to judge the men he played with, what kinds of cards they held, and what kinds of choices they’d make based on those cards. He worked out the probabilities for every combination of cards. It was those odds and probabilities that he liked most about this game. The cards the other players ended up with affected Roe’s hand.
It had taken him nearly a month to convince Justin to allow him back here. Tonight had been twofold and he could say he wasn’t disappointed in how things were playing out. Grey was a talented player, and now that Cabot had left, Roe could sit back and enjoy the sheer skill of the game. Roe scratched at the table, indicating he wanted another card. It was a five, bringing his total to nineteen. Now it was up to the dealer.
The dealer had twenty, beating Roe, while the boy turned over the coveted twenty-one. He was paid and solemnly collected his coins. And so continued the game. Grey won most of his hands, Roe won most of his. But Cabot’s words echoed in his mind. If he were a true gentleman, he’d invite someone to play at his table out front.
He wouldn’t invite Cabot, because that would be too obvious. But he’d extend an invitation to Grey, as that would have the same affect. For whatever reason, Cabot had decided Roe was unworthy in some regard and therefore, wouldn’t agree to work for him. Perhaps, if the man saw Roe being hospitable to the young man, he’d change his mind. Roe needed to invite the boy to play at his table.
…
Caroline waited nearly a week before returning to the gaming hell. Monroe’s appearance in the back room had spooked her. Not so much that she hadn’t won, of course. In fact, winning when Monroe was at the table had added a certain thrill to the proceedings. Nevertheless, in the cold light of the morning, it had seemed smarter to avoid him in the future.
So she had stayed away from Rodale’s, knowing he’d lose interest quickly enough. She knew better than anyone that Monroe had a very short attention span. The phrase “out of sight, out of mind” might have been invented for him.
“Grey, good to have you back,” Cabot said. “I thought perhaps the big, bad duke scared you away.”
She settled in at her usual table and gave Cabot a tight grin, not wanting to give him a full smile. “No, just been busy.”
“What’s your conflict with Chanceworth?” Finley asked Cabot.
Cabot shrugged. “He’s entitled, arrogant. I don’t much care for these lazy, wealthy men who sit in the convenience and comforts of their homes while the rest of us dig in the hot sand, get bitten by bloody snakes, and the damned titled fool gets all the credit for the discoveries.” Cabot gritted his teeth. “I don’t like that.”
“Evidently,” Finley said with a chuckle.
One of the men who worked at Rodale’s stepped over to the table. Caroline recognized him from her previous visits; he wasn’t a dealer, so she suspected he was some sort of manager. He looked directly at her.
“Mr. Grey, you’ve been invited to play at the Duke of Chanceworth’s table this evening,” the man said. “In the other room.”
Well, she had thought Monroe’s attention span was short. On the other hand, perhaps his memory wasn’t as faulty as she’d expected. She didn’t want to consider what it said about her that she was more memorable as a dirt-covered boy than when she was trussed up in her silken finery.
“That’
s quite an honor,” Finley said. “At least the duke will see it as such.”
“You’ll have to come back and report to us,” Cabot said. “Tell us all how it is on the other side.” The men in the room roared with laughter.
Boomer eyed her, but she gave him a quick shake of the head. She knew it would draw more attention for her to decline the invite than to simply accept, so she nodded.
“I’m Clipps,” the man said.
“I’m Grey.” She followed the man through the doors that connected this room with the main room. The difference was breathtaking.
She tried to school her features so as to not reveal her nerves, since she didn’t want to attract any more attention than was necessary. It would already be quite scandalous for a commoner to be invited out front to play a duke, but if that person was discovered to be a woman… Well, that would be more scandal than she could survive.
The room was nearly six times the size of the back room, and it boasted as many more tables and games. Dark, rich paneling covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and two large fireplaces flanked the broad wall in front of her. She followed Clipps as he led her through the maze of tables. Two roulette wheels sat over to her right, both surrounded by large, noisy crowds of men, and she spotted at least fifteen ladies of leisure moving around the room. Clipps continued to weave between the tables, stopping every now and again to speak to a patron or answer the question of a dealer. They finally stopped at one in the center of the gaming floor. A huge chandelier hung overhead, sparkling with what seemed like a million candles.
Roe sat amidst the other men, equally well-dressed, but looking impossibly broad-shouldered and handsome. She sucked in her breath.
Clipps chuckled. “Don’t fret the nerves, lad. He’s not nearly as ferocious as he appears.”
But she knew the truth: Monroe Grisham, Duke of Chanceworth, was about as dangerous a man as she could find, at least for her.
She merely nodded and tried to give a slight grin, but was certain it came out as more of a grimace. She took the seat offered her, which placed her directly across from Roe. Perfect. Now she would have to do everything she could to concentrate on the cards and keep her wandering eyes off her guardian and his beautiful face. It had been easy to do in the back room when he’d seemed far more interested in bantering with Cabot, but here, everyone was looking at her—or “the boy,” as it were.
She put her money out to buy into the game and the other men eyed her as if she’d crawled out of the gutter. If only they knew. Would they find it more or less offensive to be playing a woman than to be playing a man below their station? That thought alone gave her enough courage to face the first hand. So far, since taking her seat, no one, not even Roe, had spoken to her. She won her hand, but it was not terribly exciting considering the rest of the players did, too—the dealer had gone over with his cards.
Roe settled his glance on Caroline. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” he said evenly.
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice. You are a duke.”
Two of the men at the table chuckled, the other one seemed offended.
Roe smiled, then cocked his head. “Perceptive of you.”
They continued playing for a while, then one of the prostitutes sauntered over to their table. This was one distraction the men in the back didn’t have to suffer. Naturally, the women would be out here, where the bulk of the wealth sat.
The woman walked around the table, running her hand along the backs of the men as she moved. She stopped behind Roe, moved her hands up his broad back, and then whispered something in his ear. He laughed.
Caroline had never before seen a prostitute, but she felt certain this one was of a higher class than those who worked the dark alleys and down by the docks. This woman was actually quite pretty, if not for the age beginning to show in her face. Tiny lines fanned out from her eyes and the same lines marked the tender skin above her painted lips. Her dress was clean and stylish though exceptionally low-cut, revealing more of her breasts than Caroline felt necessary. Then again, this woman was selling her wares, so she might as well give the men a peek at the merchandise.
The woman, whom one man referred to as Reggie, made her way around the table. She stood up straighter when she saw Caroline.
“What do we have here?” she purred. “A new player, and a young one, too.” She ran her hands up and down Caroline’s upper arms. “My, my, aren’t you a skinny thing. Might need to get you some food to fatten you up.” Then Reggie gave her an exaggerated wink. “I can think of some other activities to fatten up a certain part of you right now.”
Caroline froze, looked up, and was caught in Roe’s glance.
Chapter Three
The brown eyes staring back at him were rounded in surprise. Roe cocked one eyebrow. Reggie was doing her best to tempt the boy into some sort of reaction, but Grey sat stone still.
“Reggie, I don’t think the boy is interested,” Roe said.
She laughed, a throaty sound that usually had men lining up for her favors, despite the cost. Roe had never bedded the woman, but he’d heard tales that she was worth every penny.
“He’s merely getting warmed up. Aren’t you, love?” she asked.
She leaned close to the boy’s ear and whispered something. If it was anything like what she’d previously whispered in Roe’s ear, it had to do with smoking his cock. The boy’s eyes widened even further and he shook his head. Reggie wasn’t deterred, though. She moved herself to the boy’s side and somehow managed to wiggle herself onto his lap. Her breasts were dangerously close to the boy’s face and Reggie stretched herself so that they thrust forward even more.
She reached up to the boy’s hat, but she was no match for his quick reflexes. Grey’s hands were smaller than Reggie’s, but the force of his movement stopped the woman cold. Reggie’s gaze sharpened and narrowed in on Grey, then she relaxed a bit and smiled.
Once more, Reggie whispered something in Grey’s ear. This time a pink stain crept up the boy’s throat, neck, and into his cheeks. He was blushing. Peculiar, that, even if he was an innocent; most boys were not much for blushing. Roe’s eyes went back to the boy’s throat, where his shirt was buttoned close to his neck, the jacket held tight. It was quite evident he was missing something decidedly masculine—an Adams apple.
Roe sat back, surprise bursting through him. Well, wasn’t that something.
It took a lot to catch him off guard. A lot to surprise him. And yet, Grey had managed to do both.
Roe knew one thing for certain: that was not a boy.
That was most assuredly a woman.
The following day, Roe was roused by a scratch at his door. He rolled over and spears of light penetrated his eyes. He squeezed them shut again. “What time is it?”
“It’s a quarter of eleven, Your Grace,” Harris, his valet, said as he stepped into the room.
“Who is here?” He sat up in the bed and rubbed at his temples. Not enough damn sleep. But then again, when did he get enough? He hadn’t slept an entire night since before Christopher had died.
“Mr. Toomey is here to see you. He’s in your study,” Harris said.
“Indeed. Worthless bastard.”
“Beg your pardon?” Harris asked while laying out Roe’s clothes.
“Nothing.” He came to his feet and stretched his arms, then rolled his neck, trying to work out the knots in his body. He allowed his man to dress him, but waved him away when he came at Roe with the cravat. “Too bloody early for one of those.”
Harris’s lips twitched, but the man did not smile.
“See that coffee is brought into my study immediately.” Roe left his room and made his way down the staircase to the corridor that led to his study. The damned room still hosted all of his father’s abacuses. Clearly, Roe should donate the collection to a museum. He sure as hell didn’t want them. Odd that he hadn’t yet rid himself of their presence.
My Toomey stood in the study, holding one said abacus in his
hands. “Great piece,” he said as Roe entered the room.
“Do you have news for me?” Roe went to his desk and sat.
His butler entered the room with a tray of coffee and set it on the desk next to Roe. “Anything else, Your Grace?”
Roe didn’t bother asking for anything for his guest. Toomey was a paid employee just like any of his others. “No, that will be all.” He poured himself a cup as the butler left the room, closing the doors behind him.
Toomey came and sat in a chair opposite Roe’s. Roe had hired the man several months before based on several recommendations. He was a noted archeologist, not as skilled as Cabot, but still accomplished in his own right, though he had yet to prove particularly useful regarding Roe’s quest.
“I have some news, but not the news you’ve been waiting for. The excavation of that temple is complete and the shield is nowhere to be found. It must be in a different location all together,” Toomey said.
It was an obvious assumption that had they not discovered the piece yet it must be somewhere else. But Roe resisted the urge to point that out. It would do him no good at all to anger the man. Toomey’s services were widely desired, and until Cabot agreed to hunt for the shield, then Toomey would have to suffice.
“You know Cabot?” Roe asked him. He took a hearty sip of the black coffee, relishing the way the hot liquid brought life to his tired bones.
Toomey frowned slightly, then bobbed his head. “We’ve met, on occasion. I heard he got bit by a viper. Dangerous and nasty creatures. It’s why I carry this with me at all times.” He withdrew a sizeable knife from a sheath attached to his pant leg. “Cuts their heads clean off.”
“Appetizing,” Roe said.
“Cabot doesn’t like to work with you titled men,” Toomey said. “He prefers to fund his own expeditions, though he has been known to take assignments directly from the museums.”
Now that was something Roe had not considered. If he spoke to a curator, shared with him the research he’d done and where he thought the artifact was hidden, perhaps they would agree to contact Cabot for the quest. “You don’t mind, do you, Toomey? Taking my money and looking for my antiquity?”