by C. J. Archer
"Why did he win?" I whispered. "You had a pair of threes and sixes."
"He was bluffing. I folded too early." She picked up one of her coins and rubbed its surface with her thumb as if she were trying to remove the queen's face. She seemed in no mood to answer any more of my questions.
Lord Travers draped his arm across the back of my chair and leaned so close to me I could hear his moist smile. "My dear girls, why not call it a night? This is no place for lovely roses. We thorns might prick you." His guffaw had heads at the other tables turning.
"Speaking of pricks," one gentleman muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
A sprinkle of laughter filled the room, led by Travers himself.
He won the next two rounds, much to Willie's annoyance. She tossed her cards into the middle of the table and sat back in the chair, arms folded over her chest. She was down to her last five shillings.
"Your friend doesn't like to lose," Travers said in my ear.
I swayed away from him. "I'm quite sure nobody likes to lose."
Willie's flinty glare slid toward him. She hunched over the table and scooped her coins toward her like a protective mother cat. Lord Travers chuckled. His fingers skimmed my shoulder up to the bare skin above my collar. I shivered and recoiled.
"Would you care for a drink, ladies?" asked the blue-eyed gentleman who'd suddenly appeared between Willie and me. He addressed me, but his hard gaze fell upon Travers at my other side. "Why not join me in the refreshments room, miss? All this poker is making my head spin."
"Thank you." I put out my hand. "I think I will."
He led me away from the table. Willie didn't seem to notice that I'd left, and even Travers didn't seem to care all that much. He simply returned his monocle to his eye and studied the new hand he'd been dealt.
The gentleman steered me to the adjoining room where sandwiches and little cakes were set out on the table. A long white tablecloth edged with lace draped to the lushly carpeted floor. Decanters and glasses stood ready on a sideboard, their crystal facets glinting in the candlelight cast by the overhead chandelier.
"Brandy?" he asked. "Wine? Sherry?"
"Brandy. Thank you for your gallant rescue, sir. I appreciate it."
He smiled at me over his shoulder. Although he wasn't a strikingly handsome man, he had a friendly smile and clear blue eyes. I guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, going by the lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes and stretching across his forehead. "I'm at your service. Miss Steele, was it?"
I nodded and joined him at the sideboard.
"My name is Dorchester." He poured two brandies from a decanter and handed one of the tumblers to me. "To your health, Miss Steele."
I sipped and eyed him over the rim of the glass. "Have you learned anything tonight, Mr. Dorchester?"
"I've learned not to play poker with Lord Travers."
"He does seem to win a lot." And have roaming hands.
"Your friend is an interesting character. Did I catch an accent?"
"Willie's American."
He made a face.
"You don't like Americans?" I asked.
"I've only met two, and they were somewhat brash, boastful fellows. They lacked polish and sophistication, if you know what I mean."
I simply smiled. While Willie and Duke certainly fit that description, Mr. Glass didn't, and I wasn't yet sure what to make of Cyclops. "What brings you to this gambling house?"
"Gambling." He grinned. "I'd heard about this new game of poker and decided to see what it was all about. I admit that I enjoy the thrill of winning, but I'm cautious too. I never wager more than I can afford to lose."
"Hence the evening spent observing rather than participating?"
"Indeed. And you, Miss Steele? Are you planning on returning to try your hand at poker another night?"
"I don't gamble." I had nothing to wager with, but even then I couldn't see the appeal.
"Perhaps you'll simply come and keep your American friend company again. It would make the evening more interesting if you were here." He smiled again.
Heat crept up my face. I sipped to hide it. "Are you from London, Mr. Dorchester?"
He shook his head. "I studied here in my youth, but reside in Manchester. I'm in manufacturing."
"Oh? Your accent sounds pure London to me." And upper class at that.
"So I've been told. I must have picked it up years ago." He sipped. "So tell me how a nice English girl winds up at a gambling den with an American woman who dresses like a man."
I laughed. "It's a long story."
"I have all night."
"Don't you want to return to the poker table?"
"Not when there is a more interesting option." Those lovely blue eyes fixed on me, and my face flamed.
I searched for something to say, but could only smile pathetically and sip my brandy. I was saved from responding by two men who joined us at the sideboard. They sported the cocky swagger of youth dipped in privilege and money. One poured drinks and the other, more portly fellow, helped himself to the cakes. The one with the drinks leaned back against the sideboard and downed the contents of one of the glasses.
"What's your name?" he asked me.
"Miss Steele," I said.
His pale gray gaze slipped over me, lingering on my chest, my throat, my mouth. His top lip curled into an indolent smile. "I'll double whatever he's paying," he said with a jerk of his head at Mr. Dorchester.
I blinked. "Pardon?"
He rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend innocence, Miss Steele. It's not going to earn you anything more with us."
Us? I glanced at his companion. He sneered, but thanks to the dusting of sugar on his lips, it didn't seem quite as sinister as his friend's. Even so, I knew what these men wanted and what they thought I was selling. I backed away.
"You're mistaken, sir," I said with as much courage as I could muster. "I'm not what you think I am."
"Course you are. Why else would you be here?"
Why indeed?
Mr. Dorchester stepped between the gentleman and me. He was shorter by a full head, but strongly built, where the other man was slender and wiry. "Kindly leave Miss Steele alone."
"I'm not paying a penny more," the gentleman snarled. "Your doxy isn't worth the double I'm offering."
Before my gasp had left my lips, Mr. Dorchester grabbed the man's coat at his chest and lifted him clear off his feet. The fellow swung his fist but missed. Mr. Dorchester threw him bodily against the wall. A moment later, Unger rushed in, and at least a half dozen gamblers crowded in the doorway behind him. More than one sniggered at the dazed looking fellow on the floor.
"India?" I could hear Willie before I could see her. She managed to push through the small crowd and rushed up to me. She clasped my forearms and searched my face. "What happened? Are you all right?"
"Quite, thank you." My hands shook and my heart pounded, but I wouldn't admit that to Willie. I was unharmed, after all, and the danger was over now.
She blew out a long breath and checked me over once again. "Thank God. Matt would haul me over hot coals if something happened to you."
Mr. Dorchester looked up sharply then away. He scratched his jaw but stopped suddenly and dropped his hand to his side. It was as if he didn't know what to do with it, or with himself, now that all eyes were on us both.
Willie eyed the fellow slumped groggily on the floor. "What happened?"
"Mr. Dorchester defended my honor against that man," I said.
Willie grunted. "Your honor?"
Mr. Dorchester straightened his tie. "It's impolite to call a lady a doxy."
"A doxy!" Willie hooted with laughter and kicked the shoe of the fellow on the floor. "Are you blind, sir? She's tied up tighter than a miser's purse strings. Wait'll I tell Duke and Cyclops. They'll laugh 'till their sides split."
I thrust my hand onto my hip. "And Mr. Glass? Will you tell him?"
Her grin faded. "Best not to tell him, unless you don't want t
o come here again."
At that moment, I didn't care if I never set foot in this gambling house or any other again. I'd wanted to be a little reckless and experience something I'd never done before, but staying in with a good book now seemed more appealing.
"This is why you should forbid women," one of the gamblers said to Mr. Unger. "They cause trouble."
"I'll have to ask you to leave, sir," said Mr. Unger to Mr. Dorchester. "No fisticuffs. House rules."
Mr. Dorchester held up his hands. "I understand."
"He was protecting me," I protested. "You should ask that fellow to leave. He started the trouble."
"Lord Dennison and Mr. Fryer-Smythe are regulars here." He nodded at the friend who'd set aside his cake to help his companion to his feet. "They've caused no problems prior."
"It's quite all right, Miss Steele," said Mr. Dorchester. "I don't think poker is for me, and there are other gambling dens in the city willing to take my money."
"But it's not fair!" I said. "You don't deserve this treatment."
He took my hand between both of his. "I'm tired anyway. May I be so bold as to suggest you leave now too, for your own safety?"
"Not yet," Willie said before I could respond. Her mouth set into a determined line. "I need to win back what I lost first."
"Or lose more!" called Lord Travers from the other room.
"Mr. Dorchester is right," I said. "We should go."
Willie seemed not to hear me. She marched back to the gambling room and resumed her seat at the poker table. She tapped her finger on the surface. "Deal."
"Would you like me to escort you home?" Mr. Dorchester asked as the others returned to their seats.
While the offer was tempting, I refused. I didn't know him well enough to walk alone with him in the dark. "I'll wait for Willie."
"Very well. But do be careful, Miss Steele. I'd hate to think of anything happening to you." He bowed. "It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance. I hope we meet again." He collected his hat, coat and gloves and spoke quietly to Mr. Unger, perhaps seeking assurance from him that I wouldn't come to any harm. Mr. Unger glanced at me then nodded, and Mr. Dorchester left.
I was sorry to see him go; not because I missed his company, but because it meant I ought to remain in the gambling room and not retire to the refreshment room. The fellow who'd called me a doxy—Lord Dennison—had fully recovered. He sauntered out too, a glass in hand, and leaned a hip against the roulette table. His cold eyes watched me and his lips twisted. I shivered again.
Lord Travers patted the empty chair beside him. "Come sit by me, Miss Steele. I'll keep you warm."
"I prefer to stand," I said and moved to the hearth behind Willie's chair.
They played a few rounds, with either Lord Travers or Willie winning most hands, even when they lacked good cards. I couldn't tell when either of them was bluffing, but Lord Travers seemed to have Willie's measure. He also had more winning card combinations.
I grew bored so picked up the carriage clock on the mantel. It was running perfectly well, but I removed its casing and inspected its mechanisms anyway. I ran my thumb over the wheels, feeling comfort in the familiar parts and their small yet precise movements. The metal warmed to my touch. I would have taken it apart and put it back together again for something to do, but I didn't have my tools with me. I replaced the back casing and returned it to the mantel.
After half an hour, the other two players on the poker table retired, having lost everything, and Lord Travers possessed most of the money. Willie was down to her last coins, and I found myself hoping she would lose so we could go home. According to the clock, it was half-two. I wanted to go to bed. My heart sank when I saw the three tens in her hand. A winning hand now would keep her here longer.
She pondered her cards for some time then pushed all of her coins forward.
Lord Travers matched her wager without hesitation, and added an entire stack more. Willie couldn't possibly meet it.
She lifted her brows at Mr. Unger who'd come to watch.
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Johnson, but the bank only lends money to patrons well known to us. If you return to America, we have no way to get our funds back."
She swore under her breath.
Lord Travers chuckled. "Surely you have something of value that you can wager, Miss Johnson." He licked his fleshy lips, wetting them even more. "Or your friend does."
Surely he didn't mean me? I recoiled. "Willie, it's time to go."
But I may as well have not been present. She didn't seem to hear me. She passed her hand over her chin, down her neck, and let it rest on her décolletage.
Lord Travers leered at me. The gamblers at the other tables had all stopped and now watched us with interest. The fellow who'd called me a doxy ambled over and leaned down to Travers' level to whisper in his ear. Travers snickered and licked his lips again.
"Come now, Miss Johnson," he said, "where's that American pluck you displayed the past few nights. You're not a coward, are you?"
Willie bristled. "Of course not."
I pressed Willie's shoulder. "You don't have any more money," I hissed. "Let's go."
"I have this." She pulled out a chain from beneath her shirt, at the end of which dangled a gold locket the size of a farthing. "My grandmother gave it to me before she died. It was her wedding present from my grandfather. It's all I have of them."
Travers looked disappointed. "Sure you want to wager it?"
Willie hesitated then nodded. She held it out for Travers to inspect.
He weighed it in his palm before opening it and inspecting the miniatures inside. "A handsome couple. I accept."
"Willie, is that wise?" I whispered. "What if you lose it?"
"I won't lose."
Lord Travers placed the locket with Willie's coins and rested his hand on the seat next to his thigh. "We'll see, shall we?" He returned both hands to his cards, fanning them out on the table. "Full house."
I'd not seen that combination of cards all night, but I knew it must be good. Willie's white face confirmed it. She looked like she would faint as she stared hard at her own cards, perhaps willing them to be better.
With a click of her tongue, she threw her cards on the table. She stood, shoving back her chair. "You cheated!"
Lord Travers laughed as he scooped his winnings toward him. Willie's locket glinted in the light. "Now, now, Miss Johnson. Don't be a sore loser."
"You cheated!" she shouted again. "You had a card under your leg. I saw you remove it and add it to your hand!"
Travers slipped the locket into his dinner jacket pocket. "What rot. Did I cheat, gentlemen?"
The other gamblers shook their heads.
"Stand up!" Willie growled. "You must have placed the card you removed from your original hand somewhere. Let's see under your fat ass."
"Willie!" I tugged on her arm, but she shook me off. "Please let's go."
"Listen to your friend, Miss Johnson." Travers collected the cards on the table and shuffled them. "Be a good girl and go home before you say something you regret." He stopped shuffling and eyed me. "Unless you're willing to wager something else."
I straightened. "That's quite enough of that. You may be a lord, but your behavior is deplorable. As is yours, sir," I spat at Lord Dennison.
Travers laughed around the cigar in his mouth, sending ash onto his lap. "Hear that, Dennison? The little chit thinks she can lecture us. She deserves a good spanking to be put back in her place."
I gasped and looked to Mr. Unger for assistance, but he merely shrugged an apology. I would get no help from him. Travers was worth too much to his business to risk offending him. And Mr. Dorchester, my only champion, was gone.
I grabbed Willie's arm. "Let's go. Now!"
But she didn't move. She bared her teeth and pointed her finger at Travers. "You're a low down dirty cheat and I will prove it. Stand up!"
Travers sprawled in his chair and grinned around his cigar. "Make me, little girl."
"Oh, I will, with the help of my friend, Mr. Colt." Willie jerked her coat aside and pulled out the gun tucked into the waistband of her trousers.
Several men fell back, bumping into one another in their haste to remove themselves from the vicinity, but none left the room. All were glued to the scene.
"Willie, no!" I cried. "Don't!"
But I might as well not have spoken. "Stand up, Travers," she said.
He placed his hand on the seat near his thigh again. "It's 'my lord' to you, miss, and no, I will not."
"For God's sake, move!" I shouted at him. "She will use it."
"I'm not afraid of a girl," Travers said with a chuckle.
Willie squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened. She frowned and inspected the cylinder. She spun it round and round. It was empty. "Damn him!"
My heart sank. Mr. Glass must have removed the bullets after the shooting episode of the previous night. I wanted to swear as loudly as Willie. While I didn't want her to shoot anyone, we now had no weapons to defend ourselves. And the men knew it. They advanced.
Lord Dennison and his friend, Smythe-something-or-other, grinned like madmen and approached with slow, predatory steps. Dennison rubbed his crotch. Travers sat back and watched, smiling with those fishy, wet lips of his.
"That's it, gentlemen," he said, chomping down on his cigar. "Teach 'em how to respect us."
"On your knees," Dennison ordered, pointing at me. He fumbled with the opening of his trousers and his tongue darted out to lick his top lip.
His companion wiped beads of sweat from his brow. His breathing became ragged. I glanced at the men behind them, but none came to our aid. All watched with keen interest. This nightmare couldn't be happening. Surely I would wake up soon. My weak knees were very real, however, and so were the men leering at us with lust in their eyes.
I touched Willie's hand. Her fingers curled around mine and gripped hard. My heart plunged to my toes. I'd hoped she had something up her sleeve, but it would seem the gun had been her only security guard. Without it, she was as vulnerable as me. We were two women up against more than a dozen men, and she was as terrified as me. We didn't stand a chance.
Chapter 11