“Sit down, brother,” Dante said. “The woman can fill her own plate.”
Amelia sat in the chair Driscoll had pulled out for her.
“I thought you were anxious to change your shirt, Dante.” Driscoll glared at his brother.
“Yes. I do need to change, but I wouldn’t miss this show for the world.” He grinned, but not in a friendly way, and Amelia’s appetite vanished. She took a sip of her tea and tried to eat since she had no idea when her next meal would be.
“Please pay no attention to my brother, Miss Pence.” Driscoll scowled in his direction. “I know it’s hard to believe, but despite his glib remarks, underneath his façade he is a decent person. Most times.”
Amelia wasn’t so sure about that, but she tried her best to eat. Once she got started, she realized despite the meal she’d eaten the night before—in the middle of the night, actually—she was still quite hungry this morning.
Once she finished, with—thankfully—the brothers speaking about the previous night’s winnings with each other and ignoring her, she pushed her plate aside and wiped her mouth. That seemed to be a signal between the brothers to begin questioning her.
“Miss Pence, I understand if you do not wish to tell us why you find yourself in the position you are in. However, if we are to offer you any assistance, we need to know at least a bit more about you.” Driscoll pushed his spectacles up farther on his nose. “Please.”
Amelia gathered her thoughts and realized there was scant information she could provide since her life had been unexceptional. At least until she was offered as a wager, then got up the nerve to escape her stepbrother and climb a tree.
“Why don’t you start with why neither of us recognize your name?” Dante took the lead in questioning which immediately put her on edge. “We are familiar with almost all of London. Our patrons come from the nobility, the upper merchant class and the newly arrived American wealthy. Yet, Pence isn’t a name we’ve heard before.”
“I have spent most of my life in the country.” She was going to tell the truth as much as she could without them learning who her brother was. Her governess from years ago had been adamant that it was far easier to keep one’s story straight if it did not contain lies.
Driscoll nodded, seeming pleased that she at least answered one of their questions. “What brought you to London? Did you come for the purpose of joining Society and making your come-out?”
Amelia tried very hard not to laugh. A come-out? Should she tell these nice men her only come-out would be a forced introduction into the demimonde?
“No.” She could not tell them she’d been ordered by her stepbrother to vacate the lovely family home in the country that she’d lived in most of her life because he’d rented it out from under her. Had she known at the time about his evil plans for her, she would have attempted to secure a position as a companion or a governess. Even working in a shop would be preferable to what her future currently looked like.
“I don’t suppose you wish to tell us where you are currently living in London?” Driscoll leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He was so very nice and comfortable. Just speaking to him made her feel as though nothing bad would happen to her.
Then she realized she was dreaming, and this man was in no way responsible for her well-being. For all she knew he had a wife and several children for whom he was currently caring.
She found that to be a depressing thought.
Besides, she’d stopped believing in fairy tales when she was a child. There was no knight in shining armor going to ride up to The Rose Room and sweep her away on his white horse to live happily ever after in his castle.
She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid I cannot.”
The brothers looked at each other, Dante Rose with raised brows and Driscoll with what only could be described as sympathy.
Unfortunately, that was her undoing. All the pent-up anger and fear she’d lived with since she had snuck out of her stepbrother’s house rose to the surface and decided to make its presence known in a torrent of tears.
“Aw, shite,” Dante said.
4
Driscoll looked frantically at his brother when Miss Pence covered her eyes and began to cry. Hell, wail was more like it.
“What should we do?” he asked Dante.
Dante shrugged. “Nothing. Let her cry it out. With your lack of knowledge and skill with the ladies, you haven’t learned that these fits come on once in a while. Mostly when they want something, and you’ve said ‘no’.”
“That seems a rather cruel assessment.”
“But true. If you’re disposed to do so, you can put your arm around her shoulders and pat her back a few times.”
“And that seems rather personal.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “Then hand her a handkerchief. Women never seem to have one on them when these fits come on.”
“I’d hardly call it a fit. I think she is very distressed.”
Dante nodded in her direction. “Clearly.”
Miss Pence lowered her hands and glared at them. “I am right here, you know. I can hear everything you’re saying.” She wiped her cheeks and accepted the handkerchief Driscoll handed her.
She used it to blow her nose. “I will wash this and return it.”
Driscoll waved his hand in dismissal. “No matter. I have dozens of them.”
She took a deep breath. “I apologize for my unacceptable behavior.”
Driscoll leaned over and patted her hand. “That is all right. No need to apologize.” He glanced at Dante, who was obviously enjoying the show. Sometimes he felt the need to plant a facer on his brother.
Now was one of those times.
“If you have nowhere to go, we can. . .” Driscoll glanced sideways at Dante. “Offer you a job.”
“What?” Dante almost shouted. Miss Pence began to cry again. Driscoll threw up his hands and wished himself in his office going over his books. That was safe for him. Dealing with people, especially women in distress, was definitely not his forte.
Dante might mock him about his lack of female company, but he preferred to be discreet and discriminating. No, he did not employ a mistress, the idea did not appeal, but he had enough encounters with women anxious to share the bed of one of the notorious Rose brothers to satisfy his needs, but never felt it was necessary to boast about it.
He glared at his brother. “I said we can offer Miss Pence a job.” He waved in her direction. “She obviously has nowhere to go.”
“We know nothing about her!”
“How much do we know about others we employ? The maids, the counters?”
“And what do you propose to have the chit do?”
A sharp intake of breath had both brothers looking at Miss Pence.
“I have not lost my hearing since the last time the two of you spoke as though I wasn’t present.” She stood, straightened her shoulders, and pushed in her chair. “I believe I will leave you now.” She turned to Driscoll. “Thank you for the warm,” she glared at Dante, “and empty bed and food. I do appreciate it.”
Then she drew herself up, her cool assessment—despite her puffy red eyes—proving to Driscoll that this woman was a lady. Despite wearing trousers and climbing trees, she had been raised with all the accoutrements of nobility. “For your information, Mr. Rose, I am not a ‘chit’.”
Before she made it through the doorway, Driscoll jumped from his seat and blocked the exit. If she were in trouble, he could not abandon her.
“Again, Mr. Rose?” Her smile was more a smirk than not.
“I apologize for my brother. I have the right to hire and fire people, as does Dante and my other brother, Hunt. Therefore, I am offering you a job at The Rose Room.”
Dante leaned back in his chair again, grinning. “In what capacity, big brother?”
“To be determined.” Driscoll walked Miss Pence back to the chair she had just abandoned. “Please. Have a seat. I will send for hot tea and we can figure this out.”
Once Miss Pence was seated, Dante slapped his thighs and stood. “I still need to change my shirt and start supervising the opening of the club.” He whacked Driscoll on his shoulder. “I leave you to straighten this all out.” With a slight wink in Miss Pence’s direction, he said, “Welcome to The Rose Room, Miss Pence.”
Miss Pence’s eyes followed Dante from the room, her jaw slack. She shook her head. “Your brother is a very strange man, Mr. Rose. I got the distinct impression that he had no use for me and was about to toss me out the door.”
Driscoll continued to stare at the door that Dante had just exited. “Yes. He is a tad on the different side.”
He then took a seat across from her just as one of the maids brought in a fresh pot of tea. “Miss Pence, please help yourself to tea and we will discuss the situation.”
She poured for herself and although he was not in need of any more tea, he accepted a cup from her.
Driscoll laid his cup in the saucer and leaned his elbows on the table. “We need to find a position for you that is suitable.” He was convinced she was a lady, and he could not give her a job as a maid. The idea of having her serve drinks crossed his mind, but only briefly. Thinking of her walking around the gaming floor with some of the lecherous patrons they were known to have didn’t sit well with him at all.
He would never allow anyone to touch her in his presence.
“Are you familiar with the game vingt-et-un?”
She thought for a minute. “That is a card game, correct?”
“Yes. Do you know how to play it?” If he could give her a job dealing at the vingt-et-un table it would keep her away from roaming hands, and he could keep an eye on her.
“I have played it a bit, but I wouldn’t say I was good at it.”
Driscoll leaned forward, excitement building when he remembered Marcus Sedgewick, one of the current vingt-et-un dealers had expressed a wish to leave that position and take up a security guard opening that was coming up when John Marshall took his pension in a few weeks.
* * *
Amelia studied Driscoll as his face lit up.
“Are you willing to learn? It’s not hard and the game doesn’t require a lot of knowledge or skill. You merely deal the cards to yourself and those sitting at the table. If you are somewhat familiar with it, you know the idea is to get as close as you can to twenty-one with your cards, but not go over it.”
She nodded. “Yes, that much I know. But don’t you want dealers who can win for you?”
“The house—which is what we call ourselves, the owners—has a built-in edge. Also, many players do not know when to quit which helps us. Also, our tables do not allow a player to double after splitting. Those house advantages make play more profitable for us.”
“Oh, that is interesting.” She couldn’t believe she was sitting here discussing a job at a gaming club. If her poor deceased mother could see her now, she would be horrified. However, when one considered what her alternative was right now—mistress to Mr. Lyons—this was immensely preferable.
“Yes, I could do that. I would need some practice, though.” Relief flooded her when she realized this man might be her knight in shining armor after all.
He reached out and covered her hand with his. “I know you are running from something—” She started to pull her hand back. “No. Just hear me out. I won’t insist you tell me, but I need to know a few things.”
She gave him a brief nod, wondering if all her joy was to come to an end.
“I assume since you climbed through my window that you have no place to stay?”
She offered a curt nod.
“I would be willing to allow you to stay in the bedroom you slept in last night until you receive your wages and are able to secure a room in a woman’s boarding house.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“You may take your meals here, even after you move out—all our employees do. I can also advance you a small sum to buy a dress and whatever else you need, since we can’t have you dealing cards in trousers.” His smile changed his entire face. She thought him pleasant looking until he smiled, then Driscoll Rose was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.
She immediately chastised herself. The last thing she needed with the mess she was facing was an attraction to a man. Her initial plan to make enough money to move somewhere her stepbrother couldn’t find her hadn’t changed. Even though Randolph had been banned from this club, there was always the chance he could be allowed back. As much as she’d like to ask Mr. Rose to not permit that, she couldn’t without telling him her story and then risking him notifying her stepbrother. At present she considered her new employer a nice man, but there was no reason to trust him just yet.
He studied her for a minute and seemed to fidget in his chair. “One more thing.”
Her spirits took a downward plunge. She licked her dry lips. Here it comes, the one thing that will make her walk away. “What is that, Mr. Rose?”
“I would feel much more comfortable if you wore a mask when you worked. We can find you something that one would wear to a masquerade ball.”
Amelia was stunned and her descending spirits rose again. “I think that is an excellent idea.” In the off chance that one of Randolph’s cronies was a member of the club, she needn’t worry about being recognized.
Not that she’d spent any time with Randolph and his friends, but she did see some of them when they came to the house.
Driscoll continued. “It appears you have no belongings, so I suggest you take care of that issue today. This afternoon, I will send one of the maids with you to the store—” He stopped when she began to shake her head furiously.
She could not go to stores. “I don’t wish to be more of a burden than I already am, but perhaps I can just borrow a dress from one of the female employees?”
The way he sat back and continued to stare at her with those deep brown eyes had her now squirming in her chair. It was almost as if he could see inside her, see her trepidation, feel her anxiety.
His next words proved he allowed, if not fully understood, her reluctance. “I will have you get together with Margie, another of our maids. You will instruct her on your needs, and she will purchase them. I will give you the receipts which we will deduct from your wages over the next few weeks.”
She blew out the breath she’d been holding, just waiting for Mr. Rose to rescind his offer of employment and send her on her way.
There was no way she could stop the tears that gathered in her eyes, the relief was that great. She would not cry again in front of this man. She surreptitiously blotted the corners of her eyes, but the movement was not lost on him who offered her a soft smile. “Everything will be all right, Miss Pence.”
She nodded, not too sure if her voice would hold if she tried to speak. After swallowing the lump in her throat a few times, she said, “Thank you so very much.”
He stood and offered her his hand as if she were a true lady in a ballroom. She accepted it and stood, the warmth from his hand doing strange things to her insides. However, that she could not allow.
Not now. Not ever.
5
Driscoll searched the building for about fifteen minutes before he found his brother leaning against the doorway to the storage room, flirting with the very maid Driscoll was looking for. “Dante, the game room is not going to ready itself.”
Dante winked at Margie who blushed furiously. She glanced sideways at Driscoll and dipped slightly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rose.”
His brother leaned down and spoke close to Margie’s ear. “Don’t let my brother frighten you. He never did learn how to deal with the ladies, and I fear he’s a bit jealous.”
Ignoring him, Driscoll said, “Margie, I need you to run an errand for me.”
Dante sauntered off leaving the poor maid flustered. He really should not encourage them this way. Dante employed a mistress and had no intention of taking a wife, so flirting and teasing with the maids was cruel
. But then as Dante pointed out, Driscoll did not exactly have an abundance of women looking to flirt with him.
That thought brought to mind the lovely young lady he just left who he’d agreed to help even though he had no reason to trust her. But then again, he had no reason not to trust her. She could have stolen what she wanted from the room she slept in the night before and made off in the morning with whatever she wanted before anyone had awakened.
“How can I help you?” Margie said after she’d recovered from Dante’s blasted flirting.
“Remember the young lady Betsy brought clothes to last evening?”
“Yes. She said she was a guest of yours.” Again, the blush.
Driscoll hurried on. “Yes, she was a guest, but not that kind. . .” He was afraid his face was as red as Margie’s. He coughed to cover his unease and continued. “The young lady, Miss Pence, had to leave her home unexpectedly. I have just hired her, and she needs a few items of clothing to be able to work.”
The devil take it, he was blushing again. This was ridiculous. Margie was his employee, and he had no reason to be uncomfortable. Let her think what she wanted.
“You will find her upstairs in the bedroom. She will give you a list of things she needs.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew some bills and handed them to her. “This should cover what you will purchase. Be sure to bring me the receipts since I will be deducting the cost from her wages.”
Margie’s eyes grew wide as she accepted the money. There. That should stop any gossip.
“Is Miss Pence to be another maid?”
He shook his head. “No, she will be working on the gaming floor.”
More raised eyebrows. “A woman, sir?”
“Yes. Now go on up and get the list and hurry along.”
He took a deep breath as Margie hurried off. Now he could return to his work and go over the last evening’s receipts. He preferred that to dealing with uncomfortable requests of maids and thoughts of Miss Pence sliding trousers down her shapely legs and changing into lady’s undergarments.
A Lady’s Trust Page 3