A Lady’s Trust

by Callie Hutton

  Bloody hell. What was wrong with him?

  About four hours later he was fully engrossed in his work and had managed to put Miss Pence and her clothing issues far from his mind. He felt better, more in balance with his usual self.

  A soft knock on the office door drew his attention. The door opened and Miss Pence stuck her head in. “Do you have a free minute?”

  “Certainly.” He waved her in. And immediately lost his breath. She had gone from a trouser-clad, sopping wet mess to a beautiful young lady with all the grace and polish one sees on a ballroom floor in London.

  She wore a deep blue satin dress with the front drawn across her middle to gather in the back. The neckline exposed enough of her bosom to entice but was not at all improper. The sleeves were wide at her upper arms, but snug fitting from the elbows down.

  His eyes roamed to her hands, soft and graceful, joined together and resting against her stomach. Her hair had been brushed to a golden delight, then pulled back into a chignon with spirals of curls hugging her forehead and temples.

  She was magnificent.

  And every man who came to the club would see her. And talk to her. And flirt with her. Maybe he should have hired her as a maid after all. One who would remain in the background.

  Then he brought himself up short. Miss Pence was an employee. Only that. Plus, he knew nothing of her background and hadn’t yet decided if he even trusted her.

  “You look lovely, Miss Pence.” He barely got the words out, feeling like a youth faced with his first sweetheart.

  She offered a slight dip and blushed charmingly. “Thank you.”

  “I see that Margie was able to find something that suits you.”

  “Yes. She was very helpful. Thank you for that, too.”

  He waved her to the chair in front of his desk. “How can I help you?”

  “I wondered when I would actually begin my employment. I certainly need some practice with the game before I attempt to act as a dealer.”

  Driscoll tapped his pencil on the desk. “Yes, you do indeed. However, we do not allow ladies on the game floor.”

  The rule that had applied since they opened the door was men were permitted to bring their mistresses with them. A few women from the demimonde visited occasionally, but ladies were not allowed. The brothers felt it was not a proper place for ladies. Although, it was obvious to him that they had just employed a lady to not only appear on the gaming floor, but actually work as a dealer.

  The idea of Miss Pence wearing a mask had been a stroke of genius. Whatever issue she was dealing with, along with her reputation, would not be worsened by her job at The Rose Room.

  * * *

  “Then how will I learn what I need to know?” Amelia tried her best to calm her racing heart, which seemed to happen whenever she was around Driscoll.

  She smoothed out the gown Margie had purchased for her to distract herself. She’d been quite pleased when the maid had returned with the articles of clothing she had requested. The gown was lovely and fit perfectly. Thank heaven for ready-made clothes. The maid had even been clever enough to also purchase a brush, comb, toothbrush and tooth powder, along with a night rail and dressing gown. All items she’d not thought about in her race from the house.

  Amelia felt as though she’d been traveling in a whirlwind. She had gone through so much in the past couple of days it was a wonder she was able to think straight. Now she faced the challenge of employment. She’d never worked a day in her life, and if things had gone the way her mother and stepfather had planned, she would have had her come-out in London and married off to a gentleman who would take care of her for the rest of her life.

  Alas, now she was left in the care of despicable Randolph. Although she had never understood the animosity between him and his father, she now believed her stepfather was very much aware of the son’s nefarious ways. ‘Twas too bad he hadn’t made the necessary changes in his will so Randolph would not end up controlling her and her dowry, which she was quite certain no longer existed.

  But she’d never been the sort of person who wailed at life’s problems. Which was why she now found herself sitting in a gaming club about to take a job as a card dealer, thwarting Randolph’s intention to make her a man’s mistress.

  “I think the best way to make you comfortable with vingt-et-un is to play several hands. First as a player, and then as a dealer.”

  “That sounds like a perfect idea, but who will play with me?”

  Driscoll cleared his throat and ran his finger around the inside of his stiff collar, looking a bit uncomfortable as if she had said something inappropriate. “I will find a few employees to help you, but unfortunately the club opens in a short while, so I suggest you have something to eat, and we will work on your training tomorrow.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “What will I do for the rest of the night?” She’d already spent the day wandering the bedroom, with nothing to do and nothing to read. In desperation she had taken a nap. That little bit of sleep left her energized, so she really needed something to keep herself busy for the rest of the evening.

  “Are you good with numbers?” Driscoll asked.

  “Yes.” Maths had been her best subject growing up. She’d had an excellent governess who believed young ladies had a brain similar to men and could certainly learn maths and science.

  “Then perhaps you can help me. We are nearing the end of the month as well as the quarter, so I need to pull a lot of numbers from various ledgers and combine them into another ledger.”

  “I would love to do that.” Lord, anything except return to the bedroom and stare at the walls.

  He frowned. “It can be tedious.”

  She shook her head. “That’s fine. I’ve worked on my stepfather’s books, so I know how much. . .” She stopped, realizing what she’d said. Driscoll Rose, not being a stupid man picked up right away on what she was saying. She could see the light in his eyes. “Go on.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just that I know I can be a help to you.”

  He grinned and her heart did that double thump again. He pulled out a gold timepiece from the pocket of his waistcoat and checked the time. “Why don’t I escort you to the dining room and we’ll have some dinner? Then I can show you what you can do to help.”

  Still attempting to recover from her faux pas, she stood and shook out her skirts. “Yes, I would like that.”

  There was something about Driscoll Rose that loosened her tongue. He was so easy to talk to, and she had a horrid feeling if they spent much time together she would blurt out her disgrace. Until she could trust him not to turn her over to her stepbrother, she would watch her words carefully.

  As they made their way down the corridor from the office, Amelia asked, “Do all the staff eat in the dining room?”

  Driscoll placed his hand on her lower back to direct her through the doorway to the dining room. She immediately felt flushed, warmth emanating from where his hand rested on her body. He didn’t seem to make much of it, and she was sure he was merely being a gentleman. No need to make anything of it.

  “No. The maids, security guards and other employees eat in the kitchen in the basement. That is also where those who live here have their rooms.”

  Dante rose from his seat when they entered the room.

  She slipped into the seat Driscoll held out for her. “Then why am I not eating and sleeping downstairs, also?”

  Dante smirked across the table from where she was seated. “Despite what you want us to believe, Miss Pence, we are aware of your station in life. You are not of the maid and ‘employee’ ilk.”

  She raised her chin. This man was nothing like his brother. He seemed to be able to antagonize her every time he opened his mouth. “And how do you know that, Mr. Rose?”

  “Dante, if you please, since we are both Mr. Rose and I don’t want you to mix us up. However informal we are in the club, though, we do revert to ‘Mister’ and now ‘Miss’ on the game room floor.” He motioned
to the maid standing near the sideboard to serve.

  In answer to her question, he added, “’Tis quite obvious that everything about you tells us you are a lady, born and bred. The way you hold yourself, your gait, your manners, your way of speaking.”

  She thought about that while the maid began to serve them a fine dinner of baked whitefish in a wine sauce, slices of beef, roasted carrots and turnips, and boiled potatoes with pieces of leek.

  A man dressed in formal attire poured them wine. Although her time in London had never been spent at fancy ton events, there was no doubt that the Rose brothers had been also born and bred as gentlemen. This array of food would most likely be served at any ton dinner party.

  “Here’s to our new employee,” Dante said as he raised his glass.

  She glanced sideways at Driscoll who lifted his glass slightly. “Welcome to The Rose Room.”

  6

  Driscoll was still reeling from how Miss Pence had affected him when she’d walked into his office in that gown. After he made the offer to her for a position as a dealer, he’d sought out his brother and they both agreed that she was not from the working class. As a dealer, while seeming to be even more notorious than her working as a maid, she would retain her dignity while the mask would protect her reputation.

  As the meal continued and the three spoke of various innocuous subjects, he was beginning to regret his offer to have her help him with the books. The two of them alone together in the office for hours while they did the tedious work might be too much for him to handle.

  Her scent, her soft laugh at something Dante just said, and her very presence would be a distraction he did not need. On the other hand, his curiosity about the woman, where she came from, who she actually was, and why she had no home despite being of the upper crust, teased his brain, making him want to learn the answers.

  “Do you ride, Miss Pence?” Dante asked.

  “I do. But it has been a while.”

  She tilted her head slightly and directed her question to Dante. “Since Driscoll told me to address you as ‘Dante’ why do you continue to call me ‘Miss Pence’?”

  Driscoll smiled at her. “We prefer to keep things formal among our employees while on the game floor. I am referred to as Mr. Rose as is my brother. Since I am not on the game floor very much, there isn’t a great deal of confusion between us.”

  “Then you must call me Amelia when not working.” She put her fork down and studied him. “If I am to be an employee, I expect to be treated as the others.” She waved her hand around. “I am the only employee eating here, I am the only employee with a bedroom on this floor.”

  Driscoll looked over at Dante who took a sip of wine and shrugged. “Your call, big brother.”

  He did not want to relegate Amelia to the basement with the other employees. He attempted to convince himself it was merely because she was a lady, and not that he thought of her as someone special.

  He cleared his throat and looked over at her. “I believe for now we will leave the sleeping and eating arrangements as they are. We will continue to address you as Miss Pence while you are working on the floor.” He gestured to the footman to pour them all more wine.

  David Jenkins, the security guard the brothers depended on to keep patrons from fisticuffs when things didn’t go their way, entered the dining room. He gave a slight bow and turned to Dante. “I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but there is a problem with the Hazard table. When you are through with your meal, can you see to it?”

  Dante finished the dregs of his wine glass, wiped his mouth and stood. “I am finished.” He nodded at Driscoll and Amelia and left the room.

  “We generally have tea and dessert. Would you care for some?” Driscoll felt the strain of Dante’s absence immediately. He and Amelia were alone again. Which is what they would be for the rest of the night. He needed to put her from his mind. Perhaps he should not be treating her differently.

  She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her upraised hand. “I am too full for dessert, but I would love some tea.”

  The maid immediately left the room to fetch the tea. The silence was deafening. It annoyed him that Dante’s departure had put him on edge.

  During the dinner, he’d spent time studying Amelia’s hand to determine if there was an indication of a wedding ring that she might have removed. The thought that she might belong to some man depressed and angered him. And the thought that said man might have harmed or threatened her in some way, forcing her to flee into the wet, cold, dark night, had his blood pounding in his head.

  Then he chided himself. Amelia was an anomaly, someone who by speech, manners, and demeanor, clearly came from the upper class, but had the nerve and audacity to wear trousers, leave her home in the rain, climb a tree, and enter an unknown building through the window in the middle of the night. The two scenarios did not gel.

  The tea arrived and every subject Driscoll thought to discuss would have sounded like he was questioning her. He didn’t realize until now how very difficult it was to have a conversation with someone who was hiding their identity.

  Finally, Amelia saved him by asking her own questions. She stirred a bit of sugar into her tea, avoiding his eyes. “You said the Earl of Huntington is your brother. How is it you ended up owning a gambling house?”

  Driscoll leaned back in his chair, happy to have an easy question to answer. “Dante and I, being second and third sons had no expectations of inheriting anything. Hunt—which is what everyone calls the earl—was generous enough to settle a yearly allowance on both of us. However, after a year or so of wasting our time and money, we came up with the idea of buying this club.”

  “So, it had already been a gaming club when you bought it?”

  Driscoll nodded. “Yes. It hadn’t been very successful and was subject to numerous raids. Since Hunt has a standing in both the community and the House of Lords, we were pretty sure we could turn the club into a place where the elite in London could go for some gambling fun and not be harassed by the police.”

  “Since gambling is illegal,” Miss Pence said with a slight smirk.

  “Hmm. Technically,” he smiled. “We approached Hunt about advancing us the money to buy the club outright. The previous owners were anxious to sell, so we got a good deal. We completely renovated the building, added sleeping quarters and a kitchen in the basement and opened for business.”

  “And have been successful since then.”

  “Yes. If Scotland Yard plans a raid, which they must do on occasion to avoid too much animosity with those who care about such things, we generally know at least a half hour in advance, which gives us time to close down the gaming part of the room and make it appear as any other gentlemen’s club.”

  Amelia blew on her tea and smiled at him. “Very clever.”

  Driscoll’s jaw dropped at the glorious way her smile lit up her face. His muscles tensed and his body responded by his blood taking a joyful race to his cock. He knew he was in serious trouble.

  * * *

  The little bit of wine she’d had at dinner along with the wonderful food left Amelia more relaxed than she’d been in a long time. Living with her stepbrother had been fraught with anxiety. Even before Randolph had come to her with his ridiculous demand that she meekly surrender to Lyon’s lecherous plans, she’d put up with numerous parties in the house. She would lock herself in her room, terrified someone would attempt to break in.

  She’d not felt relaxed or even safe since she left her home in the country. It didn’t speak well of her stepbrother that she found security in a gambling club in the middle of London with two men she’d only just met.

  “Does your brother, the earl, ever visit the club?”

  “Occasionally. Right now, his wife is expecting their first child so he tends to stick close to home.”

  “Oh, how lovely. They must be very happy.” She sighed, thinking about being happily married with her own home and a caring husband. A child would make
her life perfect. Right now, it didn’t appear that would ever be her life. She had to save money and move as far as possible from London, perhaps even England.

  Driscoll covered her hand with his. “What’s wrong, Amelia? Won’t you tell me? Perhaps I can help.”

  She was so tempted to turn to this kind man and tell him everything. But she still did not trust him. He might be aghast at her running from the man who was her guardian. Having a guardian at her age was preposterous, but with Randolph holding whatever money his father left, she really had no choice.

  “Nothing.” She offered him a smile and pulled her hand out from under his. It was best to fight the attraction she felt for Driscoll. She needed to smother the feelings and strange sensations her body experienced when he was near, and grossly stupid to become too attached to this man. Escape was her only option. “Shall we begin work on the books?”

  Driscoll looked a bit disappointed that she refused to confide in him, but she couldn’t concern herself with that. No longer would she depend on others. Her stepfather had let her down by trusting Randolph, and her stepbrother had done even worse. From now on Amelia would take care of herself.

  They walked from the dining room to the office, neither one speaking. The sound of the gaming floor being prepared for the night reached their ears as they walked. Tables readied, furniture polished, carpets being swept. She actually found it exciting. She’d never been a part of something like this. Her life in the country had been quiet.

  And safe, she reminded herself.

  They had been at the work for hours on the books and Amelia was certain her eyes were crossed from staring at numbers. They were dry and burning. She rubbed them, but it didn’t help. She looked over at Driscoll who still methodically copied numbers from one book to another, looking back and forth. “How do you do this for hours?”