A Lady’s Trust

by Callie Hutton

  He sat back, putting at least some distance between them. “Before we begin, I feel as though I should apologize for last night. I make it a point to not dally with my employees. Ever. And I should not have kissed you last night. I can assure you it will not happen again.”

  Luckily, she did not mention that last night was not the first time he kissed her. Instead, she smiled and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “You are an honorable man, Mr. Rose. I can assure you I do not feel the need for an apology. If we were to be honest, I was as much involved in our encounter as you were.”

  Whatever did that mean? That she approved of what he’d done? He decided to try once more. He stood and walked around the desk. He rested his hip on the edge of the desk in front of her, and took her hand, linking their fingers together. “Can you please tell me what or who you are running from? There is no point in denying it because it’s clear you are a lady, raised to have the sort of life most ladies of Quality have. Yet here you are working in a gaming club.”

  She gave a soft sigh. “I do not think you a stupid man. Of course, I realize you know there is something I am keeping from you, but for now I am not comfortable discussing it. Can you just accept that I am an employee of The Rose Room, and just want to do the best job I can?”

  No, he did not want to accept that for several reasons, but she was leaving him no choice. He wanted her nearby. He wanted to protect her from whatever it was she was dealing with. He wanted to court her in a proper, acceptable manner. Above board, in public, not hidden in the shadows of the club. He might even want to take her to various ton events. Hold her in his arms as they danced, stroll in a darkened garden with her, or one of the paths at the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. All the things he’d eschewed for the last several years.

  He looked down at their joined hands. As much as he hated having no control, and with everything inside of him chaffing at her request, if he wanted her, he would have to proceed on her terms. He glanced up at her bright blue eyes and smiled. “Let’s get to work, then.”

  11

  Amelia glanced at the clock once again. Only three minutes had passed since the last time she checked. It was nearing nine o’clock, the time she would go down to the game floor and begin working.

  She paced as she waited for Driscoll to arrive. He wanted to bring her down, introduce her to those employees she had not yet met, and then have her deal a couple of hands before they officially opened the doors at nine-thirty.

  A quick glimpse at the mirror over the dressing table caused her to pause and assess herself. She was dressed in a dark red satin gown, snug over her belly and pulled into the back into a slight bustle. Black lace covered the center of the bodice all the way to the hem. The neckline was proper enough, and the slightly puffed short sleeves were trimmed with the same black lace.

  The frock had recently been made by the dressmaker who had arrived at her room the week before to measure her. Driscoll had insisted that the new dresses she’d bought on her shopping trip with him would not do for her to wear while working.

  He pointed out that all the men wore formal evening attire, and she should as well. This gown was stunning, nothing like she’d ever owned. She would have felt more properly dressed had she been able to wear long gloves, but since she needed to use her hands to deal cards, she’d been given elbow length black lace gloves with the fingertips open.

  Driscoll had sent Margie up to help her dress and do her hair. She was still embarrassed over the special treatment she was receiving, but he rightly pointed out that as the only female employee on the game room floor, she was setting a precedent.

  Margie had parted her hair in the center, then softly pulled the mass of curls back, fixing it into a loose, but well anchored chignon at the crown, with a wisp of loose curls dangling from her temples.

  She wore no jewelry, since she owned none, except the lovely strand of pearls her stepfather had given her when she turned eighteen. They’d been confiscated by Randolph when she arrived in London and most likely sold by now.

  A slight knock on the door interrupted her musings. Taking a deep breath, she walked across the room and opened the door. Driscoll stood on the other side offering an encouraging smile. Since he was to spend time on the game room floor tonight, he was also dressed in formal evening attire.

  He looked stunning. A curl from his dark hair fell on his forehead, giving him a rakish look. A well-cut black formal suit fit him perfectly, outlining his masculine form. He wore a silver and white waistcoat, with a black silk ascot tied smartly at his throat.

  Her mouth dried up and her breathing hitched.

  “You look beautiful, Amelia.” He bent over her hand as if they were leaving for a social event. Suddenly she felt a stab of self-pity. She was raised to have a gentleman caller escorting her to balls, musicales, dinners and such. Not to escort her to a gaming club floor to work as a dealer.

  She was mortified to feel tears gathering in her eyes.

  Driscoll took her hand in his. “What is wrong, Amelia? Are you still nervous?”

  His concern only made her feel worse. Before she knew it, tears streamed down her face and she turned from Driscoll trying her best to gain control.

  “Amelia?” His soft voice broke through her sadness.

  She turned back, swallowing several times, and placed a bright smile on her face. “I’m fine. Probably just nerves.” Hopefully her shaky voice would convince him.

  Driscoll studied her, the doubt in her remarks apparent on his face. But he did not push her, nor offer any additional kind words which would have sent her back to crying again. Instead, he withdrew a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, crumpling the handkerchief into a ball so she could wash it later. Raising her chin, she said, “I am ready.”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead nodded and waved her toward the door.

  They walked side-by-side down the corridor to the stairs leading to the gaming floor.

  The room was bustling. A man in the corner was setting up liquor bottles on a long table in front of him. He stacked clean glasses alongside the bottles. Other employees were cleaning, dusting and preparing the gaming tables. Driscoll took the time to introduce her to the employees she did not yet know.

  “I think it might relax you a bit to play a couple of hands before we open the doors.”

  She nodded and a thought slammed into her that almost had her panicking. “My mask!”

  “Ah, yes. I forgot. Wait here for me and I will fetch it from the office.”

  Amelia picked up the two decks of cards with shaky hands. She started to shuffle them when a man’s voice called out, “Stop.”

  She froze and looked over at the man who had just been introduced to her as Mr. Maxwell Granger, who ran the hazard table. He moved from around the table and approached her.

  “What?”

  “It’s best if you shuffle the cards in front of the players. They like to see that nothing untoward is going on.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  “No need to apologize, young lady. I know this is all new to you.” He leaned in and winked at her. “Remember, we were all new at one time.”

  She smiled back, the corner of her eye-catching Driscoll heading toward her, frowning at Mr. Granger.

  “Best get that table set up, Granger.” Driscoll’s voice was anything but warm and friendly. Did he not like the man?

  Mr. Granger merely offered Driscoll a smirk which Amelia did not understand at all. But she was distracted by the mask in Driscoll’s hand. It was a beautiful black satin mask, the edges lined with black feathers. Small shiny stones were scattered throughout the piece.

  Amelia let out a sigh of relief. The mask would cover almost half her face. All that would be visible was her mouth and chin. Since almost no one in London knew her, the only person she was concerned about recognizing her was Mr. Lyons, since she knew he was s
till a member in good standing at the club.

  Even he, however, had not seen her in a clear light, so all he would remember of her was her hair color and height.

  She slipped the mask on and turned to Driscoll. “Do I look mysterious enough?”

  He grinned and her heart took a leap. “Yes, my dear. Very mysterious.” He leaned in closer. “And lovely. It will be no burden to stand near your table tonight.”

  Thankfully the mask hid most of the blush that rose to her face.

  “Mr. Granger told me not to shuffle the cards until the players are seated.”

  “Yes. He is correct. I should have told you that. It makes the players feel like everything is above board if they can see that. Which, by the way, is the rule here. We don’t cheat in any way, and we do not permit players to cheat either. If someone is caught cheating, he is banned from the club.”

  Amelia nodded, still mesmerized at how Driscoll looked in his formal clothes. Would he try to kiss her again tonight? A fluttering started in her stomach when she thought about it.

  Now with him standing so close and the fragrance of his bath soap drifting toward her, she had the urge to throw herself into his arms and inhale his scent, feel his strong arms around her, taste his lips again.

  Driscoll waved over two other staff members whose duties were done. Mr. Donald Johnson and Mr. Arthur Richards had been introduced to her earlier and both men seemed to be friendly enough. Mr. Johnson was in security and Mr. Richards was a ‘runner’. He kept the guests happy by seeing that they had drinks and food if they desired and took care of submitting IOUs to the banker.

  Mr. John Melrose ran the bank. He accepted the winnings from the tables, recounted the money turned in by each dealer, recorded it against each employee, then placed it into a safe after giving Driscoll the tally for the evening.

  From what Amelia saw, The Rose Room was a very well-run, honest establishment. The brothers had done quite well for themselves.

  The three men sat in front of her, and with a nod from Driscoll, she shuffled the cards and began to deal.

  Despite her nervousness, she did quite well and did not fumble at all during the half hour they played. When the last hand finished, Driscoll leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “You are going to be quite a hit, Miss Pence.”

  Mr. Richards grinned. “I agree. Beautiful, smart, and competent.” He looked at Driscoll. “You brothers have all the luck.”

  It wasn’t Mr. Richards’ words that had her blushing. It was the look Driscoll cast in her direction. Hunger, desire, and pride.

  “Doors open,” someone called from the front of the room. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Richards left her table with encouraging words as several men entered the room.

  “I will be against the wall over there,” Driscoll said as he stood. “If you need anything, anything at all, just nod in my direction.”

  Amelia touched her mask to make sure it was in place and took a deep breath. For reassurance, she looked over at Driscoll who smiled and winked at her.

  In less than five minutes she had a full table. Obviously, the only woman in the room was a draw. She started out shaky, but soon got into the game and after a while was actually enjoying herself.

  “Why would a beautiful woman like you work in a gaming club?” The man who had occupied her table for over an hour leered at her. He’d been commenting since he’d sat down and had refused to give up his seat to the many requests from the men waiting for a place behind the players.

  He’d also had the runner bring him drinks at a steady pace, and his playing had gotten sloppy as he continued to imbibe.

  She didn’t stop her dealing but shrugged. “It’s a job.”

  “I could think of another job I could offer you that wouldn’t require you being on your feet all night.” Another player chimed in, nudging the man who asked the question.

  “That’s right. Better to be on your back, eh?”

  “Gentlemen, I believe it’s time to surrender your seats to other players.” Driscoll had appeared out of nowhere, his hands on the shoulders of the two men who had been speaking with her.

  The first man looked over his shoulder at Driscoll. “What? We’re just having a little fun with the chit.”

  Driscoll placed his hands on the elbows of the two men and moved them up. “Time to go lads.”

  The second man tried to wiggle his elbow from Driscoll’s grip. “Now wait a minute. I want to stay here.”

  Driscoll nodded in the direction of the hazard table and a man walked briskly to Amelia’s table. She remembered him from the introductions. His name was Mr. David Sanders, one of the security guards.

  “Let’s go gentlemen.” Mr. Sanders was a bit more forceful, and the two men stood, one of them stumbling as they were escorted from her table.

  Amelia took a deep breath as a man and woman slid into their seats.

  “Are you all right?” Driscoll moved behind her table and leaned close to her ear.

  “Yes. I am fine.”

  He touched her arm. “I can have another staff member take over the table and give you a break whenever you need one.”

  She really loved his concern but didn’t want to appear unable to work an entire shift. “Maybe later.”

  Driscoll studied her for a minute, then nodded and stepped away.

  By the time another hour passed, Amelia’s head was pounding, and her feet hurt like the devil. She’d avoided several requests to remove her mask and more than one suggestion that she consider another line of work. One on her back.

  Driscoll never strayed far from her table which concerned her since she knew he generally spent most of the time the club was open upstairs working on his ledgers.

  Eventually, about one thirty in the morning, Driscoll approached her with another man she’d been introduced to as Mr. Jason Fletcher. “Miss Pence, Mr. Fletcher will replace you for the rest of the night.”

  She shook her head, even though her headache had gotten worse. “No. I’m fine.”

  Driscoll ignored her and took her elbow to walk her away while Mr. Fletcher stepped in and began dealing, with grumbling from the men at the table at the loss of the female dealer.

  “You’re exhausted,” he said as he marched her across the room and up the stairs.

  “You don’t understand, I have to do this. I need a job.” She tried to pull her elbow away, but his grip was much stronger than she would have expected.

  “No one is firing you, so calm down.” He handed her another handkerchief when the tears began to fall again, gathering under her mask.

  Amelia was so disappointed in herself, and thought she was much stronger than this. True, she had never held a job in her life, but she was certainly not a weak person.

  They entered the dining room and Driscoll pulled out a chair for her. He sat alongside her and took her hand in his. “I assume you have never worked before, am I correct?”

  Amelia sniffed and nodded.

  “It will take some getting used to. Standing on your feet, constantly dealing cards, and thinking about what you are doing. It’s tiring, but especially for someone who is not used to working.”

  Driscoll reached out and removed her mask, laying it on the table. Amelia took a deep breath, not realizing how constricting the mask had been.

  The look in his eyes as he studied her would probably have frightened her if she weren’t so blasted tired.

  His fingers ran down her cheek with a very light touch. “I’m also not happy with the comments and suggestions tossed your way tonight.” He stood and walked to the sideboard, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “This is not the place or the job for a lady.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Please don’t fire me. I know I can do this. I just need to get used to it all.”

  He rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “I am not firing you, Amelia. That is the last thing on my mind.” He reached out and took her hand. “Come, I will escort you to your bedroom and we will talk tomorrow.”r />
  She took his hand and stood but didn’t move. “I know you wasted your time tonight watching me, and your work has piled up. At least let me help you with that. It would make me feel better.”

  Driscoll cupped her face in his large hands, grazing softly over her cheeks with his thumbs. “Watching you is never a waste of time.” Slowly he bent his head and kissed her. Lightly at first, then when she moved closer and leaned into him, her breasts crushed against his hard chest, he wrapped her in his warm, strong arms, and took the kiss deeper.

  If only she could be sure he wouldn’t turn her over to her stepbrother, she would tell him everything. Maybe this attraction between them would turn into something more. But she couldn’t take the chance just yet. Men were still the ones in charge. They made all the decisions, and since Driscoll was a man of honor, he might very well think returning her to Randolph was the noble thing to do.

  In other words, she was yet unable to trust him.

  12

  Driscoll tapped his pen on the desk and stared at the ridiculous painting of two love birds that Dante had received from one of his paramours and insisted on hanging on their office wall. Not that it mattered because Driscoll’s eyes didn’t really see it since his thoughts were miles from where he sat.

  He was getting into trouble.

  His feelings for the mysterious lady only a few doors down from his office were becoming complicated. Yes, he’d felt lust for her from the time she climbed to her feet after falling through the window. The rain-soaked shirt and trousers she wore highlighted every single curve the woman possessed. A man would have had to be dead not to react to that.

  But now other feelings had given rise without him even aware of whence they arrived. Sneaking up on him, they did.

  Protectiveness, caring, respect, curiosity, but most of all a desire to solve whatever issue it was with which Amelia was dealing. To be the knight in shining armor to her lady in distress.