A Little Bit Scandalous Page 0,3

Caroline to play in the first place,” Millie said.

“Precisely. I was perfectly content with embroidery before he taught me the game.”

Millie shook her head. “You are terrible at embroidery, my dear.”

Caroline sighed dramatically. “Quite true. It is why I must play cards.”

And with that, she was off, into the hired hack with the driver they’d procured for her with Boomer, Mildred’s special servant at her side. He never said much, but Caroline could tell that, despite the man’s oppressive appearance, he was a gentle man.

The ride to Rodale’s seemed to take forever, as if the carriage were traveling through mud, but it hadn’t rained in two days and Caroline knew the streets were clear. Her nerves were rattled, twisting her dinner into knots. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The game was second nature, but so far, she had only played the people she herself had taught. It wasn’t a legitimate test of her skill. But playing with others, with men who knew the game, that would be the right measure. That could prove she didn’t have to rely on others forever, that she could do something on her own. And hopefully, she’d actually win some money, perhaps even enough to restore her family’s townhome so that she might live on her own, support herself.

The carriage pulled to a stop and she stepped down, the weight of the unfamiliar boots felt heavy and cumbersome on her feet. But she stepped forward, climbed the stairs, and walked into Rodale’s, the most luxurious gaming hell in all of London.

The entrance for servants and commoners was on the side of the building, near the alleyway, and prevented her from seeing the main gaming area where the gentlemen would play. Instead, she found herself in a room the size of a dining hall. It hosted six tables, and she immediately found one playing the game she sought, Vingt-et-un, the French card game where players sought to beat the dealer to reach twenty-one.

Caroline took a few steadying breaths, reminded herself who she was tonight, then approached one of the tables. It was still relatively early in the evening for gaming so there were three empty seats remaining. She took one and placed her coin on the table to buy into the game.

The other men eyed her, summing her up, and she held her breath, waiting for one of them to call her bluff and declare her a woman, but they merely nodded and she was dealt her cards. Sweat itched her palms, but she wouldn’t wipe them, refusing to show these men her fear. She was a man, at least for the time being, and men wouldn’t be afraid of something so simple as a card game.

She swallowed, placed her first bet, and looked at her cards. An eight and a seven. She scratched at the table, asking for another card. A five, bringing her total to twenty. Pretty darn perfect for her first hand. The dealer ended up with eighteen, so he had to pay her and one other player. Caroline relaxed a measure and put her bet out for the next hand.

The door opened and a man walked toward the table. He was a hulking man, standing way too tall and too broad. He spoke to a few people on his way over, then lowered himself into the chair next to her. He looked over and leaned back a little, surprise etched in his grizzled features.

Caroline’s heart stopped beating and she quickly averted her glance.

“You’re new,” the man said in a gruff voice.

She cleared her throat and dared another glance at him. “Grey,” she said, lowering her voice.

The man grunted. “Well then, Grey, I’m Erickson.” He eyed her. “You any good?”

“Decent enough.”

“Let us play then.”

Caroline didn’t know how long this would last, but for tonight, she’d infiltrated the man’s world, and she intended to continue to do so for as long as possible.

…

TWO MONTHS LATER

Roe looked at the letter in his hand one more time before tossing it onto his desk. He swore and exhaled sharply. It was time to pay a visit to his brother, Justin, to see if Roe could finally get into the back room at Rodale’s.

As he climbed into his rig, Roe considered the letter that had come by post this morning. Mr. B.D. Cabot still refused to entertain an audience with him. It was a slap in the face, truly, because what good was being a damned duke if it didn’t get you an audience