He drew back the thick heavy curtains, inhaled Eve’s rose scent as she walked by, and followed her onto the balcony. She went to the very edge, wrapping her hands around the carved railing. Even there, though, the shadows kept her hidden from those on the floor below. No one would ever know she’d visited. Although he suspected her phantom scent would haunt the hallways through which they’d walked. It was a mistake to bring her here, to risk having a memory of her within his club. When he let her go, he wanted nothing of her to linger. He wanted no recollections outside the bed.
Yet here he was enjoying the vision of her profile, while she studied everything spread out before her like a feast of sin. He could hear the cards being shuffled, the dice being thrown, the wheels being turned. He could hear the exclamations of joy and the groans of despair. He didn’t have to look onto the gaming floor to know what he would see.
“There’s so much activity. It’s very muchalive, isn’t it?”
He didn’t have to ask her to explain. He knew too well what she meant. It was a pulsing room of activity. Always something was happening. A card turned, a die tumbling to a stop, a ball dropping into a slot.
“What appealed to you about this place?”
Had he ever known a woman who asked so many questions? Had he ever known another woman who made him want to answer? Inquiries irritated him. They were bothersome, intrusive. Yet when she questioned, a small kernel of something in his soul snapped to attention and wondered, foolishly, ridiculously, if she cared.
“The money I could rake in.”
She peered over at him, gave him what he suspected she thought was a knowing smile. “You could also lose it.”
“The house always wins in the end, Eve. It wouldn’t be unusual for a million pounds to exchange hands tonight, and most of it will go in the Rakehell’s coffers.”
She spun around, her eyes wide. “You’re joshing.”
He gave a small shake of his head.
“That’s obscene.”
“There are worse obscenities.”
She scrutinized him, and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “Such as,” she finally asked.
Using children for labor. Sending them down into the mines, in the dark, alone—except for the rats, and the roaches, and other multilegged creatures that bite—expecting them to sit still, open and close a door as needed for the horses and wagons. Sending them deeper into the pits, crawling into tiny spaces where they barely fit, having the dirt cave in on them until they thought they’d suffocate.
But he couldn’t tell her any of that. It wasn’t meant to be brought up to the surface. It needed to remain buried as deeply as the coal.
“Wortham for one,” he said flatly. Perhaps the other lords who had been there that night as well. He was ready to move on. “I think we’re done here.”
She had thought he would escort her out to the carriage. Instead, they trudged up another flight of stairs.
She had to admit that Geoffrey was an obscenity, at least the manner in which he’d treated her. However, she didn’t think for a single moment that Rafe had been considering Geoffrey while she’d waited for his answer. His facial features had not moved at all, but within his icy blue eyes she’d seen something—only a flicker—yet it was deep, powerful, and haunting. Something from his past perhaps, an incident, a person, a place that had been part of the process that had forged him into the man he was.
For a moment she’d thought he was going to share it. She didn’t know if she wanted him to. She had a keen desire to understand him, but she was beginning to think it would come at a high price—that his nightmares might become hers.
At the top of the stairs, in the middle of the hallway, he opened a heavy mahogany door. She stepped through into a large living area, not quite as sparsely furnished as his office but he obviously cared nothing at all for knickknacks. She could see hallways branching off on either side of it and assumed they led to other rooms, bedchambers perhaps.
“My living quarters.”
“Why do you have these when you are in possession of a lovely residence?” she asked as she wandered over to the large bare windows. She looked out on the street below. The fog was rolling in, giving an ominous feel to everything around which it swirled.
“I prefer here. The residence ... I acquired it because it was within my power to do so.”
She peered over at him. “This is where you’ll reside once the residence is mine.”
“In all likelihood, yes. Although perhaps I’ll purchase another before that happens.” He leaned against the edge of the window.
“You don’t fancy draperies.”
“Why put glass in a wall and then block the view you’ve obtained?”
She turned her attention back to the street. She could see gentlemen coming and going. “No one leaving has quite as lively a step as those arriving.”
“When they first get here, they think Lady Luck sits on their shoulder.”
