Page 74 of How to Tempt an Earl

She wasn’t certain what he expected from her. Did he think she’d change her opinions on the evils of gambling from one visit on his arm? She’d spent the past years hating everything about it. The nights that her father came home drunk and depressed after losing more and more money at the tables was not something Grace could easily forget.

But a promise was a promise.

“Tonight,” he said.

She hesitated for a brief moment, a strange excitement tingling in her stomach, before nodding. “Tonight.”

…

The evening came quickly.

Her maid, Rose, had arrived and she’d helped Grace dress in a sapphire gown and had styled her hair in a chignon with loose curls by her cheeks. Now, clutching her skirts, Grace made her way down the stairs where Ian waited at the bottom for her.

Ian’s hot gaze raked her form and rested on her face. “You are a vision.” He kissed her hand, and her skin prickled pleasurably beneath her satin glove. “Are you ready?”

A questioning look flashed in his eyes, and she realized he was nervous. Ian Swift nervous?

She hated gambling. He knew it, but he needn’t feel nervous. Her motives for accompanying him tonight were twofold. Yes, she’d made him a promise, but even more compelling was the chance to see where he’d spent the past decade of his life, through his eyes.

It was a tantalizing opportunity she could not pass up.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”

She placed her hand on his sleeve and could feel the tense muscles in his arm. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, to somehow reassure him.

How odd. When had things turned around so that it was now she who felt the need to offer comfort?

They stepped outside where his carriage waited. A large moon hung low like a Roman coin, and the black carriage gleamed beneath the luminous light. She settled across from him and her skirts brushed his legs. He reached for something on the padded bench and held out a lovely peacock feathered mask. “For you.”

She took the mask and ran her fingers through the exotic blue-and-white feathers. “Will people ask about my identity if I am seen with you?”

“No. They know better. Secrecy is understood and prized at the Raven Club.”

Secrecy. She was married to the most private man in all of London. An earl who owned a notorious gambling club. Would she ever get used to it?

Could she?

A short carriage ride later, they arrived at their destination. She glanced out the carriage window at the tall wooden doors flanked by torches. A large R was carved in the wood. She’d never noticed it before, and she wondered what else she would see this time. She’d been barely able to control her nervousness on her first visit here, and she’d been furious on her second. She hadn’t bothered to study her surroundings in detail; she’d simply wanted to conduct her business and leave as fast as she could.

Ian waved away the driver, lowered the step himself, and held his hand out for her. “I’m honored to have you here.”

He was asking her to trust him, to enter his domain where he ruled with an iron fist and others fell beneath the glitter and glory of the casino floor. As soon as she entered, she too would be under his command.

Heart pounding, she placed her small hand in his much larger one. Just like the first time, she entered masked. But this time was different—this time she was on Ian’s arm.

It was a busy night and every table on the floor was filled with gamblers hoping to win at a game of chance. Grace’s senses were soon full of the sights and sounds of the club as her fingers tightened on Ian’s arm. The sound of the spinning roulette wheel, the crack of the dice as they landed on the green baize, the excited shouts of the winners, the call of the croupiers, and the scent of ladies’ perfume comingled with the smell of cigar smoke all served to surround her in a kaleidoscope of color, scent, and noise.

Two masked women sat at a table along with three men. One of the women wore a bright blue satin mask, but Grace recognized the auburn hair and the distinctive birthmark on her right arm.

“That’s Lady Bellow,” she whispered.

“It is, but she is not called by that name here.”

“I won’t acknowledge her, but I would never suspect that she’d come to the Raven Club. She is a respectable Society hostess.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my years here it is that those with the heaviest duties need the most daring escape.”

“If you say so.”