Page 14 of How to Best a Marquess

“Why did you never marry?”

Her gaze snapped to his. This was not a topic of conversation she desired to engage in with him. It was definitely not a question a gentleman would ask a lady. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Alice stiffen but remain silent. Ellie boldly met his intense stare with her own. “Why didn’t you?”

“I prefer bachelorhood.”

“I prefer my unmarried life as well.”

“Liar. All women seek a husband.”

Her fingers clenched her skirts. Damn him. He had no right to inquire why she’d never married, not after their past. She raised her chin a notch. “Perhaps you have met the exceptional female.”

His eyes traveled over her face, then onto her mouth. He hesitated, then met her gaze, but not before causing her to shift in her seat. Leaning close so that her maid would not hear, he whispered, “Perhaps, but I have to admit that I’ve always found exceptions fascinating.”

A knot rose in her throat. How was she to respond to that? He had a maddening knack for taking her off guard and gaining the upper hand. It didn’t help that he was looking at her like she was a rarity that he did indeed find fascinating. Nor did it help her pounding pulse that she was strangely flattered by his interest.

She glanced at Alice, but thankfully, the woman had not heard his last words.

She was saved from answering when he glanced out the window. “We have arrived.”

Thank my lucky stars!

She looked out the window to see Grafton House at 164 New Bond Street, a well-known London linen draper. Colorful fabrics and trimmings were artfully displayed in the bay window to entice customers to enter.

Hugh hopped out of the carriage and waved away the driver to lower the step himself. This time, Ellie was careful not to touch him as she descended. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it.

The bells above the shop’s doors tinkled as they stepped inside. Bolts of fabric in what seemed like every color of the rainbow crammed the shelves—linens, muslins, broadcloth, violets, and crepes. The shop was a kaleidoscope of color and texture. A handful of women perused the wares as workers aided them with their selections.

Alice waited at the front of the shop as Ellie flitted through the rows of shelves displaying household linens of sheets, table linens, curtains, and bath cloths. She removed her gloves and tucked them into her reticule so that she could touch and feel the weight and texture of each fabric. Hugh trailed close, never far behind her.

She recalled his words in the carriage. This wouldn’t do. She had to stop thinking of Hugh Vere in a sexual fashion. She couldn’t allow him to distract her. She’d worked hard for her chance to prove her worth to her brother and sister-in-law. Financial independence and the chance to run the Raven were much more meaningful than an infuriating marquess.

She brought her mind back to her task at hand. The women’s gambling room required many items, and she’d best get started. She reached for a bolt of red velvet perfect for lush curtains. She could envision the decor as a splendid contrast to the green baize of the tables.

“I would avoid that color,” Hugh said.

She scowled at him over her shoulder. “Why? It would make for a dramatic effect for curtains in my women’s gambling room.”

“No. It would resemble a house of ill repute.”

She blinked. The only reason he’d know that is if he’d visited one of the bordellos in London himself.

“May I suggest a subtler color.” He reached for a bolt of light blue silk. “Now this resembles a lovely sky. Feel the texture.”

The silk swept across her bare fingers like a wisp of a cloud—soft and delicate. It tickled her senses and heightened her awareness of both the fabric and the man.

His fingers brushed hers as he took the fabric from her. “The trick is to let the gamblers feel like they are outside, without ever having to leave.”

She’d heard Ian say the same thing. Keep the patrons inside as long as possible. The more time in the club, the more money they will wager.

Maybe Hugh had what it took to run the Raven Club.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Under his steady scrutiny, she struggled to think. “The casino floor lacks windows for a reason. If the gamblers cannot look outside, then they often forget the time, how long they have been at the tables, and will remain to place bets.”

“A common trick among all gambling halls.”

Her thoughts came easier now. “Blue silk curtains will let them think time has not passed. I concur with your suggestion.”