Page 18 of How to Best a Marquess

“Oh?”

“You have a tell.”

“A tell?”

“Your lips twitch. Right here.” He stepped close and grazed a spot by her mouth with his finger. She tensed. Her lips tingled from the light touch. She wanted him to touch her mouth, and even more ridiculous, she wanted to lick his finger.

Instead, she took a breath and glared at him. “No one has ever mentioned a twitch before.”

“Perhaps they weren’t looking at your lips as closely as I have.”

Now he was taunting her. Teasing her in the maddening way only he could. “I won’t apologize for slipping away,” she said.

“I didn’t expect it.”

“Hmm.”

“Why do you need a bed in the club?”

Her mind spun at his change in topic. He was smooth, she’d give him that much. “I don’t. Remember, Alice needs it for her sick—”

He shot her a disbelieving look. “You don’t expect me to believe that story, do you? Tell me why you need a bed.”

How much to tell? She instinctively knew she could not fool him with another lie. She could be truthful, but not confess everything. “Fine,” she said. “There is a separate room adjacent to the women’s gambling room where I intend to keep the bed. Women may get tired and need to rest in the ladies’ gambling room.”

“Rest? I thought the intended goal is for them to empty their reticules at the tables.”

“Ladies have different needs from men. They seek excitement at the tables, but they also like to talk and…maybe rest. From my observation, men do not share this preference.”

A look of smug male acknowledgment crossed his features. “By briefly rest, do you mean entertain a lover?”

Of course he would reach such a conclusion. He was a man, after all. She thought of her options, then decided it couldn’t hurt for him to believe this. It might deter further questions.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I will not protest if a lady chooses to rest alone or with another.”

To her surprise, a flash of anger crossed his face. “Oh? And what would your brother say? Is he aware of his sister’s plans to improve the profitability of the club by turning it into a brothel?”

He would think the worst. Her nervousness at Hugh’s inquiries suddenly veered into anger. “Why do you keep bringing up my brother? It is becoming tiresome.”

“You need reminding.”

“If you must know, I do not intend to turn it into a house of ill repute. No money shall exchange hands. Only if a lady is fatigued or drinks a bit too much wine, then she shall make use of the bed. The women’s room will be for gambling only.”

He studied her, his eyes traveling over her face as if he could reach inside her head and read her thoughts. “Then I need not fear of your plans,” he said.

His arrogant tone proclaimed that her efforts could never compete with his, and that he would undoubtedly be the victor. She glared. “You should. I still intend to win the club.”

His eyebrow rose. “You do not yet know all of my plans.”

“I’m still confident that I’ll win.”

He cocked his head to the side and continued to watch her in an intense way that made heat run down her spine. “I wish I had been there to see it.”

She blinked. He had a maddening way of continuing to change the topic. “See what?”

“See you grow into the woman you are today. You were always sweet and lovely, especially your enchanting freckles.”

Enchanting freckles? She made a mental note to vigorously rub more of the expensive depilatory she’d purchased on the bridge of her nose tonight.