Page 107 of One Night with an Earl

Did she love him?

He was miserable, and the harder he tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted. He loved her, truly loved her, and that was the most fearful emotion of all. For a man who’d sworn duty was more important than the foolish notion of love, it was frightening. A man who’d never viewed marriage as anything more than a required nuisance and a businesslike affair, Ana had turned his world upside down and the thought of losing her was unbearable.

He needed to see her, to explain, to apologize.

“Even though she was disguised as a companion, she is the daughter of Lord Woodbridge. A true lady,” the dowager said.

A lady. He understood the implication. Was his grandmother encouraging a match between them after all that had occurred?

She read his mind as she rose and went to the door. “You must make your own decision, my boy, but do not waste precious time drinking whisky. Need I remind you that the lady has a knack for disappearing?”

A knock at the study door rudely interrupted Oliver’s response.

“Ah, it must be the tea,” his grandmother said as she opened the door to find the Duke of Warwick standing in the doorway. “Impeccable timing, Your Grace. I was just leaving. I hope you enjoy tea because my grandson needs it,” she said on her way out.

“Good day, my lady.” Warwick’s lips twisted in humor as he waved, then shut the door. He then turned to eye Oliver. “You look like dung.”

Oliver cringed but knew it was true. His grandmother had already pointed out his appearance, although she’d phrased it a bit more eloquently than the duke.

“Why are you here?”

“It’s our afternoon to meet at White’s, remember? I was going to tell you about my newest inventive success.”

That felt like a lifetime ago. “There have been complications.”

“By complications, I can only assume it involves your lady. Whatever it is, I do believe I predicted the outcome.”

His throat was as dry as if he’d sucked on cotton. He groaned and leaned over his desk, his head in his hands. “Not exactly. Ana and I were discovered together by Lady Malvern and my grandmother. Turns out Ana is the long-lost daughter of Lord Woodbridge. She was dismissed from her position.”

“Lord Woodbridge’s daughter, you say? Well, that explains the whisky. How much have you consumed?”

He glanced at the empty decanter on the corner of his desk. “Too much. I need to sober up and find her.”

“The dowager talked some sense into you, has she?”

“Don’t tell me that you’re here to do the same.” He looked up and scowled at the duke.

Warwick chuckled. “From the looks of you, I don’t need to punish you. You have succeeded in making yourself miserable all on your own.”

Oliver pushed back his chair. “What are friends for? Now if you really want to help, I need to find Ana. I have no idea where she ran off to.”

“Lucky I’m here, then. I ran into the trio of idiots while waiting for you at White’s,” the duke said.

That got Oliver’s attention. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. “My brother’s friends?”

“For the first time, their endless gossip turned out to be valuable. They say there is a new croupier at the Silver Chalice—your Lady Scarlet.”

Chapter Forty

It was a busy night at the Silver Chalice. The brothel had a private gambling room where men could take their chance at card tables while scantily dressed ladies served drinks and enticed gamblers to spend their winnings in the private rooms upstairs. The more Ana watched and learned, the more she admired Madame Crescent’s shrewdness as a businesswoman.

As a croupier, Ana’s gown had a shockingly low bodice. Her dark curls were pulled to one bare shoulder and tied with a ribbon. She’d been trained to greet each man with a seductive smile, to get him to spend his coin at her roulette wheel, then let the other women lead a winner upstairs where different pleasures took place for a price.

A short, portly man with a pox-marked face approached her table. “You’re new here.”

Ana smiled and gave a slight nod as he placed his chips on the table. The little white ball spun and spun, and the other men who had placed their bets watched in heightened anticipation.

The wheel stopped, and the pox-faced man won. “Red eighteen. Congratulations,” Ana said. “Would you like to place another bet?”