Page 108 of One Night with an Earl

“I’d like to place a different type of wager.” His hand snaked out across the green baize to touch hers.

She resisted the urge to pull her fingers from his grasp. Instead, she leaned forward and with effort forced her painted lips to curl in a smile. “I’m busy here, but there are others who will be more than eager to oblige you tonight.”

His beady gaze was focused on her face. “I don’t want one of the others. I want you.”

Fortunately, one of the girls spotted the trouble before Ana could motion to the guards at the door. The red-haired courtesan sidled up to the man, brushed her voluptuous breasts against his arm, and whispered something into his ear. Her charms worked effectively to distract him, and she took his hand and led him off.

Ana let out a slow sigh of relief. This was not the first time a lewd gambler had propositioned her. The croupiers were not whores. They were too valuable to Madame Crescent in the gaming room. However, every once in a while, a man would offer a small fortune and could convince the proprietress to spare one of them for a night. Ana’s agreement with the madame was clear. She’d work the roulette wheel as Lady Scarlet, nothing more, until she could find employment elsewhere.

The problem was she had been unable to find employment. Without a reference from Lady Malvern, no one was willing to take her on, and London was not large enough for her to escape the lady’s influence. It was also best if a governess or nanny was older and unattractive so as not to tempt the lord of the manor or his sons.

So she stayed at the Silver Chalice and slept in a small room Madame Crescent had assigned to her. Night after night she tolerated the male patrons and prayed her luck would change. The gambling room bustled with activity, and for the hours she worked, she was able to hide a broken heart behind false smiles. But the time after her shifts were over was different. The facade would crack like shattered glass and she’d clutch a pillow to her chest to attempt to ease the ever-present ache in her heart as the tears flowed freely.

The horrid evening in the Malverns’ music room could never be erased from her mind. Oliver had stood silent as her world crumbled around her. He hadn’t believed her when she’d claimed she planned to tell him everything. Instead he thought she was the worst kind of woman—a woman who would sleep with the son of a man she had reason to despise for revenge.

She’d read it in his expression, in the flash of doubt in his eyes, then his fury.

Could she blame him?

She’d kept the secret to herself for so long, unable to risk trusting someone with it. That lack of trust had kept her alive for over a decade.

But the problem was that she had trusted, and she had madly, desperately fallen in love. Worse, she’d foolishly longed for a life she could have had with Oliver if their pasts had been different.

Her punishment was worse than she’d thought. Her dismay had grown as her funds were nearly depleted and she needed to provide for her brother. The old Earl of Drake was responsible for her father’s ruin.

Now, the son was responsible for hers.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Madame Crescent approach. Thank goodness for the proprietress. Who would have thought a brothel owner would have come to her rescue?

“You are an exceptional croupier and know just how to handle the advances of a besotted customer. Will you stay?” the madame asked.

Ana shook her head. “I’ll always be grateful to you for offering me sanctuary in my time of need, but I plan to leave London for the country. No one will know me there, and I hope to find work.”

Madame Crescent cocked her head to the side, and her expressive eyes watched her like a rare item in a curiosity cabinet. “I will be sad to see you go. But not as sad as the gentleman who just walked through the door.”

Ana’s eyebrows snapped together. “Who?” She whirled to the door, then she saw him.

Oliver.

A burst of joy jolted through her chest at the sight of him. He’d not yet spotted her, so she drank in his angular jaw, aquiline nose, and chiseled profile. Then reality and a shimmer of panic set in. Why was he here? Was it a coincidence or had he come searching for her? Had he shown up to punish her further, or for some other purpose?

Either way, she could not face him. Not now. She wouldn’t survive it. Her emotions were too fragile, and she feared she’d scream, or faint, or both.

He turned. Too late! Their eyes locked, and her heart slammed in her chest.

She bolted from behind the wheel toward a back door, but no matter how fast she was, he was faster. His powerful frame blocked her path, his broad shoulders looming over her. He didn’t touch her, but wedged between the table and his body, she was trapped.

Anger and frustration bubbled inside her as she raised her chin and met his dark eyes. “Step aside. I was just leaving.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I’d like one last spin on your wheel, Miss Woodbridge.”

Chapter Forty-One

Miss Woodbridge.

At the sound of her true name from Oliver’s lips, Ana’s stomach dropped. At one time in her life, the name meant family and gave her standing and power.

Now it gave him power.