Page 11 of Rogue Lyon

“That won’t be necessary,” Meredith said, “I was just doing my job and—”

“That is very kind of you.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon set her finger on the coin and pushed it right up to Meredith. “And appreciated.”

Meredith hesitated for a moment and then pocketed the coin.

Mr. Habsburg stood and collected his money. It appeared to weigh heavily in his jacket pocket.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said to Meredith. “You have done very well this evening. Go rest and get something to eat.”

“Yes, thank you. Of course.” Meredith smiled at Mrs. Dove-Lyon and then Mr. Habsburg.

He grinned back, flashing neat, white teeth. The expression went to his eyes, crinkling them at the corners and making him even more handsome.

A flush of heat rose in her chest. He was possibly the finest-looking man she’d seen during all of her time in London. Chiseled, clean-shaven jawline, straight nose, not too big and not too small, and side-whiskers the perfect length to be fashionable but not overstated.

Quickly, she turned before he saw the flush of heat reach her cheeks.

Her heart rate picked up to a gallop and she slipped into the crowd and toward the ladies’ dining room. What was this feeling of excitement combined with soul-twisting self-consciousness?

And why hadn’t Mrs. Dove-Lyon ever matched her up with someone like Jules Habsburg?

These questions were burning through her when she came across Nancy by the food table in the Ladies’ Room.

“Are you taking a break?” Nancy asked, slipping a meat tart onto a plate.

“Yes… No… I don’t know.” Meredith touched her warm brow. “I mean, I’ve finished for the evening.”

“Did something happen?” Nancy bit on her bottom lip and studied her. “Couldn’t you deal, after all?”

“Of course I could deal, but yes, something went wrong.” She looked at the table of food, but her stomach was tight and fluttery. She couldn’t eat a thing.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” Nancy tutted. “Dealing is hard.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s perfectly easy when you know how, which I do.” Meredith dropped onto a chair and pulled a pin from her hair that had been poking her scalp. A long tendril slid to her shoulder and tickled her flesh. “They were cheating.”

“Who was cheating?” Nancy’s mouth hung open.

“Three of my four players. They were working together to cheat Mr. Habsburg out of his money.”

“Mr. Habsburg. Jules Habsburg?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“Of him. I know of him.” Nancy sat beside Meredith with her saucer on her lap. “His reputation precedes him.”

“What reputation?”

“He’s a scoundrel and best kept at arm’s length.”

Meredith was shocked at the harsh summation. “He didn’t appear to be.”

“Well, he is. Rich and very handsome, he might be, but he’s been banned from many establishments in London.”

“For what reason?” This was so hard to believe.

“Trading, I hear. In art.”

“Hardly a crime. Many people deal in art. Rich people, that is.”