Page 2 of Rogue Lyon

“I’d work for free—well, for room and board. That way, I could stay in London. I might meet someone. Perhaps I am simply here at a time when there is no match for me, but come the winter, I will be more lucky.”

“And what would you do? Work in the kitchen? As a maid?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think that would be befitting of one of my young ladies.”

“No, not in the kitchen or as a maid. Put me on the floor. Let me work there?”

“In my casino? Front of house?” The widow sat forward and her eyebrows shot up. “Why ever would I do that? I have my men, my special men.”

The special men were all mollies; everyone knew that. It kept the players’ eyes on the table without distraction. Meredith took a deep breath. “I can play whist and loo and speculation. My father was a keen and skilled card player. When he got sick, we played together. A lot. He taught me everything he knew. I’m good, very good. I promise you that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and chess too. That was something he was excellent at, and I am too.” Meredith raised her chin. She wasn’t a boastful person ever, but she recognized that this was a moment she needed to sell herself.

“Chess too, you say.”

“I could teach chess in the private gaming room.” Meredith warmed to her theme. “I’ve heard it’s becoming more popular among the London gentlemen. They will all want to learn from an expert, don’t you think? After all, it is a very refined pastime.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded. “Indeed, it is.”

Meredith could practically see the cogs of the old widow’s mind whirring. “Give me a trial in the gaming room, I beg you. You won’t be disappointed. And chess would be another income stream for you. Charging for private tuition could be a lucrative little foray.” She paused. “And isn’t one of your dealers, Peter, in the hospital?”

“Yes. He is.” She frowned. “Very well.” She held out her finger and pointed at Meredith. “But on the tables first, cards, and if there is one hand out of place, then that’s it… Back to Wales.”

“Thank you. Oh, thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“One other thing.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued to point at Meredith’s face. “Rouge, ribbons, beads—we’ve talked about this before. Gentlemen like the ladies looking fancy, not as though they have been dragged through a hedge backward.”

Meredith tapped her brown, curly hair. Dragged through a hedge was somewhat harsh. She had brushed her hair just that morning. “But wouldn’t you rather they weren’t distracted? Maybe I should wear a hat?”

“Indoors? No, that would never do. Go see Nancy. She’ll make sure you are wearing appropriate attire.”

“Nancy. Yes, I’ll do that.” Meredith stood. “Thank you again. I’ll work really hard for you, I promise.”

“Good. Now be off with you. I have letters to read.”

“Yes, of course. Have a good day.”

Meredith slipped from the dark, stuffy office and into the cool of the corridor. She leaned her back on the wall and closed her eyes. What had she let herself in for?

The Lyon’s Den was an establishment dedicated to male excess with gambling, drinking, dancing, and exotic menus. Classy, with gilded walls and smart staff, it was a club that only the wealthy gentry knew about, or at least, they were the only folk permitted entry by the burly door staff.

And now she was going to be working there, on the main floor. Behind a game table, beneath a fancy chandelier, alongside others who had years of experience handling decks for punters and making sure rules weren’t broken.

Her heart thudded and sweat popped on her brow. Perhaps going home to her mother would have been the more sensible option. Why had she gone and opened her mouth? It wasn’t like her to be so spontaneous or forthright. Cool and calculated, that was her nature.

So it just went to show how much she did want to stay in London. It might not be for the original reason, to become a married woman, but it would be for a life less mundane and a job that paid her with shelter and a full stomach.

That would do.

Sometimes in life, it was wise to be grateful.

“Meredith, are you well?”

She opened her eyes. “Nancy, I was just about to come find you.”

“Well, now you’ve found me.” Nancy smiled. She was tall and willowy with pale-gray eyes and wispy, strawberry-blonde hair. Her lips were always painted with red pomade. She frowned, creasing her perfectly smooth brow. “Have you just come from Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office?”

“Yes.”