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Where the bloody hell did that come from? Marriage? Could he be serious? It wasn’t as if the wedded state was something he was against, but with his limited social life it didn’t seem he would marry any time soon. At least he hadn’t spent a great deal of time thinking about it. Until. . .
She dropped into my life.
Maybe it’s fate.
Or maybe he needed to alter his thinking and get on with training his new employee. He knew nothing about her. No one in London knew her. For all he knew she could be running from a husband. He glanced at her left hand again, reassuring himself there was no wedding ring, or the impression of one that she might have taken off.
No, until she trusted him with the information about herself, he and his brother were doing enough to help her in whatever situation from which she was escaping.
He held her chair out and took the one across from her. Time to concentrate on what they were here for. He pulled the deck of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle.
“Since you are familiar with the game, I won’t have to instruct you on how to proceed, but merely play a few hands so you can get the feel of the cards, the game, and playing against someone.”
She nodded and took another deep breath. Lord save him from leaping across the table and covering her sweet plump lips with his. It was time to concentrate on the game. Not on the woman.
About an hour passed as they played the game, alternating between him and Amelia as ‘the dealer.’ He could see her confidence grow as the time passed.
As he’d told Dante, she was a smart woman, and he could see how quickly she mimicked his movements and studied her own hand as well as his. She started out cautiously, but after a while she grew more confident and began to take chances.
They finished a hand, and he pulled the cards together and began to shuffle. “Are you ready to have a few other people join us? You would be the dealer.”
“Yes. I think I’m ready.” She grinned and he couldn’t help but return her smile.
“I’ll be right back. Why don’t you ring for something to drink, or eat if you’re hungry?”
“I could use some tea. But I hate to ring for it. I’m just another employee.”
She had a good point. Resentment might build if she was given privileges others were not. It was bad enough that she slept in the bedroom on the office floor. “I agree. I will have someone from the kitchen send up tea when I go down to find a few employees to join us.”
Driscoll made his way to the kitchen, requested the tea and then found some employees to join him and Amelia upstairs. Since he was away from his desk—which was a rarity—he strolled the game floor for a while. It appeared the house was doing quite well tonight.
“Well, good evening, Mr. Rose. We rarely see you down here.” Mrs. Beckenridge patted him on the arm with the painted fan dangling from her wrist. The widow was notorious for switching lovers at an alarming rate. She apparently was so experienced and so willing to delve into anything and everything that the line was long to replace her current lover.
She’d teased him just about every time they’d met, but there was absolutely nothing about the woman that tempted him. Why she continued to goad him was bey
ond comprehension. He’d never given her any indication that she was of interest to him. Unless it was his resistance that held appeal. Perhaps she couldn’t stand the thought of a man not eager to take her to his bed.
Not that he was a prude, but he didn’t care for the idea of having a well-used woman underneath him. Aside from the possibility of picking up a disease, he was much more select in choosing his partners.
Nevertheless, she was a patron, and he had a job to do and a business to run. “Good evening to you as well, Mrs. Beckenridge. I thought it time to take a break and look around, so I don’t forget what the place looks like.” He grinned hoping that was enough conversation for her. He went to move past her, and she reached out and grasped his upper arm.
“You spend far too much time with your nose buried in your ledgers.” She ran her long, red fingernail from his shoulder down his arm. “I can offer you something much more interesting to bury your nose in.”
Good God, the woman had no shame. He was almost embarrassed for her, even though she only smiled at what she must have thought was a much-coveted invitation. His skin crawled and he couldn’t get away fast enough. “Some other time, perhaps.” He bowed and moved as fast as he could.
The sound of her deep, sultry laugh followed him.
“Watch out for that one.” Dante nodded in Mrs. Beckenridge’s direction as he strolled up to Driscoll.
“No need to warn me, brother. She holds no appeal, I assure you.” Driscoll shook his head in disgust and headed back upstairs, making a wide circle around Mrs. Beckenridge.
* * *
Amelia played a game of solitaire as she waited for Driscoll and the staff members he was bringing with him. She’d always enjoyed the game, especially when she was tense and unable to lose herself in a book.
Just about the entire time she’d spent with her stepbrother.
In the couple months since she’d relocated from her much beloved home in the country to his townhouse in London, she’d been on edge. It had been apparent from the start that he had no intention of introducing her to London Society. When she asked him about a Season and told him she knew her stepfather had planned one for her, he laughed.
