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Leo displayed an enormous amount of patience with Castlewaite, considering the relationship Leo had once had with the man’s daughter. He’d meant to revoke Castlewaite’s membership long ago until Leo had found out the marquess was Imogene’s father.
If Castlewaite had ever suspected Leo had taken his daughter’s virtue, he’d never given any indication. His opinion of Leo was formed purely on the basis of Leo’s birth.
I can’t possibly have you drag me down into the muck.
No, he supposed he couldn’t. Leo hadn’t even realized hewasthe muck. No matter; Imogene had quickly advised him of the fact after they’d taken each other’s virginity. He’d been fifteen.
“Perhaps there is something I can assist you with, my lord.”
“A gentleman’s matter.” Castlewaite refused to meet his eyes.
“Pity I can’t help you then.”
Castlewaite often asked Tony to witness his wagers. Not Leo, because Castlewaite didn’t consider him a gentleman.
Imogene hadn’t been Leo’s first lesson in how society viewed him, but at barely fifteen, he’d still been coming to terms with what being a bastard meant outside of Cherry Hill. After Imogene’s cruel dismissal even though she’d declared her undying love for him, Leo had decided he would give no one else the opportunity to decide his place in the world.
“I mean no disrespect, Murphy,” Castlewaite muttered.
Doddering fool.“Of course not, my lord. When I see my brother, I’ll ask him to seek you out. Enjoy your evening.” He bowed slightly and moved away, having no idea where his brother had wandered off to. No matter. It was early. They’d find each other eventually. In the meantime, Leo decided to check on the recently hired dealer for the faro table.
Larkin was a former pickpocket, one who’d narrowly escaped hanging when the pocket he’d picked had been Leo’s. Larkin had been half-starved. Dirty. In need of a bit of kindness in the world. His mother had been a whore. He’d no idea who his father was.
Leo had brought him to Elysium. Most of the staff were strays of one kind or another.
His steps slowed as he caught sight of the faro table. Not because Larkin was nervously twitching, terrified he’d make a mistake in front of the Duke of Windmere who sat at his table. No, it was because of a slender back clad in powder-blue silk.
Gold ringlets hovered at the base of her neck. One had fallen loose, cascading down the creamy expanse of her left shoulder. Her head tilted to the right as she listened to something Larkin said. She smiled back at the dealer, answering him in a flat, nasal tone.
American.
Something stirred inside Leo, wholly unexpected at the sound of her, though it wasn’t the first time he’d heard an American speak. He came up behind her, taken aback by the soft aroma of wildflowers. An entire field of them.
Arousal, sharp and swift, wound its way down his thighs. And he hadn’t even gotten a look at her face. Then there was the insane urge to run his lips across her shoulder, maybe tug at that golden curl with his teeth.
Larkin looked over the woman’s shoulder, catching Leo’s eye. He dipped his head. “Mr. Murphy.”
“Everything going well this evening, Larkin?”
The young lady seemed uncaring of his presence so close to her. She didn’t turn or acknowledge him. Didn’t she know who he was?
Highly unusual.Everyone in Elysium knew who he was. Leo found himself intrigued. A rare occurrence and something for which the odds were very low.
“Very well, sir.” Larkin turned to Windmere.
Leo studied the delicate shape of the young lady’s profile as her brow wrinkled in concentration. She was very young. Barely out of the schoolroom. And yet, she displayed not an ounce of discomfort sitting at a faro table alone at a gambling hell. A glass of wine remained untouched at her elbow as she studied the cards in her hand.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance.” Leo took the seat next to her.
“I sincerely doubt that.” She didn’t turn in his direction; instead, her chin tilted so mulishly one might have thought she was bracing herself to take a punch to the jaw instead of being offered aid by a gentleman.
Defiant little thing.“Are you sure? I’m rather good at cards.”
“Hmm. So claims every other lord in here.” The neckline of her gown was almost indecent, giving Leo a glimpse of what was clearly a pair of magnificent breasts. “Gentlemen say such things,” she continued, “so that under the guise of looking at my cards to assist me, they might admire my bosom.” Her gaze slid to his waistcoat; she shivered with what appeared to be distaste before barely glancing at Leo’s face. Her attention returned to her cards. She was completely uninterested in him.
Leo was struck speechless at her manner. A well-bred young lady wouldn’t speak in such a way, and she didn’t have the look of a courtesan. A courtesan would have been much more welcoming.
“You’re American,” he finally said.
