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Mary bobbed her head. “That may be true, but it is a start.”
Emmeline frowned. “What is it a start of?”
“Whatever you decide your future to be.”
“You are not the least bit helpful,” Emmeline remarked with a shake of her head.
Mary grinned. “I am sure you will come to the correct decision on your own.”
“You have entirely too much faith in me.”
“Perhaps you don’t have enough in yourself,” Mary countered. “You may just need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, you will see things more clearly.”
Emmeline rose and said, “I surely hope that is true.”
Chapter Two
Lord Oliver Radcliffwas utterly miserable. He reached for his glass on the table and took a small sip. He had to give the appearance that he was drinking, but he had no desire to become inebriated. He needed to be alert to everything that was going on around him. Not that anyone suspected that he was anything more than a rakehell. No. He was sure of that.
He had been working as an agent for the Crown for nearly six years, and he was weary of using the same blasted cover. His unique position allowed him to report back to the agency about any member of Society who had radical views. There had to be more to his life than just babysitting schoolboys.
There were ten round tables in the gambling hell, and he was attempting to listen to what was being said at nearly every table. Most of the conversations he overheard were the same usual debates he’d heard at every gambling hell: the skirmish with America, Napoleon being exiled, and the Prince Regent’s outlandish spending habits.
He had opinions on the matters, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t dare reveal his allegiance to the Crown. Instead, he would listen to the pompous gentlemen spout off their views, regardless of whether they even knew what they were speaking of. And, frankly, many of them did not. Their radical speech betrayed the ideals of the nation.
How he looked forward to an assignment that didn’t revolve around spying on his comrades.
“Are you with us, mate?” Mr. Philip Booth asked as he gestured to the cards in his hand.
Oliver placed his glass back on the table. “I am, but I am rather bored with this game.”
Mr. Samuel Follett chuckled next to him. “You are being rather cocky for a man who has lost the last five hands,” he said. “I almost feel bad for taking your money.”
“Even if I lost another ten hands, it still wouldn’t come close to the amount I have collected from you over the last few nights,” Oliver joked.
Mr. Paul Haskett shook his head in amusement. “You have been rather preoccupied the last few nights, Radcliff,” he said. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“Do you ever tire of this life?” Oliver asked.
His three friends stared back at him with blank expressions.
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Oliver said, answering his own question.
Booth put his cards down. “What is wrong with this life?” he questioned. “We eat, drink, and enjoy the company of lovely ladies.”
“Why do you wish to deny the ladies our attention?” Follett asked good-naturedly.
Oliver tossed his cards into the center of the table. “What is our purpose?”
“Our purpose is to have fun,” Haskett replied with a knitted brow. “What else would we do with our time?”
“My apologies, but we aren’t truly making a difference in anyone’s lives,” Oliver said.
“Why would that matter?” Booth asked. “We are young and have an allowance.”
Oliver leaned forward in his chair. “What would you do if your father cut off your allowance?” he inquired.
“He wouldn’t dare,” Haskett declared.
