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Bobby never minded gazing upon a lovely woman and studied the photographs with interest. Judith was Bobby’s only love, of course, but no harm in having a look.
The hard-eyed man had riveted his stare to Bobby while she leafed through the pictures. She felt his gaze skewering her, trying to penetrate her disguise.
Bobby’s heart beat faster. She’d told Judith she didn’t much worry that she’d be revealed as having the body of a woman, but now she wondered if the blasted man would expose her.
What would these chaps do to her if he did? Bobby had learned some boxing in her day, but nothing that would help her fight her way free of a gang of men and run for home.
She kept her head bent over the pictures, as though examining them thoroughly. One lady was quite pretty, with either blonde or red hair—hard to tell on a photograph that hadn’t been tinted. Shapely lass, wearing only knickers, her long legs crossed. She stared with good humor at the photographer, as though having her picture taken without her clothes on was good fun. Bobby smiled back at her.
She felt the man’s attention on her lessen, and when she dared look up again, she saw that he’d redirected his scrutiny to William.
Bobby exhaled in relief, then that breath caught. Beneath the picture of the blonde lady, Bobby found a photograph of a comely woman with long, sleek hair and features she knew very well.
She stared, frozen, at the image, her mission forgotten. The woman’s dark hair twined about her bare torso, framing the bosom Bobby had grown quite fond of. Like the lady in the previous photo, she wore only the bottom half of combinations, her lower legs and elegant feet exposed. The woman peeped at the camera through a lock of her hair, far more seductively than had the blonde.
When the devil had Judith Townsend decided to pose for bawdy photographs?
She looked younger in the picture, so likely years before she’d met Bobby, but still, Bobby thought Judith would have mentioned it by now. She’d always known Judith had lived a colorful life on the Continent, but she hadn’t realized how colorful.
Bobby brought the picture closer to her face. Yes, it was Judith’s right shoulder peeking at her, and her slim cheek, those eyes that made Bobby melt into a puddle. On her other shoulder …
She peered harder, wishing the lighting in the room was better. Instead of gaslight, the club had candles and kerosene lamps, probably to keep the high-wagering gentlemen from better seeing their cards.
Bobby realized abruptly that the woman in the picture wasn’t Judith at all. But a dashed good resemblance. So good, that there was only one thing for it.
She shuffled to the next photograph, barely noting that this young woman was completely nude, her back to the photographer, peering saucily behind her.
Bobby went through the rest of the dozen before she managed to drop the pictures all over the floor.
“Damn,” she said loudly, then dove for them.
A waiter hurried to help, and together they picked up the photographs. Bobby palmed the one of Judith’s double and slid it into her pocket.
She grinned as she restored the photographs to the paper and slid it to the next man in line. “Bit of flesh always makes me tremble,” she said heartily, and the gents on either side of her laughed.
The hard-eyed man would know the photo was missing. But with luck, he might think that it was still stuck under the table or that the waiter had absconded with it.
To her relief, the man seemed to have lost all interest in the photographs. The packet made it to the last player, who laid the pictures aside after he’d had his ogle, but the hard-eyed bloke made no move to retrieve them. Terrance glanced at them longingly, and Bobby saw his hand edge toward them.
Had the hard-eyed man been testing Bobby? Suspecting she was not what she seemed? Unnerving.
She must have passed his little stratagem, because he ignored her for the rest of the game.
Bobby decided this would be her last hand. She threw down her cards and her coins in disgust when she lost and slid from her seat. She moved slowly toward the card room’s exit, glancing at other games as though tempted to join them, then shook her head and meandered into the corridor.
As much as she itched to hurry, she knew that running out of the club like the hounds of hell chased her would only draw more notice. She made herself pause in the hallway for several more puffs on her cheroot before depositing the end into a bowl set out for that purpose. Only then did she stride to the foyer, calling for her hat and coat.
It was colder outside tonight. The finer weather of early autumn had deserted London, and chill rain pattered to the cobbles. Bobby adjusted her scarf and resigned herself to trudging down the Strand in search of a cab.
A carriage rumbled to a halt in front of her before she reached Bedford Street. Bobby recognized the coach and the figure of Dunstan, Judith’s coachman, at the reins.
Torn between annoyance and relief, Bobby yanked open the carriage’s door and hauled herself inside.
“Following me about, are you?” she demanded as she landed on the seat next to Judith.
The carriage jerked as Dunstan started forward. Even this late, the Strand was full of vehicles conveying patrons to and from theatres, or revelers to soirees and such. The social Season was long over but that didn’t stop anyone still in Town from gadding about to every event they could find.
“I am, yes.” Judith sat calmly, her shoulder against Bobby’s warm and solid. “Concerned for you. And from your present agitation, I had a right to be.”
