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12
Driscoll tapped his pen on the desk and stared at the ridiculous painting of two love birds that Dante had received from one of his paramours and insisted on hanging on their office wall. Not that it mattered because Driscoll’s eyes didn’t really see it since his thoughts were miles from where he sat.
He was getting into trouble.
His feelings for the mysterious lady only a few doors down from his office were becoming complicated. Yes, he’d felt lust for her from the time she climbed to her feet after falling through the window. The rain-soaked shirt and trousers she wore highlighted every single curve the woman possessed. A man would have had to be dead not to react to that.
But now other feelings had given rise without him even aware of whence they arrived. Sneaking up on him, they did.
Protectiveness, caring, respect, curiosity, but most of all a desire to solve whatever issue it was with which Amelia was dealing. To be the knight in shining armor to her lady in distress.
She didn’t belong on a gaming room floor dealing cards to men who made lewd suggestions and tossed out coarse invitations. She deserved marriage to a husband who adored her, provided for her, and protected her from lecherous men.
Children. Most of all, her caring and sunny nature would make her a wonderful mother.
He’d been quite cynical when his brother, Hunt, had announced he was marrying Lady Diana, also known as Lady Trouble. The woman had been a plague on Hunt’s existence most of his life. Yet, all Hunt’s convoluted feelings had eventually melded into love. Strong love. Protective love. About-to-have-a-baby love.
Truthfully, Driscoll had never given a great deal of thought about marriage for himself. His brother, the heir, was healthy and strong so Driscoll had never worried about the burden of inheriting. And now with Diana and Hunt’s baby due sometime soon, Driscoll would thankfully move farther down the line.
With no need for the confining state of matrimony, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind, thinking someday, when he had the time, he might look for a wife. Dip his toes, as it were, into the Marriage Mart. He’d select someone he could stand to look at over the breakfast table for the rest of his life and who would not make it a chore to bed her. A woman who was beyond the years of most debutantes, past the giggling and blushing stage.
He’d imagined a warm friendship between them, with caring and affection on both sides, but certainly not an encompassing love. From what he’d seen, love wasn’t the primary reason people—especially of his class—married.
He told himself Hunt and Diana were the exception.
Since he and Dante had been building their business and watching their money grow, all his time and energy had been spent thusly. Hell, Driscoll didn’t even live in a respectable house. He rented a flat not far from the club, always assuming one day he would look for a proper residence to either lease or purchase. Just like one day he would look for a wife.
Then a thought slammed into him like a fist to the gut. Perhaps ‘one day’ had crept closer to him when he wasn’t watching.
The door to the office swinging open interrupted his meandering. Dante entered and collapsed into the chair in front of Driscoll’s desk. He tugged at his cravat and yanked it off. “I’m glad the night’s over. We had a much larger crowd than normal. Do you suppose word of a female dealer had spread?”
“Perhaps. Amelia’s table was full the entire time she worked. Most times the table was three deep with men waiting to take a seat.”
Dante stretched with a loud yawn and then rested his linked fingers on his middle. “How did she do? I saw you replace her a couple of hours ago.”
“She did quite well, actually. No missteps that I could see. However—” He stopped, not exactly sure what he wanted to say.
“What?”
“I’m not sure we’re doing her a service, Dante. Amelia should not be working in a gaming club.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “She was insulted, propositioned, and spoken to as no lady should be.”
“You don’t know she’s a lady, brother. In fact, we know nothing about her. If you’re that concerned, and want to keep her on the payroll, put her in the kitchen, or add to our maid count. We can find someone to take her place at the table.”
Driscoll sat back and shook his head. “I can no more abide putting a lady to work in the kitchen, or cleaning water closets than dealing cards to rakes and libertines.”
Dante shrugged. “Then marry the chit.”
The words Driscoll was about to speak came to a grinding halt.
Marry her?
Not realizing how his brother’s easily tossed out words had affected him, Dante continued. “She’s given you no choice. If she has family out there,” he waved in the general direction of the window, “she doesn’t want to accept whatever help they can give her. If she has no family, then this job is her means of support.”
Completely ignoring Dante’s suggestion that he could marry her, Driscoll said, “She can marry.”
“Who? If not you, then one of the cads propositioning her? I would think they are more interested in making her their mistress.”
Driscoll slammed his hand down on the desk. “I would never allow that!”
