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Sir John watched Lyons leave, then turned to Randolph. “I say, Newton, while I certainly don’t agree with what you and Lyons have cooked up, I’m surprised you would offer such a sweet morsel for a single gaming debt.”
Randolph drew himself up. “Why not?”
“Thinking like the economist I am, it occurred to me you are paying one debt with the girl. If the chit is so desirable, I’m surprised you didn’t set up an auction.” He grinned and shook his head, taking another sip of brandy.
Randolph’s jaw dropped. What a grand idea! “You mean, get a few gentle
men together, offer her to the highest bidder. That sort of thing? Have you been to one of those?”
It was Devlin’s turn to look stunned. “I was joking, old man. I would never participate in such an event.” He pointed at Randolph. “And you would be wise to take it as meant. A joke.”
Randolph waved his hand in dismissal. “Of course, I was just playing with you.” His mind in a whirl on how he could set something like that up, he finished his brandy and stood. “Well, I must be off. I have appointments myself.”
He strode from the room, glancing around quickly to see who he thought might be interested in such an event. Miles Martin caught his eye. He’d just dismissed his mistress the week before. Then there was Lord Beltran who was always up for new flesh.
There were others who came to mind, those who enjoyed life to the fullest, living the life of sin and debauchery, who would certainly be interested. Smiling and mentally rubbing his hands, his heart pounding with excitement, he left the club. Yes, this was a fine idea.
Then he came to an abrupt halt, almost causing the couple behind him in front of a haberdashery to run into him. He apologized and crossed the street.
Once they snatched the girl Lyons was expecting to take her immediately. How the devil to deal with that issue? While he was busy compiling the list of gentlemen to invite to the event, he would have to figure out how to get out of his debt to Lyons. Without resorting to pistols at dawn. After all, he was a gentleman.
* * *
Dante leaned against the doorjamb to Driscoll’s office, studying his brother. “What’s the news, brother?”
Since there was no point in pretending he didn’t know what Dante was implying, Driscoll leaned back and tapped his pencil on the desk in front of him. “Lower receipts again.”
Dante continued to glare at him, almost to the point where Driscoll felt like shifting in his seat.
“We have to speak with the girl, Driscoll. We cannot continue as if nothing is wrong. Despite her active table her returns for the night have consistently been lower than her ten days when you were watching her.”
Driscoll ran his fingers though his hair. “I know. But something tells me there is more than the obvious answer to the puzzle.”
Dante snorted. “I know what the ‘something’ is that’s keeping you blindfolded to the chit.”
Driscoll gritted his teeth, his blood pumping furiously through his body. “Do. Not. Call. Her. That.”
“Which one? Chit or thief?”
Within seconds Driscoll was across the room and had his brother by the throat on the floor. “Amelia is not a thief!” He drew his fist back and clipped him on the jaw.
They rolled around the floor throwing punches until the door to the office opened.
“Whatever is going on in here?” Amelia stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the two of them. “I can’t believe two grown men—brothers no less—are fighting like a couple of street urchins.”
Driscoll shoved Dante away and stood, dusting off his jacket. Dante climbed to his feet, rubbing his chin. He pointed his finger at Driscoll. “Take care of it.” He strode to the door, rearranging his clothes. He pulled the door open and turned back. “Or I will.”
Amelia flinched when the door slammed, then walked to Driscoll and fussed with his jacket, fixing the collar while he stood staring at her. No matter what the evidence, and despite his fondness for her, he could not believe she would steal from them.
Before he could change his mind, he drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and waist. Her hands stopped and rested on his chest. He lowered his head and captured her soft lips. He brushed his lips back and forth until she leaned into him with a slight moan.
All the passion mixed with fear from Dante’s accusations turned the kiss into something more than he’d ever shared with her before. More than he’d ever shared with any other woman.
Amelia was his. He might have a small doubt in his mind due to his brother’s accusations, but there was no question about his feelings, and his desire to take the next step.
He pulled back and smiled. Her eyes were glassy, her short breaths coming rapidly, drawing his eyes to her delectable breasts.
She drew small circles on his jacket with her fingertip. “What was that all about?”
