Page 104 of From Rakes to Riches

“My friends don’t take well to nobs. We’re very different people from those who live here in Mayfair.” She gestured toward one of the velvet-draped windows and moved away, buthe came up behind her, gently clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him.

“Lola.” Whenever he said her name, his tone, his voice and the emotion there, always reached for her heart. “What’s wrong?”

He stood too close. Heat emanated from him. His spicy bergamot cologne filled her lungs. “I need to go.” She pulled away before he distracted her with affection and she’d need to distract him with lies. “Don’t wait for me after the show.”

He stepped back. He didn’t stop her when she walked to the door. Nor did he follow her out.

She hurried toward the corner to hail a hackney, cursing herself. She knew better than to make this mistake. Nothing could come of their kisses. Her future would always be uncertain because of what she’d done. Thankfully, Marco was the only person who knew about her past. In her world, truth was often more dangerous than lies.

10

Theodore entered White’s and nabbed a brandy from a nearby tray. Many of the gentleman in the room wore a black band of mourning around their sleeve resembling his own. He’d visited Fremont House before coming to the club and Margaret was doing as well as could be expected. She was busy with callers offering condolences, so he hadn’t approached her, but she had her betrothed at her side and other family members there for support and that eased his mind.

Now he made his way through the hall, down the stairs and into the card room in search of the Earl of Huntington. Huntington enjoyed cards, piquet to be exact, and Theodore hoped to find him at a table. When he’d come to White’s last week, Huntington had intimated Fremont’s attitude had changed during the last two years. Having discovered evidence to support Huntington’s comment, Theodore hoped to convince his friend to elaborate. Too many questions remained unanswered.

“Essex!” Huntington called as Theodore crossed the room. “Come sit in on a hand. I’m fleecing Mowbray. Mayhap you’ll bring him some luck.”

Theodore approached the table where Huntington sat across from Alan Gresley, Baron Mowbray. A long while had passed since he’d shared Mowbray’s company, but Theodore might never have recognized the man were it not for Huntington’s announcement. Mowbray was younger by at least five years, but he appeared older by comparison. His complexion looked ruddy and his hair had gone too long without a cut. Mowbray glanced up, narrowed his eyes at Theodore, and then immediately returned his attention to his cards.

“Mowbray.” Theodore greeted the man, although the baron didn’t look up again to acknowledge him.

Huntington was also busy examining his cards. Theodore took the empty chair even though he had no intention of playing. He wanted to speak to Huntington alone, but he’d have to wait it out. His friend would never abandon a winning streak.

“How goes it since we last spoke?” Huntington said as he revealed a quint, the high scoring combination of five matched suits causing Mowbray to grumble angrily.

“How many rounds do you have left?” Theodore eyed the table. If the discard pile was any indication, the game was nearly over.

“Two, at best,” Huntington said, his voice lowered. “I’m just shy of one hundred.”

“Not yet,” Mowbray piped up as he displayed his hand of cards. “That’s six more points for me.”

Theodore leaned closer, his words meant for Huntington only. “How long have you been at this? Mowbray looks a little worse for the wear.”

“A few hours,” Huntington replied. “This should finish it out.”

Huntington revealed a final trick and scored the points he needed. He collected his winnings and stood from the table.“Let’s go up to the morning room. Lately Mowbray’s a sore loser.”

“Then why do you play piquet with him?” Theodore asked as they moved up the stairs.

“He’s always after a game and I’m happy to oblige. However, he used to be far better company. It’s only the last month or so he’s become surly and argumentative. Otherwise, he was always a high-stake player with very deep pockets who enjoyed the game heartily. There were nights we’d gamble into the wee hours. Just not of late.” Huntington shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the situation. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

They found two open chairs near the window and Theodore glanced out at the passing traffic, still unsettled by his visit with Lola this morning. She’d left upset and he wasn’t sure why. One minute they were sharing sensual kisses and the next she couldn’t leave his home fast enough. He took another sip of brandy and put those thoughts away for later examination.

“Last time I was here you mentioned Fremont had changed. How so?” He may as well get right to the point.

“I’m not completely comfortable talking poorly about him now that he’s gone, but I believe it’s common knowledge in the club that Fremont was having money troubles.”

“Yes, I know about that.”

“One night, when we’d all had too much liquor, Mowbray confided in me that someone had Fremont in a firm grip,” Huntington said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Mowbray didn’t elaborate, although I understood it to mean extortion of some kind.”

“What?” Theodore couldn’t have heard his friend correctly.

“Someone demanding money in exchange?—”

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