Page 19 of Hazard a Guest
It seemed they had arrived just after dinner, Joe realized as his eyes adjusted to the flood of candlelight in the foyer. A flurry of people were drifting about, cigar smoke and the tang of poured spirits hovering in the air.
He supposed that for events like this one, the whole house served as the drawing room. There was no need to cloister orsequester if everyone was present for the same flavors of vice. Though it did surprise him that there were evidently other ladies present.
He spotted a few after some scanning of the crowd, mostly in middle age or older, perhaps the wives of some of the gamblers or scandalous widows with enough wealth to merit an invitation.
In fact, there was only one young woman that he saw in the melee, and she was crouched off to the side of the rest, watching with wide-eyed fascination like she’d wandered into this scene quite by accident, her bright ginger hair blazing like a lighthouse beacon opposite the ocean of age, wealth, and experience.
Ember, apparently, saw her too.
“What in the blazes of hades,” she gasped, coming to a complete halt for half a second. She looked over her shoulder at Penrose with an expression like she was considering the best option between an open-handed slap or a full punch to the face. “What is little Hannah Lazarus doing here, mylord?”
“Who?” said Penrose, looking genuinely confused. “Oh. Lazarus? My banker?”
“That young woman is your banker?” Ember pressed, her eyes glittering dangerously.
“What?” Penrose was frowning, only evident by a drooping of his sculpted mustachio. “No. The man brought his daughter. She’s got the seal.”
“She’s got the…” Ember trailed off. “Which one is her father?”
“Bald fellow, just there,” said Penrose, “but Miss Donnelly, if you’ll just allow a moment, I can introduce you!”
She was already gone, marching across the room with her fists balled at her sides.
“There she goes,” said Freddy with a sigh.
“Indeed,” agreed Penrose, mirroring the sound. “Well, it’s for the best. That lass is to be her boarding mate tonight.”
Cresson could only stare.
Ember parted the crowd without so much as a raised arm or an uttered syllable. People just naturally moved apart to cut a path for her, seemingly without even realizing it themselves.
Only the girl noticed, her head coming up and her eyes widening as something like joy lit over her face.
Joe couldn’t hear her from this distance, but he was certain her lips made the shapes of Ember’s name, and Ember gave her a dutiful if disapproving embrace upon reaching her at the back of the room.
They were instantly joined by a man with a shiny bald head and a deep plum suit, who looked both pleased and surprised by this occurrence.
“He’s not a Rothschild,” sniffed Penrose to Cresson, “but let it not be said that I don’t have a member of the Tribe here to oversee the larger wagers.”
“Tribe?” Cresson repeated without any real interest, distracted by the unfolding interrogation scene as Ember greeted the bald man.
“Jews, of course,” Penrose announced with a self-satisfied chuckle. “No peer worth his salt banks with anyone else.”
It was, somehow, enough to distract Cresson momentarily, though all he could think to do was stare at the man.
Freddy cleared his throat, looking similarly discomfited.
“Of course, I didn’t realize he’d bring his daughter,” Penrose continued, either oblivious or unbothered by the lack of response. “Pretty little thing at least, sure to get into trouble in this particular den of vipers.”
“Do vipers have dens?” Cresson replied, a tartness in his tone that went completely unobserved. “I thought they preferred the dirt.”
Ember had apparently finished holding court and was marching back to them, looking completely unmollified, though in the background, both of the Lazaruses looked happy with whatever had happened during their interaction.
She huffed as she returned to their circle, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Your man thought the lass might find her footing in a place like this,” she said, disbelief drenching her tone. “He thought a display of competence here might land her a husband better than attempting to waltz next Season.”
Penrose shrugged. “It might work. Who can say? And if it doesn’t, Lazarus just has to find someone nursing a lost wager and offer to make it go away with a nice, fat dowry. I’ve seen worse approaches.”
Cresson wondered what it would feel like to punch this man. He felt his fingers flexing at just the thought of it.
