Page 9 of My Kind of Scoundel
He inhaled deeply. “I would rather watch libertines lose at the card table than endure the nonsense on stage.”
His remark was a cue to ask an important question.
“Is the club closed tonight?” she said, gauging how and when she might force the lock on the front door. “I’m surprised your eldest brother could spare you.”
Aaron Chance was a hard taskmaster. Fooling him to gain entrance to Fortune’s Den would be no mean feat.
Being astute, he gave a playful wink. “I suppose you’re considering how you might force your way inside. This would be much simpler if you were honest and told me what’s so special about the box.”
Unwilling to take the blame for him being attacked a second time, she politely told him to mind his own business. “My troubles are my own. Might you summon a hackney? There is somewhere else I desperately need to be.”
Mr Chance obliged by whistling to the jarvey parked farther along the narrow street. He retrieved an ornate iron key from his coat pocket, captured her gloved hand and placed it in her palm.
“Don’t lose heart.” His teasing grin made her wonder if the move was a strategic part of his game. “I agreed to obligeyou if you made the kiss look authentic. This is your reward, Miss Darrow.” He curled her fingers over the key but did not release her hand.
Something passed between them.
Something other than frustration and annoyance.
Something that made her heart race wildly.
“I presume it’s the key to your club, sir, though I don’t see why you cannot bring the box to my modiste shop.”
He leaned closer, filling her head with his intoxicating scent. “Giving you the box means I lose the wager. If I keep it in my possession until midnight tomorrow, my brother must pay me a hundred pounds.”
“A hundred pounds?” She almost choked on the words. Theodore Chance had caused her untold misery because of a stupid bet?
The hackney cab drew up beside them. Mr Chance opened the door and offered his hand. “Come to Fortune’s Den after midnight tomorrow, and you may reclaim your prized possession.”
Tomorrow was a day too late.
She needed the secret notes tonight.
Keen to leave and put her plan in motion, Eleanor ignored his proffered hand and climbed into the vehicle. “New Bridge Street,” she said to the jarvey before facing Theodore Chance. “Thank you for the key. It makes entry into London’s most dangerous gaming hell a little less impossible.”
He glanced at her lips and smiled. “Approach from the east. Have the hackney park on the corner of Houndsditch. Aaron will be in his study until the lights at The Burnished Jade have dimmed.”
Suspicion flared.
Why had he decided to be helpful?
“I must be better at kissing than I thought,” she said, praying he did not return home until the early hours. Encountering Theodore Chance in his bedchamber would be any woman’s fantasy, but she could not afford any mishaps tonight. “Had I known that was the price for your benevolence, I would have tried harder.”
He laughed, giving her a glimpse of the exuberant man she used to admire. “You could not have done more to please me,” he said.
Annoyed that his praise should cause a soft fluttering in her chest, she huffed. “Good night, sir. I shall try not to wake you when I come for my box.”
“Have no fear. How could I sleep with the prospect of you sneaking into my bedchamber?” He moved to close the hackney cab door. “Until tomorrow, Miss Darrow. I shall await your arrival with bated breath.”
Chapter Three
Theo left the Olympic Theatre twenty minutes after Miss Darrow and returned to Fortune’s Den. The club was still open. Gas lamps cast a warm glow over the mahogany card tables, where fifteen elegant men sat engrossed in games of chance. Cigar smoke hung spectre-like in the air, obscuring the men’s vision and blinding them to the risks.
Their avarice knew no bounds. The thrill of outwitting one’s rival proved more intoxicating than the pursuit of wealth. Losers left with mounting debts and no semblance of pride. Winners paid homage to the green baize until their luck ran out. Some players wore masks of concentration, while others had the same conflicting look Theo had seen in Miss Darrow’s magnificent eyes—a curious blend of determination and fear.
What was the lady’s secret?
He knew one thing with absolute certainty. Miss Darrow would not wait until tomorrow to enter Fortune’s Den. The flash of fire in her eyes said she wanted her sewing boxtonight. All he had to do was warn Aaron, dim the lights, climb into bed and await her arrival.
