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He stepped forward. ‘Your vowel is good with us, Lord James,’ he said smoothly.

Mrs Lamb shot him a startled glance. ‘Oh, but—’

‘My dear Mrs Lamb, you have been on your feet for hours, not to mention the way these young fellows were stepping on your toes not so very long ago.’ He gave her a glare when she didn’t move. ‘Off you go. Take a well-earned break. I will look after things here.’

A couple of the fellows gave a groan and for a moment he thought Lord James would argue, but Damien smiled at him and glanced around at the other players. ‘Place your bets, please, ladies and gentlemen.’

After a brief hesitation, Mrs Lamb left the table and glided away.

A few moments later Pip arrived at his side. ‘All well?’ he askedsotto voce.

‘Take over for me,’ Damian said and went off in search of the blasted woman.

He found her in the retiring room pouring herself a cup of tea. They were alone.

The taste of the anger at the back of his throat was as familiar as his face in the mirror. Anger at those who had made his family flee their home. Anger at his father for playing the gentleman when he could not put food on the table. Anger at what circumstances had forced him to become.

Damn it. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

‘Why the devil were you stopping him from writing his vowel? What next? Will you be letting them win?’

She glared up at him. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned to a straight line.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said stiffly.

‘Are you deliberately trying to ruin me?’

‘Are you trying to ruin that young man? He had run out of money.’

‘Lord James is a wealthy young man. What he loses here tonight he will make back tomorrow on the ’Change. He would not be here if he could not afford the stakes.’

‘Oh. I see. I had no idea, but—’

‘Exactly. You had no idea. But you decided anyway.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The evening is about done. I have no further need for you. You may return to your chambers.’

‘As you wish.’ She put down the teacup.

She looked hurt and he felt as if he had kicked a puppy or drowned a kitten. Dammit it, she was the one at fault.

He followed her out and down the hall, making sure she made it safely to her part of the house. He didn’t want some wag from his party attempting to see behind the mask, or worse. By this hour they were all half-seas over.

He and Pip always made sure the girls were not importuned by their guests, male or female. It was simply good sense and had nothing to do with feeling protective towards this woman.

Pamela was still seething about her abrupt dismissal the day before when she entered her kitchen. She halted at the sight of the man seated at her kitchen table among the dirty dishes which she had not had time to deal with the previous evening, because she had done him a favour.

How dare he? He needn’t think she was going to cook him a special breakfast today.

‘Good morning, My Lord,’ she said stiffly. ‘Breakfast will be available in the servants’ hall at seven.’

‘I am leaving for London in a few minutes so no need to prepare anything.’

He gave her a shamefaced glance. A rather boyishly endearing look, if she was to be honest. Her stomach gave a strange little pulse. Clearly, she needed to give that part of her a good talking to. He was definitely in her bad books.

‘I came to apologise for my outburst last night.’

Well, blast the man. Here she was happily being annoyed with him and now he had completed melted her defences.

‘Apology accepted.’ She worked her way around him to the stove and picked up the coal scuttle.