Page 18 of The Danger of Desire
Except that then she’d be just like Papa and Reynold, risking her future on the turn of a card. That was no way to live. Bad enough that she had to do it to find the unknown card cheat; she couldn’t continue forever. Someone was bound to catch her.
Like the pesky Lord Knightford—who even as he dealt the cards was watching her with that brooding gaze that made her stomach quiver.
In alarm.Onlyalarm.
Catching the attention of the taproom maid named Mary, Lord Knightford ordered a bottle of port and a glass. With a wink and a flirtatious smile, Mary flounced off to the bar to fetch it.
After a long moment of watching the swing of Mary’s derriere with obvious approval, Lord Knightford picked up his cards.
For some reason, his private little smirk annoyed Delia. “From what I hear, my lord, you sample enough of the pleasures of Covent Garden for the both of us.”
He eyed her over his hand, a hint of calculation in his expression. “You’re telling me that a randy young lad like you, here every night in the stews, doesn’t ever take a tumble with a whore?”
A chill swept down her spine. What had she been thinking, to bait him? She hunched over her cards and prayed she wasn’t blushing. “I ain’t throwing my money away on a whore when I need it for keeping a roof over my head and getting my supper.”
“From what I hear,” Lord Knightford said as he arranged his cards, “you take in more than enough to cover that. So, perhaps you have another reason. Perhaps you simply don’t like women.”
The room fell silent, and the very air froze. Even the smoke from Lord Knightford’s cigar seemed to pause in its writhing. Was he accusing Jack of what she thought he was?
She’d learned all sorts of unusual things during her month in the stews, including what it meant when a man preferred to have other men as bed partners.If the fellows in the gaming hell thought she was a molly, they would turn on her, and that would be the end of her career as Jack Jones.
“I like women well enough,” she muttered. Just then, Mary returned with his lordship’s port, so as she passed, Delia slapped her on the derriere the way she’d seen some of the men do. “But why should I spend my winnings on whores when there’s good loving to be found for free?”
As the tension broke and the men laughed, the maid scowled at her. “Mr. Jones!” She tried to mop up some of the port that had spilled out of the glass onto her tray. “And here I thought you was a gentleman!”
“Never claimed to be that, Mary,” Delia said gruffly. She laid a coin on the tray. “But here’s for the spilled wine, if it’ll make you quit your complaining.”
Taking the coin with a sniff, Mary waltzed over to his lordship. “Well, therearegentlemen here who know how to treat a lady right.” She set the bottle and the glass down in front of Lord Knightford, then bent low enough that he could probably see clear to her navel inside that loose blouse. “Can I get you somethin’ else, m’lord?” she cooed.
He smiled at Mary. “Not at present, luv,” he said, and tucked a sovereign in her cleavage. “But I’ll be sure to take advantage of the offer another time.”
Delia couldn’t resist a snort, which drew his attention back to her. The gleam in his eye gave her pause. Was he just having a bit of fun at Jack Jones’s expense? Or trying to annoy Miss Delia Trevor? Because if it was the latter, he was succeeding.
“Something wrong, Jones?” the marquess asked lazily as he sipped his port.
“Nothing that getting on with this game wouldn’t take care of.”
“You really are a surly sort. It’s a wonder anyone ever agrees to play with you.”
Ignoring that remark, Delia laid down her card, and the nextpartiewas on. For a while, he was blessedly quiet except for his declarations. Since it was her turn to be Eldest, she had the advantage and she used it ruthlessly. The cloud spreading over his brow showed that he knew she was trouncing him. Again.
But she couldn’t glory in it for fretting over whether he’d guessed who she was. Even winning the secondpartieand having her score leap ahead of his by twenty-two points couldn’t banish her worry.
Grimly, she gathered up the cards and began to deal.
“I see you’re left-handed,” he said.
She paused half a second before forcing herself to go on. The fact that he was bringing up the subject they’d discussed at the breakfast earlier didn’t have to mean anything. Perhaps the conversation had merely stuck in his head, so that now he noticed left-handers everywhere.
And if wishes were horses, beggars would win the Derby. “Actually, I’m ambidextrous. Use both hands the same.” Which was a lie, but she had to tell himsomethingto get him off the track.
“Ambidextrous, is it?” Lord Knightford said. “You have an awfully big vocabulary for a country lad.”
“You have an awfully big mouth for a card player. Do you ever shut up?”
The marquess chuckled. “When it suits me.”
“Could it suit you now, if you please? Because I’d like to finish this game before the morn.”
