Page 38 of The Danger of Desire
But as the taproom maid leaned toward “Jones,” Delia growled, “Lay a hand on me, Mary, and I swear I’ll break it off.”
When Mary froze, Warren burst into laughter. Delia was very good at playing the grouchy Jack Jones. If he hadn’t known who she was from the beginning, he would never have guessed.
“It’s all right, Mary, leave Jones be. You don’t want such a grumbler for a companion when there are more amiable gentlemen to be had.”
With a sniff, Mary flounced off to fetch Warren’s port.
Delia glowered at him from beneath her hat. “Are we going to play or not, sir? Because there are plenty of brothels down the street where you can take your pleasure without wasting my time.”
“Sheathe your claws, Jones. I’m beginning to think you envy my prowess with women.”
“I don’t give a damn about your prowess with women, except when you try to use it to throw me off my game. Now, stop your chattering and play.”
With a chuckle, Warren played his first card, and the game was on. Delia played like an exquisite machine, always aware of the perfect strategy and always determined to implement it. He found it fascinating. He’d never met a woman so adept at cards. She understood the game far better than he.
Tonight Dickson himself brought in the port. Hmm. What had the maid said to the fellow?
Whatever it was, he didn’t appear disturbed. As he set out a glass and decanted the wine, he asked, “Anything else, my lord?”
“No. Thank you, Dickson.”
Dickson nodded and started to leave, then paused near the table. “So, Jack, where is Owen?”
She shot Warren a black look. “He’s ill.”
Bloody hell. Clearly, she had figured out that he’d attempted to force Owen into staying away.
Dickson was of course oblivious to the undercurrents. “Well, will you tell him that I’ve been asking around about that lord with the sun tattoo above his wrist? So far I haven’t heard anything or found anyone who has such a thing.”
Tattoo? Like the ones she’d claimed to have an interest in at the breakfast?
When the color drained from her face and her gaze shot to Warren in alarm, everything shifted in his brain.
He’d completely misread the situation.
This scheme of hers wasn’t about money or supporting her family at all. She wassearchingfor someone at Dickson’s.Thatwas why she kept asking questions about tattoos.Thatwas why she persisted in coming here, even when Owen wasn’t available to protect her.
Bloody hell.
But whom did she seek? And why?
A sudden chill ran through him. Had she been attacked by a man with a tattoo, perhaps at some masquerade? Good God, could she have gone through something similar to what Clarissa experienced?
Then again, if she had, she certainly didn’t act like it. Whenever he kissed her, she melted into his arms so sweetly that he—
Damn it, that didn’t matter. Whomever she was looking for and whatever the tattooed man meant to her, he intended to find out the truth. Because that was clearly the key to Delia’s secrets.
Ten
Delia tore her gaze from Warren. How should she handle this? He would surely find it odd that she’d been asking about some lord’s tattoo after she’d expressed an interest in tattoos tohim.
She needed to come up with a lie to cover her purpose. But first she needed to get rid of the pesky gaming hell owner, who was hovering about the table as if eager to talk about Owen’s quest.
“Thank you for the information, Dickson,” she said. “I’ll be sure to let Owen know.”
Dickson shoved his hands in his pockets. “He never said why he was looking for the man.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “Probably idle curiosity about some chap he met here before. I’ll pass on the message.”
