Page 28 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
So did reaching spinsterhood although she kept that thought to herself.
“Is the roulette table rigged?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“As I mentioned, I spent two hours handing over my money. You come to the table, set down a wager, and win. Seems a bit fishy considering your association to this place.”
They entered the ballroom with its mirrored walls. Minerva had always thought it a waste of space as few people were here, and it brought in no money. She had inherited her father’s business acumen and tendency to analyze every situation—every gentleman who showed interest. She took nothing at face value, most of all flirtation and flattery.
“I’m not certain how they would rig it. Besides, it makes no sense to deliberately let me win when this place made my father’s fortune.”
“Sentimentality perhaps?”
“No. Drake Darling has a head for business that wouldn’t allow that. It’s the reason my father sold the place to him. He trusted him with it, knew he would keep it profitable. Besides, the staff knows me well enough to know I’d be none too happy if they arranged it for me to win. I like a good challenge. There’s no point in playing if things are rigged in your favor.”
Having said that, it occurred to her that perhaps that was why she’d decided to forgo another Season. With her dowry, the chances of finding a husband were rigged in her favor. But it wasn’t a husband she wanted. It was a man who loved her.
“You were simply so confident with your play,” he said. “No hesitation at all in placing your wager.”
“At the roulette wheel, I go with my instincts, don’t give any thought as to where I place my bet. It’s all chance.”
“You stand toe to toe with the men then, not mewling or asking advice.”
“I was practically raised within these walls. It would be quite insincere to pretend that I neither know how the games work or my own mind. I believe a person should take responsibility for his or her actions. I would have accepted a loss with grace.”
“But it’s always more fun to have the win. Ah, a waltz is starting up. Shall we?”
She’d barely given a nod before he swept her onto the dance area, holding her scandalously close, daring her with his intense gaze to object. They were in a place of vice and sin. She wasn’t going to be a hypocrite about it. Besides, she liked being this close to him, taking in his sandalwood fragrance mingling with the aroma of scotch.
“I’ve never noticed you at the card tables, Your Grace.”
“Cards are too much work. You have to think incessantly hard, constantly trying to outfox the other fellows. I like roulette because it’s a simple game that gives me the freedom to focus on moreinterestingthings.”
His attention never strayed from her, and she was tempted to believe he found her interesting. “Like Lady Hyacinth?”
“No. Like you.”
MISS Minerva Dodger had been on the periphery of Ashe’s world for some time now, but not until Lady Hyacinth had referred to her as a spinster did he realize how long she might have been there. She saw herself as seasoned, and a seasoned woman with no prospects for marriage might very likely take it upon herself to visit the Nightingale.
If he asked her outright, she’d deny it. He was fairly certain of that. He was also quite certain that shewasLady V.
The ballroom here was not as well lit as Lady Greyling’s salon, and the flickering flames in the chandeliers highlighted Miss Dodger’s hair in a way that made it appear very similar to Lady V’s. With her in his arms, he was able to get a better sense of her figure. Although, damn, he wished for those trousers she’d alluded to at the roulette table. Then there would be no doubt at all. Although the doubt he now experienced was miniscule. He was once again hit with the fragrance of verbena.
He wondered if there was a chance in hell that she would return to the Nightingale, that she would allow someone else to escort her to a bedchamber—
He tensed with the thought, had to school his body not to react and crush her to him. If another man touched her, he might commit murder. He didn’t know if he’d ever met a woman as bold, strong, sure of her own mind. She did not back down. He would have liked to watch her taking a turn in the boxing ring.
“You could have handled yourself downstairs, couldn’t you?” he asked.
“In the boxing ring? Quite. My father was not one to allow me to grow up in innocence. He taught me early on how to handle myself. How to land a blow so it would be most effective. He gave me leave to practice on my brothers. I never had to deal with them teasing me as some brothers do. They rather fear me. To this day, even.”
A woman with such talents wouldn’t fear going to the Nightingale. And Lady V had indicated that she’d prefer to kill him rather than have her father do it if Ashe misbehaved. She was a warrior, not one to be taken lightly, to be overlooked, but it seemed a great many men had. He had.
“I’m imagining a photograph of you standing within the ropes, fists raised, skin glistening with sweat.”
“I would not be so crass as to sweat. I might be lightly coated in dew.”
“Even better. Hair askew, strands feathering out. Is there red in your hair?”
