Page 38 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
“That must involve an inordinate amount of work.”
“I’d do anything the man asked of me without complaint. I’m alive only because of him.”
His words stopped her in her tracks. “How so?”
“People think because my father wouldn’t marry my mother that I must have inherited his low morals. Or hers, for being bedded by a man to whom she was not wed. The only work I could find was on the docks.” He looked down on himself. “And as you can see, I’m not built for hauling cargo. I usually got let go before I got paid. I was fourteen, thinking of doing something I ought not, something that would prove I was indeed cut from the same cloth as the man who sired me, something that, if I were caught, would see me on the gallows. Mr. Trewlove heard of my plight somehow. Dunno. Maybe my mum told his mum. We lived in the same squalid area. Anyway, he offered to hire a tutor for me and told me if I could learn everything I needed to learn within a year, I’d never go hungry. He provided for my mum so we had a roof over our head and food in our bellies. Not a lot but enough. I learned everything I needed to learn. Became his secretary. I wanted to pay him back, too. Every penny that it had cost him during that year when he took a chance on me. He instructed me to use my money to help some other lad. If you owe Mick Trewlove, you pay him back by helping someone else. And here I am blathering on and on when I’m supposed to be taking you to the card room.”
“You admire him.”
“No better man as far as I’m concerned.” He ducked his head slightly as though embarrassed by his vehement support of his employer. “Card room’s just up here.”
As impressed as she was with the hotel, she was more impressed with what she’d just learned about Mick Trewlove. A man who had gained so much yet continued to reach back to pull others up after him. In comparison, the frocks no longer in style or with which she’d grown bored that she donated to charity seemed a rather paltry effort at improving the state of the world.
She followed Mr. Tittlefitz down the corridor and into a room that wasn’t nearly as well-lit as the ballroom. A smoky haze burned her eyes. There were several circular tables around which men and women sat while cards were tossed in front of them.
“Can I help you with anything else?” Mr. Tittlefitz asked.
“No, thank you. I should be able to make my way from here.” If Kip was within these walls, she’d find him and if he wasn’t, well, she wasn’t certain what she’d do then, except perhaps have the carriage brought around and see herself home. She didn’t believe he’d leave without her, but at that moment she didn’t know what to think, except to feel a measure of frustration with him for abandoning her completely for so long.
She wandered around the tables. Coins and paper currency were heaped in the center of some. Footmen hurried about, not carrying trays, but carrying bottles, continually filling glasses as they were emptied. Some men puffed on cigars while others smoked a pipe. She saw two ladies—althoughladiesmight have been a generous identifier—holding very thin cheroots between their lips. Amid harsh curses, raucous laughter filled the air, along with the thickening smoke as she journeyed farther into the bowels of lessening refinement.
Earlier, when Mick had told her about those he’d invited to his affair, she’d admired the fact that he didn’t divide people into social classifications, that he welcomed the less well-to-do as equals to the affluent. It seemed an open-minded approach, far different from the narrow one under which she’d been raised. She’d thought him progressive, but now she felt remarkably uncomfortable and out of place in these environs. She didn’t belong here. Not because these people were beneath her—they weren’t. But they were more worldly, more experienced, more daring. They took risks. The ladies especially, not caring that they remain above reproach. They had freedom while she’d never felt more confined. She needed to leave, was desperate to do so, but she couldn’t desert Kip. She had to find him, which meant moving forward, aware of the stares landing on her, the whispers. Holding her head high, she fought not to give the impression she was uncomfortable here, didn’t want anyone to take offense, to think she considered herself better.
Then she spied Kip at a corner table, looking vastly different from the stylish gentleman who had walked through the front door with her. His disheveled hair stuck up on the ends as though he’d plowed his fingers through it repeatedly. His eyes were red and held a desperation she’d never seen. He lifted his gaze from the table, caught sight of her, and relief washed over his features, giving him the appearance of a much younger man, the teasing, playful one she’d come to love. Shoving back his chair, he stood and waved her over. She couldn’t deny the gladness that swept through her at his enthusiasm for having her near.
When she was close enough, he snaked his arm around her waist, drew her against his side and whispered in her ear, “I need your pearls.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I have an incredible hand. I know no one can best me, but the blighter who is playing me has raised the stakes, well aware I no longer have the means to cover it. If I can’t match his wager, I’ll lose by default. Your pearls will ensure I don’t.”
She slapped her hand to the necklace at her throat. “These belonged to my mother and her mother before her.”
“You’re not going to lose the necklace. I just need it as a sign of good faith to cover my wager. You don’t even have to take it off. Please, Aslyn. It’s a small thing to ask, and the rewards will be beyond compare.”
She assumed the rewards would be the money piled in the center of the table. There were five other gents sitting around it, but only one was still holding cards.
“I have a plan,” he said. “I promise you will walk out of here wearing them.”
She hesitated.The best laid plans . . .
“If you love me . . .” he said, his voice low.
“You know I do.”
“Splendid.” He retook his seat, met the gaze of the man sitting opposite him, the one wearing an ill-fitting brown jacket and tapping his cards on the table. “Her pearls should cover it.”
The man opened his mouth, ran his tongue over his teeth, one of them very nearly all black. She fought not to shudder at the sight. “They real?”
“Of course they are,” Kip said. “What use would she have for fake ones?”
The man lifted his burly shoulders until they nearly touched extremely large ears that reminded her of an elephant’s. “All right, then. Since you called—”
“Actually, now that it’s settled we’re even, I’m going to raise you—her hair comb. Pearls and diamonds.”
“Kip—” she began.
He held up a hand to silence her objection. “Not to worry. I have the situation well in hand.”
