Page 84 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
She smiled. “I wouldn’t know if it was or not. I haven’t anything to compare it to, but I adore the joviality here. Do you come here often?”
“For a pint every now and then.”
She wanted to reach out and brush his hair off his brow, hold his hand, hug him. He looked as though he carried no burdens whatsoever. Strong, handsome, sure of himself, the world, and his place in it.
He had told her everything about the meeting, the wonder of them giving or selling him their portions of the club. She was amazed at his humility, how touched he was by their generosity. He took nothing for granted.
“Will you call the club something different? I think you should. It will be yours.”
“I was thinking of calling it the Twin Dragons,” he said.
“I like it, but why twin dragons?”
“Because I want it to represent the old and the new. Presently, you must be part of the peerage to even qualify for membership.” He rolled his shoulders into a shrug. “Well, I did make an exception for an American, because I can see what’s coming. The peerage is not what it once was. There is a new elite forming. Those without titles but with wealth that most can’t even imagine. But we still have a class system, with which I am extremely familiar because I was raised within it. The family who took me in—he is a duke. She is a duchess.”
Phee widened her eyes. “You were raised by nobility?”
She’d always thought he had a polished edge to him, but he also possessed an undercurrent of something rough and dangerous. It was odd that she found herself attracted to both aspects of him.
“I was. They treated me as one of their own, but beyond their walls, their sons are lords, their daughter a lady, and I am Mr. Darling. In spite of the fact that they never made me feel less, Society never accepted me as being equal. I don’t resent it. I’m not angry about it. But I understand it. All these newly wealthy gentlemen are standing with their noses pressed to the window wanting in ... and I want to give them the way in.”
“By taking their money at cards.”
“In a game of chance everyone is equal. Fate cares not one whit about rank, title, or class.”
“What of women?”
He stared at her, clearly confused. “I’m only interested in managing gambling, not prostitution.”
She gave a caustic laugh. “I’m not certain whether to be irritated or unsurprised to discover that’s the direction your mind would take. I was referring to women gambling in your establishment. Surely they stand with their noses pressed to windows. Why not let them in as well?”
“Radical notion. I’ll consider it as I’m renovating.”
“You’re going to renovate it?”
He nodded. “I want to modernize it a bit. I want to give it its own character. It’s my dream, and I want it to reflect my values, my beliefs.”
She could see that he would make it someplace special.
“I’m glad you shared your plans. It’s a wonderful dream, owning your own place, making a difference to so many. It’s much grander than mine.”
“All dreams are equal. They can’t be measured or weighed against someone else’s. They’re too personal. Their value rests with the person who owns the dream.”
“You very much believe in things and people being equal don’t you?”
“Yes, I very much do. At least for others.” A shadow crossed over his features. Reaching out, he took her hand and stroked his thumb over her knuckles. She’d worn her kidskin clothes but removed them to eat. She was glad they were tucked away and that his skin was touching hers. “Sometimes I envy you not remembering your past.”
“You mustn’t let memories of your father ruin this night or taint your accomplishments. The original owners of the club entrusted you with something they built from nothing. They have faith in your abilities. I do as well.”
He slammed his eyes closed, shook his head. “Phee—”
Her heart lurched. “Don’t ruin it.”
He opened his eyes, and she squeezed his hand. “Don’t tell me that when my memories return I won’t like you. Because I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it. I know what I feel for you now at this very moment, and I know deep within my heart, to the depths of my soul that I will never care for anyone as I care for you. Let us have tonight to celebrate the realization of your dream. Dance with me.”
A band of three was playing fiddles. People were swirling around in another corner of the tavern.
“It’s not a waltz,” he said.
