Unwilling to take the blame for him being attacked a second time, she politely told him to mind his own business. “My troubles are my own. Might you summon a hackney? There is somewhere else I desperately need to be.”
Mr Chance obliged by whistling to the jarvey parked farther along the narrow street. He retrieved an ornate iron key from his coat pocket, captured her gloved hand and placed it in her palm.
“Don’t lose heart.” His teasing grin made her wonder if the move was a strategic part of his game. “I agreed to oblige you if you made the kiss look authentic. This is your reward, Miss Darrow.” He curled her fingers over the key but did not release her hand.
Something passed between them.
Something other than frustration and annoyance.
Something that made her heart race wildly.
“I presume it’s the key to your club, sir, though I don’t see why you cannot bring the box to my modiste shop.”
He leaned closer, filling her head with his intoxicating scent. “Giving you the box means I lose the wager. If I keep it in my possession until midnight tomorrow, my brother must pay me a hundred pounds.”
“A hundred pounds?” She almost choked on the words. Theodore Chance had caused her untold misery because of a stupid bet?
The hackney cab drew up beside them. Mr Chance opened the door and offered his hand. “Come to Fortune’s Den after midnight tomorrow, and you may reclaim your prized possession.”
Tomorrow was a day too late.
She needed the secret notes tonight.
Keen to leave and put her plan in motion, Eleanor ignored his proffered hand and climbed into the vehicle. “New Bridge Street,” she said to the jarvey before facing Theodore Chance. “Thank you for the key. It makes entry into London’s most dangerous gaming hell a little less impossible.”
He glanced at her lips and smiled. “Approach from the east. Have the hackney park on the corner of Houndsditch. Aaron will be in his study until the lights at The Burnished Jade have dimmed.”
Suspicion flared.
Why had he decided to be helpful?
“I must be better at kissing than I thought,” she said, praying he did not return home until the early hours. Encountering Theodore Chance in his bedchamber would be any woman’s fantasy, but she could not afford any mishaps tonight. “Had I known that was the price for your benevolence, I would have tried harder.”
He laughed, giving her a glimpse of the exuberant man she used to admire. “You could not have done more to please me,” he said.
Annoyed that his praise should cause a soft fluttering in her chest, she huffed. “Good night, sir. I shall try not to wake you when I come for my box.”
“Have no fear. How could I sleep with the prospect of you sneaking into my bedchamber?” He moved to close the hackney cab door. “Until tomorrow, Miss Darrow. I shall await your arrival with bated breath.”
Chapter Three
Theo left the Olympic Theatre twenty minutes after Miss Darrow and returned to Fortune’s Den. The club was still open. Gas lamps cast a warm glow over the mahogany card tables, where fifteen elegant men sat engrossed in games of chance. Cigar smoke hung spectre-like in the air, obscuring the men’s vision and blinding them to the risks.
Their avarice knew no bounds. The thrill of outwitting one’s rival proved more intoxicating than the pursuit of wealth. Losers left with mounting debts and no semblance of pride. Winners paid homage to the green baize until their luck ran out. Some players wore masks of concentration, while others had the same conflicting look Theo had seen in Miss Darrow’s magnificent eyes—a curious blend of determination and fear.
What was the lady’s secret?
He knew one thing with absolute certainty. Miss Darrow would not wait until tomorrow to enter Fortune’s Den. The flash of fire in her eyes said she wanted her sewing box tonight. All he had to do was warn Aaron, dim the lights, climb into bed and await her arrival.
He saw Aaron speaking to the glum Lord Deacon. The peer stood on shaky legs and almost swooned when Aaron gestured to the study across the hall—a formidable place where men signed away their souls to settle their debts.
Aaron caught Theo’s gaze and gave a nod of recognition. He warned Lord Deacon not to move a muscle before crossing the room. “Back so soon? I trust the evening went as planned.”
“Wrotham arrived with Mrs Dunwoody. Wiping the smug grin off his face brought immense satisfaction.” Not wishing to dredge up the ghosts of the past, Theo made no mention of Lucille Bowman. “I assume Deacon’s debts are mounting and you’re about to give him an ultimatum.”
Aaron glanced at the lord and muttered a curse. “Until Deacon’s affairs are in order, he’s barred from the club. Had I not intervened tonight, the fool would have staked his Mayfair abode on one game of whist.”
A sudden cheer at the Hazard table stole their attention. The Marquess of Rothley—a devilish gentleman in his own right—wrapped his arms around the mountain of coins and vowels on the table and gathered it to his chest like a beloved child.
Aaron called a footman to fetch a bottle of their best Burgundy and deliver it to the marquess’ table, then faced Theo. “Watch the croupiers while I have a private word with Deacon. I’ll not have these devils accuse us of cheating.”
“Is Christian not here?”
Their brother lived with his wife in Ludgate Hill and usually remained at the club until the last patron staggered over the threshold.
“He left half an hour ago. I can manage these profligates on my own. Most deserted the tables when Rothley announced he would empty everyone’s purse.”
“No doubt the marquess needs the funds. They say he keeps a harem at the aptly named Studland Park.” If anyone needed advice on how to embrace bachelorhood, they should ask the Marquess of Rothley. “Perhaps that’s how he gained the fresh scratch on his cheek.”
Suspicion lurked in Aaron’s dark eyes. “Rothley is hiding something at Studland Park, but I doubt it’s a harem.”
Theo pulled his watch from his fob pocket and checked the time. By his estimation, he had an hour at most until his nemesis arrived. “Do you have any objection if I close the club? I’ll persuade the players they have a better chance of recouping their losses if they return tomorrow.”
Aaron narrowed his gaze. “As few men will sit down with Rothley tonight, your suggestion has merit, though the shifty look in your eyes says you have an ulterior motive.”
He gave Aaron a brief account of the night’s events, omitting the part where he had traded information for a lingering kiss and lied about being betrothed to Miss Darrow.
