One Good Earl Deserves a Lover
Page 105
Twenty-three.
The entire table cheered; Lowe had risked a fortune, and won nearly nine thousand pounds.
Lowe, who had never won a single thing in his life.
“What did I say?” the young man crowed. “I’m lucky tonight, lads!”
There’s no such thing as luck.
Something was off.
He pushed through the crowd, each person with whom he came into contact more and more elated with the breathlessness of winning, with the excitement of the flop of the ace, the roll of the hard six, the spin of the wheel, which seemed to be stuck on red . . . everyone ignoring him as he passed among their masses until they finally parted and he had a clear view of Temple, several yards away.
The massive partner of The Fallen Angel was not alone. At his side stood a reedy younger man in an evening suit that hung a touch too large on his shoulders. The man wore a cap pulled low over his brow, making it impossible for Cross to see his face . . . there was something familiar about the way he carried himself. Something unsettling.
It was only when the stranger turned to speak in the ear of one of Knight’s girls, passing her a little pouch, that Cross saw the glint of gold at his temple.
Spectacles.
At her temple.
Philippa.
She turned to him, as though he’d said her name aloud, and smiled an enormous, brilliant smile—one that made his blood pound and his heart ache. How had he ever even imagined that she was a man? She looked scandalous and beautiful and absolutely devastating, and he was suddenly quite desperate to get to her. To touch her. To kiss her. To keep her safe.
Not that it made him want to murder her any less.
He reached for her instinctively, and Temple stepped in, placing enormous hands on Cross’s chest, and said, “Not now. If you touch her, everyone will guess.”
Cross didn’t care. He wanted her safe. But Temple was as strong as he was right. After a long moment, he said, “I shall want my time in the ring with you for this.”
Temple smirked. “With pleasure. But if she pulls it off, my guess is that you’ll be thanking me for it.”
Cross’s brows snapped together. “Pulls it off?” He turned to Pippa. “What have you done?”
She smiled as though they were at tea. Or Ascot. Or walking in the park. Entirely calm, utterly sure of herself and her actions. “Don’t you see, you silly man? I’m saving you.”
The cheers from the gamers around them were impossible to ignore at that point, the thrill of winning was deafening. He didn’t need to look to see what she’d done. “You fixed the tables?”
“Nonsense.” Pippa grinned. “With what I know of Digger Knight, I would wager everything you have that these tables were already fixed. I unfixed them.”
She was mad. And he loved it. His brows rose. “Everything I have?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t very much, myself.”
She was wrong, of course. She had more than she knew. More than he’d dreamed.
And if she asked, he’d let her wager with everything he owned.
God, he wanted her.
He looked around them, registering the flushed, excited faces of the gamers nearby, not one of them interested in the trio standing to the side. No one who was not playing was worth the attention. Not when so many were winning so much.
She was running the tables at one of the most successful casinos in London. He turned back to her. “How did you . . .”
She smiled. “You taught me about weighted dice, Jasper.”
He warmed at the name. “I didn’t teach you about stacked decks.”
She feigned insult. “My lord, your lack of confidence in my intelligence wounds me. You think I could not work out the workings of deck stacking myself?”
He ignored the jest. Knight would kill them when he discovered this. “And roulette?”
She smiled. “Magnets have remarkable uses.”
She was too smart for her own good. He turned to Temple. “You allowed this?”
Temple shrugged one shoulder. “The lady can be very . . . determined.”
Lord knew that was true.
“She knew what she wanted,” the enormous man added, “and we all wanted it as well.”
“Temple was very gracious. As was Miss Tasser,” Pippa added.
Cross’s mind was spinning. Miss Tasser. Sally had helped.
Do not doubt for one moment that what’s done was done for her. Not you.
This is what Sally had meant. The run on Knight’s, not Cross’s, engagement.
Pippa’s insane plan.
But they hadn’t considered everything. They hadn’t considered what would happen when she was discovered. When Knight returned to the floor and understood what they’d done.
“You have to leave here. Before Knight discovers it and everything goes wild. Before he discovers you. You’ll be destroyed, and everything I worked for will be—” He was growing panicked by the idea that she might be hurt. That Knight might react with wicked intent.
“I am not leaving.” She shook her head. “I have to see this through to the end!”
“There is no end, Pippa.” He reached for her again, desperate to touch her, and Temple stopped him once more. Cross stopped. Collected himself. “Dammit. Knight is the best in the business.”
“Not better than you,” she said.
“Yes, better than me,” he corrected her. “There’s nothing he cares about more than this place. Than its success. And all I care about—” He trailed off, knowing he shouldn’t say it. Knowing he couldn’t stop himself. “All I care about is you, you madwoman.”
The entire table cheered; Lowe had risked a fortune, and won nearly nine thousand pounds.
Lowe, who had never won a single thing in his life.
“What did I say?” the young man crowed. “I’m lucky tonight, lads!”
There’s no such thing as luck.
Something was off.
He pushed through the crowd, each person with whom he came into contact more and more elated with the breathlessness of winning, with the excitement of the flop of the ace, the roll of the hard six, the spin of the wheel, which seemed to be stuck on red . . . everyone ignoring him as he passed among their masses until they finally parted and he had a clear view of Temple, several yards away.
The massive partner of The Fallen Angel was not alone. At his side stood a reedy younger man in an evening suit that hung a touch too large on his shoulders. The man wore a cap pulled low over his brow, making it impossible for Cross to see his face . . . there was something familiar about the way he carried himself. Something unsettling.
It was only when the stranger turned to speak in the ear of one of Knight’s girls, passing her a little pouch, that Cross saw the glint of gold at his temple.
Spectacles.
At her temple.
Philippa.
She turned to him, as though he’d said her name aloud, and smiled an enormous, brilliant smile—one that made his blood pound and his heart ache. How had he ever even imagined that she was a man? She looked scandalous and beautiful and absolutely devastating, and he was suddenly quite desperate to get to her. To touch her. To kiss her. To keep her safe.
Not that it made him want to murder her any less.
He reached for her instinctively, and Temple stepped in, placing enormous hands on Cross’s chest, and said, “Not now. If you touch her, everyone will guess.”
Cross didn’t care. He wanted her safe. But Temple was as strong as he was right. After a long moment, he said, “I shall want my time in the ring with you for this.”
Temple smirked. “With pleasure. But if she pulls it off, my guess is that you’ll be thanking me for it.”
Cross’s brows snapped together. “Pulls it off?” He turned to Pippa. “What have you done?”
She smiled as though they were at tea. Or Ascot. Or walking in the park. Entirely calm, utterly sure of herself and her actions. “Don’t you see, you silly man? I’m saving you.”
The cheers from the gamers around them were impossible to ignore at that point, the thrill of winning was deafening. He didn’t need to look to see what she’d done. “You fixed the tables?”
“Nonsense.” Pippa grinned. “With what I know of Digger Knight, I would wager everything you have that these tables were already fixed. I unfixed them.”
She was mad. And he loved it. His brows rose. “Everything I have?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t very much, myself.”
She was wrong, of course. She had more than she knew. More than he’d dreamed.
And if she asked, he’d let her wager with everything he owned.
God, he wanted her.
He looked around them, registering the flushed, excited faces of the gamers nearby, not one of them interested in the trio standing to the side. No one who was not playing was worth the attention. Not when so many were winning so much.
She was running the tables at one of the most successful casinos in London. He turned back to her. “How did you . . .”
She smiled. “You taught me about weighted dice, Jasper.”
He warmed at the name. “I didn’t teach you about stacked decks.”
She feigned insult. “My lord, your lack of confidence in my intelligence wounds me. You think I could not work out the workings of deck stacking myself?”
He ignored the jest. Knight would kill them when he discovered this. “And roulette?”
She smiled. “Magnets have remarkable uses.”
She was too smart for her own good. He turned to Temple. “You allowed this?”
Temple shrugged one shoulder. “The lady can be very . . . determined.”
Lord knew that was true.
“She knew what she wanted,” the enormous man added, “and we all wanted it as well.”
“Temple was very gracious. As was Miss Tasser,” Pippa added.
Cross’s mind was spinning. Miss Tasser. Sally had helped.
Do not doubt for one moment that what’s done was done for her. Not you.
This is what Sally had meant. The run on Knight’s, not Cross’s, engagement.
Pippa’s insane plan.
But they hadn’t considered everything. They hadn’t considered what would happen when she was discovered. When Knight returned to the floor and understood what they’d done.
“You have to leave here. Before Knight discovers it and everything goes wild. Before he discovers you. You’ll be destroyed, and everything I worked for will be—” He was growing panicked by the idea that she might be hurt. That Knight might react with wicked intent.
“I am not leaving.” She shook her head. “I have to see this through to the end!”
“There is no end, Pippa.” He reached for her again, desperate to touch her, and Temple stopped him once more. Cross stopped. Collected himself. “Dammit. Knight is the best in the business.”
“Not better than you,” she said.
“Yes, better than me,” he corrected her. “There’s nothing he cares about more than this place. Than its success. And all I care about—” He trailed off, knowing he shouldn’t say it. Knowing he couldn’t stop himself. “All I care about is you, you madwoman.”
