A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) (11 page)

“It’s nearly dark.”

Anne peered over his shoulder then met his angry stare. “It appears so. Lucky for me I don’t have to work this evening.”

Alex threw his head back toward the ceiling. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he prayed for divine intervention just then. “I thought I would try my hand at fighting to earn a bit extra.”

The lie had just fell from of his lips as easy taking a breath. He cringed as her shoulders dropped.

Anne narrowed her eyes at him, nervously biting on the edge of her lip. “Well, you proved that you’re not a proficient prizefighter. You scared me returning in the state you did.” And just as the wind picks up, she was full of gusto again, wagging her finger in his face. “So that leaves me. Now, if you would move aside, I have to be on my way.”

You scared me.

If he wasn’t so stunned, he might have caught her as she swooped under his arm and slipped out the door. “Where?” he yelled after her as she rushed down the stairs.

“The casino. The nice one by the hospital. I’m going to try my hand at cards.”

Bloody. Perfect.

“That’s a gentleman’s club.” Alex ducked back into their attic room for his worn coat, then rushed after her. “You’re not going alone,” he said, taking two stairs at a time to catch up.

“Of course I am.” Anne floated into the busy dining room, taking care to evade his reach. “I can’t have you with me, looking like that.”

Alex glanced down at his clothes, confused. He brushed back his hair and tugged at his coat. It would be a cold day in Hell before he allowed her outside, dressed as she was. At night. In Whitechapel, of all places. Alex sure as hell was going.

“We must make them believe we have money if we are going to be successful at the tables.”

He didn’t want to know how she knew that. Alex grabbed the sash of her dress and hauled her backward, close enough so he could whisper, “That dress isn’t for a wealthy lady.” Anne smelled of roses, even in that dress. Grace personified. He hated her for it.

“It’s a very fine dress.” Her shoulders dropped as she spoke and he knew she agreed. It was remarkable that Anne might not put up a fight for once.

“We can go back upstairs since you agree—”

“Anne,” one of the women from upstairs cried. “You’ve forgotten the most important part.”

Anne’s eyes squinted, twinkling with mischief as she sidestepped Alex’s hand once more. “What’s that, Tabitha?”

“A lady must always wear a mask.” She tied a black lacy mask over Anne’s face and spun her toward the door. “Now, off with you.”

He didn’t like not being able to see her face. He didn’t like that the mask only added to the blue dress’s luring affect. Anne was a lush invitation waiting to be taken. His stomach tumbled as she licked her lips. He didn’t like that either.

“Well,” Anne said, pushing him forward, “this is a bit better.” She brushed off his shoulders and tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. “Lady Luck awaits. Let’s go.”

Lady Luck waited for no one, spoiled runaways included, but Anne had started off before he could say so.

*

The inner sanctum of men the world over, their precious casinos, were as to be expected. Men were nothing if not predictable creatures.

“Have you thought this through?” Alex asked, leaning close to Minnie.

She smiled at the portly man seated on a burgundy chair, a snifter of brandy in his hand and a cigar in his mouth. Typical.

The scratchy lace cloaking her face made it difficult to see as she twisted around to gaze up at Alex. She was still surprised he was so tall. “I’m here to cover our rent. That should suffice for a plan as well as any.”

He shook his head and crooked his finger, beckoning her closer. She reached up onto her tiptoes, inhaling his soap—oranges and cedar. A small detail she had not noticed until then. One that certainly shouldn’t matter, either.

“Who’ll let me at a table when my hands look like this?”

Minnie dropped to her feet and noticed that she had caught the attention of a few gentlemen. She smiled, then ran her gloved finger down the profile of Alex’s face. “Don’t shy away. You make me look like a terrible paramour.” She bumped his strong chin with her finger.

“Paramour?” He stepped around to face her. “What sort of finishing school did you attend?”

She couldn’t help but smile at that.

“These hands,” he said, lifting them up as if she needed another reminder, “mean I’m a marked thug.”

“You’re forgetting the current state of your face. You don’t appear like much of a threat.”

“Christ, Anne.” He bit down on his split lip until it started to bleed again. He swiped away the crimson bead with the back of his hand. His eyes softened toward her as she waited for him to finish whatever he was going to say. That was apology enough, the way he gazed down at her. She didn’t want to think about last night, or the three lonely days of his absence. She didn’t want to buckle under such a look and kiss him either. Though kissing him wouldn’t be wholly awful.

“Pick your game, Mr. Marwick. If we keep you out too late, you may turn into a pumpkin.”

His lips brushed her hair as he led them further back into the casino. “If I’m the pumpkin,” he said in a distracting whisper, “then who’s your fairy godmother?” He didn’t allow her to answer. “Anyhow, it’s best if we stay late. We’ll have better odds.”

She pulled at his coat to halt his forward march. It was a much finer wool than she was used to him wearing. His laughter pulled her from her thoughts and she realized, quite embarrassingly, that she had been petting his chest.

Minnie shook her head. “Odds? You’re saying you know something of—” She waved her hand around the casino, “—this?”

“Yes,” he said, mimicking her high pitch and flailing, “I know of
this
.”

She pushed him behind a marble column to avoid further attention. The less she had to pretend being Alex’s paramour, the better. It was hard enough pretending to be his wife. “There’s no need to be so prickly when I was perfectly willing to come here on my own.”

“That would have been a terrible idea, and you know it.” He stared at her as if he expected her to nod and agree.

Over her dead body. “I wasn’t always at finishing school. I grew up among a lot of uninhibited men, traveled through a lot of dangerous places.”

He bent forward, his nose brushing her forehead as she played at straightening his collar. “Are you planning to tell me your life story now, Anne?”

She stared at the hollow of his throat, wondering what it would feel like to settle her lips there. It looked like the perfect fit. Her fingers curled tight, cinching the fabric as she drew herself away from such a wicked thought. This was Alex, after all. He was like a rat—give him one crumb and he would beg for more until she found herself back on the doorstop of that awful school. “No,” she finally replied.

“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to being rid of you.”

His words were too soft, spoken too warmly for her to be upset. But they bothered her still for the lie they were.

Her head snapped up to that soft look in his eyes again. Her foot inched forward, ready to stomp on his and break the moment between them, but she thought better of it and sighed instead. “It’s time to show me what you know, Alex.”

*

Alex’s body ached, his mind was fuzzy, and that terrible darkness had wrapped itself around his soul. Alex didn’t want to be chasing after Anne again, but he owed it to her.

When he reported to the dock for work, he had been reminded that he no longer held his position as coal backer. Anne was smart enough to know before he even had to admit it. He knew she thought ill of him. The way she danced around him now, taking jabs in their verbal match, was proof enough. He deserved it. Every last insult. The fact that Anne and her belongings remained when he returned that afternoon was surprise enough. He would have understood if she had left. But she hadn’t. And that was the confusing bit.

Why should Alex search for his identity when it was clear he was broken? It seemed that whoever his father was, the measures taken to keep him a secret were more than justified.

Anne was jovial, pulling him along through the illegal casino as though he were no better than a leashed pet. He felt about as jolly as a rabid dog, so that was appropriate enough. He obtained his playing chips and followed her to the tables, steering her away from dice and billiards. It had been a few months, but they would have more luck if he could sit at a poker table.

“Wouldn’t you prefer
vingt-et-un
?”

“Have some faith,” he said out of the side of his mouth, nodding at the nearly full table of gentlemen before taking a seat.

He threw in a chip, noting the appraising eyes of the other players. Anne tapped her fingers on her teeth as she waited and peered down at the cards being dealt. Her tell would be no help to them if she expected this to be a profitable night. He curled his hand around her arm, sucking in a breath as they touched, and tugged. “Have a seat,” he whispered into her ear. He sucked in another pained breath as she fell into his lap.

Anne played the part of paramour too well. It left a sour taste in his mouth, watching the others eye her, judging her for how she dressed and acted. She thought nothing of her farce. But Alex did. She deserved more.

He needed to confront her soon about her society connections. He had waited too long as it was. She belonged with her family, somewhere safe, gentler. Not sitting in the lap of a thug, playing at a table where the man opposite held a pistol out of view.

The others called, so Alex threw in another chip. Anne wiggled in his lap.

“Stay still,” he snapped into her ear. Alex didn’t appreciate the weight of her against him, the touch of her body against his, the way she still smelled of roses when the rest of the city was rotting around her.

Over the next two hours, Alex studied the table of players and learned their tics. He also eyed the deck, counting in his head, something he had always been able to do, and though he lost a few times, he had won more than their rent for the week. The more time they spent there, the more crowded the casino became. The noise doubled and all Alex wanted to do was return back to his quiet room, crawl onto the floor, and stay there.

The man opposite was growing aggravated by their lucky streak. Anne was charming, annoyingly so, with the rest of the gentlemen, and that only added to the tension rippling through Alex. Her fingers had been playing behind his ear for some time, soothing circles that he resented. There was no place for Anne in his life. He could hurt her. More than anything, he didn’t deserve her. She was a spoiled rich girl playing pretend. She was gambling her young life away. And for what? For a foolish dream? She was a terrible ballerina. A terrible liar as well.

A beautiful liar.

“Stop,” he grumbled. Her nails dug into his neck, tightening. “Stop,” he said again. He tried to focus on the cards but it was impossible with her so near.

She cupped his face and dragged it down to hers. Her hands circled his mouth. “My dress,” she whispered against his lips.

The world bowed, then imploded. It was the closest he had ever been to a woman’s mouth. There had been the girl the brotherhood forced onto him when he was sixteen back in Liverpool, but he was a boy then and they hadn’t exactly kissed. He hated being touched. Even then.

The metallic click of a pistol hammer focused her words. She had no intention of kissing Alex. Not when they were about to be shot.

“Now,” she hissed urgently.

His mind stumbled, sputtering, until he caught up and matched Anne’s quick movements. She kicked her legs out and leaned back into his arms. His fingers dipped below the ridiculously low neckline of her dress and secured the pistol she had hidden there. The metal was searing from her body heat.

Alex didn’t hesitate. He fired a shot to the right of the man’s head into the wall as a warning before all hell broke loose. The other men at the table wrestled the gun out of the surly looking man’s hand before he could fire back. Anne attempted to untangle herself from Alex to gather up their chips.

Alex glared at her. “I think your fun is done for the evening, darling.”