Cast in Ice (3 page)

Ice Lady
lifted a card off the top of the deck and placed it on the table.

Nick knew he was mistaken, but he saw a slight hesitation in the dealer’s movements, as if she wanted to take the card back. His curiosity was piqued. It was almost as if she knew
The Rabbit’s
decision to ask for another card had been a mistake.

Nick watched the dealer’s reaction with closer scrutiny as
The Rabbit
lifted his card, then dropped his cards face up to the table. Like before, the banker took
The Rabbit’s
stake and added it to her own, then placed the losing cards on the bottom of the pack.

With a light turn of her head,
Ice Lady
turned to Nick. He saw the deep brown of her eyes through the mask all the players were required to wear. There was nothing special about the color of her eyes, but for an instant, Nick thought he’d seen that sharp intelligence before. For one fleeting second, there was a flash of recognition, and he was sure if he watched her long enough, he’d remember where and when he’d seen those eyes before.

She tilted her head in silent encouragement to continue their play. That slight tilt of her head was another indication that she wasn’t a stranger to him.

Nick looked at his cards, then placed them face down on the table, indicating he would stand with the cards in his hand.
Ice Lady
hesitated, then placed the deck on the table, indicating that she, too, would play the cards she’d been dealt.

Nick smiled behind his mask. He wasn’t sure that he’d won, but it was likely. He had two tens.

When
Ice Lady
indicated she didn’t want another card, Nick turned his cards over.
The Rabbit
and
Lady Woodpecker
both released audible sighs, then turned their rapt attention to
Ice Lady’s
hand.

Without lifting her gaze from his, she turned over her cards. Two queens.

A smile lifted the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Well done, my lady,” he said, surprised that he truly meant it.

“Thank you, sir,” she answered as she reached for her winnings, then placed both their cards on the bottom of the deck.

But Nick wasn’t paying attention to her actions. He was struggling to recall where he’d heard that voice before. Struggling to match a face with that low, sultry voice.

And when he did, his breath caught as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. Because knowing who he was playing against changed everything.

Winnie could barely keep her eyes open. She sat in a chair against the wall in the Rummery ballroom and prayed no one was watching her. Perhaps if she could successfully escape the
ton’s
notice, she could close her eyes for a few moments and rest. She was that tired.

It had been nearly dawn before she’d returned home this morning. It had taken her that long to win enough money to warrant the risk of going to
The Dove
. And she blamed the stranger who’d forced her to draw on every skill she’d learned about gambling for the lateness of the hour.

He was a proficient gambler. And he had the devil’s own luck when it came to the hands he was dealt. But she eventually won enough that she had part of the blackmail demand. Even if it had taken her all night.

By the time she arrived home, Tilly had worn a path in the carpet, pacing from one side of the room to the other. And Winnie didn’t blame her. If Winnie had been much later, she’d have run into the kitchen staff already up when she entered through the kitchen door.

Winnie didn’t know who the masked stranger was. She’d never seen him at
The Dove
before, but he was an expert gambler. As experienced and competent as she was. There was even a time when she thought she’d be forced to come home having lost the money she’d gone with. Something that had never happened before. But at the last, her luck held and she won several hands in a row.

Winnie concentrated on what she remembered of the stranger who’d sat next to her at
The Dove
. She’d nicknamed him
Erebos
, the Greek god of darkness and shadows. Because there was something dark and dangerous about him. And that danger warned her to be wary of him.

His hands were sturdy and strong, his fingers long and narrow, and he held his cards as if they were a natural extension of his hands. His hair was so dark it almost seemed black, and appeared even darker when framing the silver-gray of the masks they wore. His shoulders were broad, and filled out the expensive cut of his finely tailored jacket to perfection.

She couldn’t see much of his face. That was the purpose of the masks. But his jaw was chiseled in sharp angles that conveyed a strength she found intriguing.

That formidable strength should have told her that he would be a worthy adversary. She should have realized he’d be a threat, and that it would take all her skill to best him. But she’d been too intrigued by his innate confidence to face the danger his self-reliance emitted.

He exuded a forceful intensity that characterized a commanding presence. She’d found nothing lacking in his demeanor. His shirt was a pristine white, and his cravat expertly tied.

There was a gold pocket watch in his waistcoat pocket that he’d pulled out in a swift, exacting move when the gentleman with the nervous twitch had asked the time. His actions were precise, as if he was in complete control of every movement he made.

There were times when she appreciated the mysterious seclusion the masks afforded the patrons of
The Dove
. But there were times, like last night, when she wished she knew the identity of the man she played against. The man who’d expertly challenged her. The man who intrigued her more than any man ever had.

Winnie let her thoughts drift away from the masked stranger and opened her eyes long enough to focus on the happenings in the ballroom. Without a doubt, no one she was likely to meet at a Society function could be nearly as powerful or captivating as the man she’d battled with last night over a deck of cards. But when her gaze turned to the groups of elegantly dressed lords and ladies enjoying their time at Lord and Lady Rummery’s ball, her heart shifted in her chest and her breath caught. A man equally as absorbing, but in a different, more dangerous way attracted her attention.

At first she thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her. The man standing across the ballroom floor talking to her father and brother looked like Nick Stillman. But it couldn’t be. This was the last place she imagined she’d see a brigadesman from Mack Wallace’s Bedford Street Brigade. There must be some mistake. The man talking with her father and Ben must simply look like Mr. Stillman.

Then he turned.

Their gazes met, then locked, and she knew she hadn’t been mistaken. The man approaching her at her father’s side was Nick Stillman.

Her heart increased its steady thrumming in her breast, beating harder and faster. An awareness she couldn’t understand took control of her thoughts. Her heart shifted inside her while her emotions tingled in fear, and…anticipation.

“Look who I found,” her father said when he reached her.

The smile on her father’s face was genuine. He considered that he owed each and every one of the brigadesmen his profound gratitude for their help in returning Ben’s daughter to them when the duchess had kidnapped her.

Winnie hadn’t seen Nick Stillman since the dinner celebration her father had hosted several months ago to thank the brigadesmen for everything they’d done. And she didn’t expect to ever see him again. But here he was, standing in front of her as if he were a member of Society.

Winnie rose to her feet. “What a surprise, Mr. Stillman,” she said, dipping slightly.

“Yes, I just explained to your father that Viscount Rummery happens to be my uncle. My mother is Lord Rummery’s sister.”

“Then you are…?”

“I am Mr. Nicholas Stillman. I have no title. But Lady Rummery insists I make a showing several times a Season, and this is one of those occasions. She’d never forgive me if I failed to attend her annual ball. She’s convinced that I need to keep up appearances in Society.”

“And of course she’s right,” her father said. “Lady Rummery’s event is always well attended.”

“Yes, and my cousin, Lady Elizabeth should be here somewhere, and I’m to make myself useful as her dance partner should she need me. But in light of the number of males gathered around her and her friends, I doubt my services will be required.”

Nick Stillman nodded to a group across the room comprised of Lady Elizabeth and a large group of her acquaintances.

Her father followed Nick Stillman’s direction across the crowded ballroom, but his gaze stopped when he focused on a group of men gathered on the opposite side of the room.

“I see Viscount Cavenaugh,” the Duke of Townsend said, nodding to his right. “Are you acquainted with Lord Cavenaugh?” he asked Nick Stillman.

“Yes, but only slightly. He’s investing in a new line of clipper ships, if rumors are correct.”

“They are indeed. I am also one of those investors. It will take quite a bit of capital, but well worth it in the end.”

“The clippers have been logging incredible times traveling from the East,” Mr. Stillman added.

“Yes, they have.” His Grace turned his attention to Lord Cavenaugh again. “If you will excuse me, I need to speak with him.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Nick Stillman said, bowing slightly as her father left.

She and Nick Stillman were alone, and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a reason to excuse herself. Not a reason Nick Stillman would find believable.

Winnie lifted her gaze and focused on his handsome features. The chiseled bones of his face were angled in grim lines that should have made him appear fearsome. Instead, his high cheekbones and the severe angle of his jaw only intensified his rugged good looks.

His face was a darker bronze than most of the men here tonight. The reason was undoubtedly due to the hours he spent out of doors. His high forehead and deep-set dark eyes gave him a serious look. His nearly black eyes shone with intelligence. If she did not have such a desperate secret to hide, she might consider him intriguing. Instead, he was a man to be feared. A man she needed to avoid.

He turned his attention to her and raised a questioning eyebrow. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, forcing the two deep creases on either side of his face to deepen. The sight was breathtaking.

“Would you care to dance, Lady Winnifred?” he asked. “Or would you rather step outside for a breath of fresh air?”

Couples were making their way to the dance floor for the next set. The dance was a waltz, and the thought of being held in Nick Stillman’s arms wasn’t something she considered safe. “I think I’d prefer to step outside for a bit,” she said. “It’s rather stuffy in here.”

“Yes it is.” He smiled, then extended his arm for her to take.

Winnie didn’t want to place her hand on his outstretched arm. She knew that if she did, she’d experience a sensation she’d be better off never realizing. Her body warmed just standing next to him. She preferred not experiencing what would happen if she touched him. Except she really had no choice but to place her hand on his arm and allow him to escort her from the room.

Winnie lifted her hand and placed it atop his arm.

The muscles beneath her fingers were hard from obvious physical exertion, not soft and fleshy from nothing more strenuous that holding a hand of cards, as were the forearms of most of Society’s pampered lords. A current of excitement traveled from the tips of her fingers to the center of her chest, causing her heart to increase its tempo.

His firm strides as they made their way to the open double French doors on the opposite side of the room were purposeful, resolute. Not hesitant as if he questioned his decision to step outside with her. Or uncertain, as if he regretted making the suggestion to be alone with her.

Winnie walked at his side, her steps matching his. For one of the few times since she’d entered Society, she felt as though she fit with the man she walked beside, a reaction she didn’t often have. She was taller than most other females, and she found that she could look most gentlemen of the
ton
eye to eye. To look Nick Stillman in the eyes she had to lift her chin several inches. It felt impossibly graceful.

They stepped out into the cool evening darkness, lit only by the lights from the ballroom, and several colored lanterns that surrounded the terrace. When they reached the cement balustrade at the far side of the terrace, he stopped and turned to face her.

“Will you get chilled without a wrap?” he asked, when a soft breeze washed over them. “I would willingly offer you my jacket.”

She shook her head. “I enjoy the evening air.”

“So do I,” he answered. “There’s something special about standing in the moonlight beneath the multitude of stars.”

Winnie had always felt the same, but she wasn’t foolish enough to admit that to him. She’d discovered enough similarities without adding that to the list. “You said that your mother was Viscount Rummery’s sister?”

“Yes. My mother was foolish enough to fall in love with my father, an untitled man of the working class, the moment she met him.”

He propped one hip atop the balustrade and seemed as relaxed as if they’d been friends for years instead of sharing only a few unsettled weeks a few months ago.

Winnie wondered at his ability to seem such a capable member of Mack Wallace’s Bedford Street Brigade, and at the same time, seem so comfortable fitting in with the members of the
ton
.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “my grandfather was totally against the match. When my mother and father went against his wishes and eloped, he disowned her

“Oh, how terrible,” Winnie said before she could stop the words.

“Yes. My mother said her father paid the dearest price by never seeing his grandchildren, or being able to watch them grow.”

“I think she’s right. I can’t imagine such a loss. Are your parents still alive?”

“Oh, yes. Alive and disgustingly happy together.”

Nick Stillman turned his head and looked at her with laughter in his eyes. Winnie’s heart shifted in her breast.

“They live very contented lives in Penrith. Father is a solicitor and Mother spends her time caring for her flowers, bushes and anything else that needs tending, be it plant, animal, or human.”

“She doesn’t miss London?”

Nick Stillman crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “She says she does not. And now that my grandfather is dead, she’s had plenty of opportunity to come back if she wanted. My uncle has made numerous offers to set my father up in business here in London, but he and Mother prefer life in Cumbria, north of the Lake District. They’re happy where they are, and now that my three sisters have married and started families, nothing can pull her away from her grandchildren for more than short visits to London every once in a great while.”