Three Kisses Before Christmas, Wilde, Tanya [ebooks that read to you TXT] 📗

“Dammit, Langley.” His gaze flicked to the woman. “Yes, I would stake my bloody—” A lock of flaming hair peeked out from the woman’s cloak. Wolfstan’s breath slammed back in his throat. He gripped the table to steady himself.

Rebecca. What the hell was she doing here?

His gaze drifted to her companion. And who the hell was she with? He narrowed his eyes on the fellow. Tawny hair fell onto broad, bulky shoulders, and two days’ growth of whiskers covered the man’s jaw. He looked rugged and windswept. Not the sort that kept the company of ladies.

“Who the hell is that with her?”

“If I am not mistaken,” Langley drawled, “that is Knightley’s manager, Alexander Lance. I thought he looked familiar.”

“The gaming hell Knightley’s?”

Langley nodded. “One of the less seedy clubs I have frequented of late. No prostitutes allowed.”

“Did it not fall under new ownership?”

“All cloak and dagger, yes.”

“What the hell would Rebecca be doing with a man such as the likes of Alexander Lance?” As far as Wolfstan knew, she did not gamble.

Langley shrugged. “While no women of the night are allowed, the club does cater to wealthier women who enjoy the rush. I believe they have separate quarters, though they aren’t mutually exclusive. It is possible that Lady Rebecca may have visited the club.”

Rebecca in a gambling den?

Wolfstan could not envision it.

What the devil have you gotten yourself into now, Rebecca Flowerdy? Wolfstan rose from his chair. He was about to find out.

“MR. LANCE.”

Rebecca took the seat opposite her club manager. Her gaze swept over the interior of the tavern. She had never been in the Queen’s Arms before. And for some reason, she had imagined it would be much scruffier. The tavern did not have much in clientele, but the dark furniture and the fire lit in the hearth gave it a comfortable feel. Almost cozy.

“Lady Rebecca, I trust you’ve been well.”

“Yes, thank you. How about you? Are you visiting your sister?”

He nodded. “She sends her regards.”

“Do tell Liza I shall visit soon. And I shall bring the lemon cakes she so dearly loves.”

Mr. Lance inclined his head. His eyes tracked the room. “The Queen’s Arms? An interesting choice of venue.”

“We can speak freely here. Your last letter sounded urgent.”

“You did not answer my first.”

“I have been . . . distracted.”

“Too distracted for your club?”

“Trust me, Mr. Lance. I have had quite a week. But I am here now. What has happened that calls for my immediate attention? I am afraid I do not have much time.”

She was expected at Willoughby Castle and found herself anxious to get there. Rebecca had decided to engage, explore, and consider certain temptations. Her lips tingled at the mere thought. Perhaps the best of both worlds was possible. One where she could explore her passions and one where she kept her club. She still wasn’t sure what she felt for Wicke, could not promise him anything, but excitement bloomed inside her belly at the thought of him.

Mr. Lance pushed a mug of ale across the table and into her hands. “Drink.”

“Has Lord Cressley damaged our property again?” Rebecca took a nip of ale. The man had broken half a dozen chairs in a fit of rage the last time he had lost a game of faro.

“Unfortunately not. There is a wager going around the club.”

“How intriguing. What is it about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Mr. Lance nodded. “The participants mean to unmask the mysterious owner of the club. A substantial amount of money is being reported.”

Rebecca paled.

Her entire reputation depended on her hidden identity. Rebecca lifted her mug to her lips and swallowed a mouthful of ale. And another. Her heart crawled into her throat, and she lowered her voice to answer, “Only three people in this world are privy to that knowledge, Mr. Lance. You, me, and our solicitor.”

“Anyone can be bought if the price is right.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me, but worry not. For me to be bought one would have to know my price, and no tinker, tailor or Lord has the currency I’d require.”

“Is that supposed to set my mind at ease?”

“Yes.”

“My solicitor is bound by an agreement to keep my identity a secret. There is nothing to worry about then.”

“Where there are paper trails, there are means to acquire information, and if there is a large sum of money at stake, then it’s only a matter of time before pitchforks and fire are added to the hunt.”

“There must be a way to quell this wager, Mr. Lance.”

“There is.” His steady look unnerved her. But then, Alexander Lance had a way to unnerve anybody in his presence. “Give them a name.”

Her brows furrowed. “It can never come out that I own Knightley’s.”

“I know. Give them another name.”

“It seems quite simple then. Give them yours.”

“They will never believe it.”

“So make them believe it. You already run the place in my stead. Surely it cannot be that far-fetched?”

“What would be far-fetched is any reason I give for hiding the fact. Would you believe that I, Alexander Lance, the owner of Knightley’s, would prohibit prostitutes? They are good for business, everyone knows that. They will certainly not accept that a man of my inferior birth would not boast of being the owner of such an infamous club.”

“First of all, Mr. Lance, the patrons that frequent Knightley’s know you to be a man of few words. They would have found it odd if you did boast. Secondly, you have made your distaste of prostitutes clear on more than one occasion. There might be some who do not believe you to be the owner, but there are many who will.”

“As always, my lady, you make valid points.”

“Please, call me Rebecca. We are colleagues after all.” She sighed into her mug. “Perhaps they will never learn the truth.”

“Would you stake your reputation on that gamble?”

“She will not stake her reputation on anything.”

Rebecca’s heart slunk from her throat to her toes as a shadow fell over them. She locked gazes with Wicke. Instant warmth spread from her