To Dare a Rogue, Lana Williams [read an ebook week txt] 📗

sighed. He glanced over his shoulder as if to make certain the bartender had moved away then said, “Your hands will give you away.”

She glanced down at the one that held the glass, realizing how feminine it looked—dainty and pale—compared to James’ more masculine one.

“We had best leave your drink here,” he added quietly. “That way you can leave your hands at your sides when we enter the card room.”

She nodded, pleased that she remembered not to speak. Then she took a sip of the whiskey, doing her best not to sputter as it burned a path down her throat. But there was little she could do to prevent her eyes from watering at the strong spirits.

The corner of James’ mouth quirked. “Should I have ordered you a sherry?”

“Do they have that here?” she asked with a smile.

“Highly doubtful.” He sipped his drink as he glanced about the room, nodding at one man but ignoring the others.

Was that because he didn't know them or didn't like them? She hadn't considered the unspoken rules that governed the way men communicated until now. When women interacted, much could be interpreted by the small nuances in their behavior. There was certainly a difference between a cool nod of greeting and a warm one. Perhaps that held true for men as well. She managed two more sips as James tossed back the rest of his drink then raised a brow.

She ignored his obvious impatience and continued to take in the room in the reflection, noting the dim light, the sparkling crystal, dark wood, and low murmur of voices interspersed with occasional laughter. The place had a hushed atmosphere. It was difficult to tell whether the guests discussed business or pleasure. She supposed they did both.

“Seen enough?” James asked.

Charlotte emptied her glass, hissing at the way it burnt her throat, then nodded.

“Remember, keep your eyes down. If you see anyone you know, advise me immediately, and we will leave.”

She nodded though she hoped that didn't come to pass.

James nodded his thanks at the bartender then strolled toward the door with Charlotte directly behind him. He paused as they stepped into the corridor. “Walk at my side not behind me,” he instructed. “You're my friend not my servant.”

Again Charlotte nodded, clenching her fists when the urge to loop her arms through his overcame her. That would never do.

They stepped into the card room and paused to look around. Though fascinated, Charlotte did her best to match James’ casual glance at the surroundings.

Tables were spaced about the room, mostly with seats for four. She noted several familiar lords but didn’t say anything to James because she didn’t know them well enough to be recognized, especially dressed as she was.

After a long moment, James moved closer to the first table and paused again. She watched, quickly recognizing the game as whist. The players at the next table played vingt-et-un. The men seemed entirely focused on the game and paid her no mind. Drinks sat at their elbows, but she was surprised none of the players were smoking. Perhaps that wasn’t allowed in some establishments. With so many men in an enclosed area, the smoke would’ve quickly become overwhelming.

It was difficult to tell who was winning or losing at first. Soon the details became more apparent. The number of chips piled before one player. The scowl on another’s face. They continued slowly around the room, Charlotte’s nerves easing the longer they were there. Hazard, a game of dice, was played at a table along the rear of the room.

“Care to play a hand, Redmond?” one of the players asked James.

“Not with you, Cartwright,” James replied with a smile. “You are far too lucky.”

“It’s skill, not luck,” the man protested.

Charlotte committed as many details to memory as possible, from the striped wallpaper and comfortable chairs to the men themselves who seemed oblivious to all else but the cards they held. She could imagine James and Edward doing the same thing and wondered how much they won or lost on any given night.

“Redmond, you didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

Charlotte stilled, aware of James stiffening beside her. Edward’s voice was one she’d recognize anywhere. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. She didn’t dare look at her brother, certain he’d recognize her immediately. What should she do?

Chapter Seven

James froze at the sound of Edward's voice and slowly turned to face his friend. It took all of his will not to glance at Charlotte to see her reaction.

“Wynn. I didn't expect to see you here this evening.”

“You didn't ask,” Edward replied with a frown.

James shifted his body to block more of Charlotte from her brother’s view. “I was just about to leave. I don’t think there’s anything exciting happening here this evening.”

The irony of the statement had James clenching his jaw. This was more excitement than he’d experienced since returning to London, but not the sort he enjoyed. His heart threatened to hammer its way free from his chest.

Edward considered one of the nearby tables. “You don't wish to try your hand at whist this evening? You normally have excellent luck.”

James’ stomach lurched at the impossible idea of sitting at a table with Charlotte nearby, even if she was in disguise. He had no doubt her identity would soon be revealed if she lingered for long.

But he didn't want to overreact. That would only rouse Edward’s suspicions that something was amiss.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “For some reason, playing cards holds little appeal this evening.” He kept his gaze on Edward, willing his friend not to look over his shoulder at Charlotte. Now that James had his back toward her, he wasn't certain if she remained or if she'd had the good sense to depart as quickly as her feet could carry her.

Yet knowing her and her recent quest for thrills, she was probably still standing directly behind him. Guilt settled heavily over his shoulders at the realization of just how wrong the outing could end. If Edward