A Lady’s Trust: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Two, Hutton, Callie [best ebook reader for chromebook .txt] 📗

offered a greeting. “Not used to seeing you here. Don’t you have a club to run?”

“I do. Everyone is entitled to time off.” He waved at a footman to bring him a brandy.

Sir Grant Johnson leaned forward. “I hear you have a woman working one of your tables.”

Driscoll’s stomach muscles tightened. “Yes. We did. She is no longer working for us.”

Sterling raised his brows. “Indeed? I was just there a couple weeks ago, and she was working.”

Driscoll shrugged, not wanting to put too much emphasis on Amelia. “Employees come and go. We’re used to it.” Which was, of course, a lie since they rarely lost an employee.

“I heard she was a fine piece of baggage.” Sir Grant wiggled his eyebrows and Driscoll had to squelch the desire to pummel his face. If he were to get any worthwhile information, he had to get off the subject of Amelia. All he’d accomplished was to increase his agitation.

They bantered for a while and despite his best attempts, when nothing was forthcoming that Driscoll could use, he excused himself and made his way to Brooks’s.

Once he joined a small group of men, he decided to be more aggressive about seeking information. He swirled the brandy in his glass. “I heard some rumors about an auction.”

Mr. Joshua Tilton leaned in and whispered. “Not supposed to talk about it. Illegal, you know.” He looked around as if expecting the authorities to swarm the building and haul him off. “I understand the invitations are hard to come by, but, if you want more information, talk to Lyons. Or maybe Newton. They’re running it.”

Bloody hell. He obviously could not talk to the two of them since he suspected they were the ones holding Amelia.

“Anyone know the chit?” Driscoll felt dirty even asking the question. The thought of a young girl, any young girl, not just Amelia, being auctioned off to the highest bidder was repugnant.

Mr. David Archer also leaned forward. “From what I’ve heard it’s Newton’s step-sister.”

Driscoll let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know Newton had a step-sister.”

“I saw her once,” Archer said, downing his glass of brandy. “Newton threw one of his parties. She was living there at the time. She made a quick appearance, but nippily left when she saw what kind of parties Newton runs.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.” He paused. “Pretty piece.”

Driscoll’s mouth dried up. He was close. Very, very close. As nonchalantly as possible, he said. “Oh? What does she look like?”

Then he sat there with his heart thundering in his chest and his head pounding while Archer described Amelia.

19

“What’s the latest count?” Lyons leaned over Randolph’s shoulder and peered at the list of auction attendees, which was only two days off.

“Eighteen, if we include Lord Ashley-Cooper. He hasn’t confirmed yet, but he has shown a great deal of interest,” Randolph said.

“He will be here, of that you can be sure. He’s an old lecher and would love to get his hands on some young flesh.”

Again, Randolph’s stomach roiled. The closer they got to the auction, the more he regretted getting involved with it. Truth be known, he also felt nothing but remorse for starting the whole thing by offering Amelia as a wager to Lyons. What had seemed like a good idea at the time in his drunken state had now awakened a long-silenced conscience that he thought was dead and buried.

What would his father think? He was quite fond of Amelia, thought of her as his own daughter.

Almost as if he’d spoken the words out loud, Lyons looked at him with a tightened jaw. “You are not thinking about reneging once again on our deal, are you, Newton?”

Randolph shook his head. “No. Not at all. I was just thinking of any others to whom we can extend an invitation.” He sighed. It didn’t matter how much it troubled him to auction off his stepsister, he didn’t have the blunt to pay Lyons and his credit with the usual moneylenders was nil.

“I just want to make sure Amelia goes to someone who won’t abuse her.”

Lyons straightened and glared at him. “You are having second thoughts, aren’t you?”

“Well, she is my sister. I mean stepsister. And my ward. It does make one feel a tad uncomfortable.”

Lyons slapped him on the back. “You will get over it when you see how much the chit brings in. If things go as I believe they will, you’ll have enough to continue your lifestyle until you can find a wealthy wife. We have some pretty deep pockets on our list.”

Randolph nodded, knowing Lyons spoke the truth. He didn’t have a feather to fly with and if he wanted to find a rich wife, he needed the blunt to update his wardrobe, purchase flowers, theater and museum tickets. All the things young ladies expected when they were being courted.

If he could only push from his mind the image of a young Amelia when she first arrived at Newton Manor with her mother after the former Viscount Newton had married the woman. Amelia had been a pretty little girl, shy and quiet. As she’d stepped out of the carriage and looked up at him, she gave him a soft smile. She’d been dressed in a blue flowered dress, white stockings and black shoes. A blue ribbon had tied her golden blonde hair back.

His father had developed quite an affection for the girl, which Randolph was young enough and foolish enough to resent.

Assuming Randolph held the same fondness for Amelia, the former viscount had handed her guardianship and the responsibility for her welfare to him. He’d expected Randolph to give her a Season and find her a suitable husband with the dowry he left. Instead, his son had spent the dowry and was now auctioning her off as a mistress to cover the cost of his debauched lifestyle.

Another stab at his conscience, knowing the old viscount had depended on him to do the right thing.

He sighed. “Very well. I have no intention of