mouth lifted a bit higher than the right, tugging his grin at a decidedly rakish angle. “Given your experience, it’s a fair observation,” he allowed. “It is also incorrect, but it is of no consequence to me if you choose to believe differently. Mr. Varah and Mr. Fairley were permitted to give you enough information to secure your cooperation. What did they tell you?”
“Mr. Fairley, I believe it was, informed me it was regarding the matter of a ring and a debt.”
“And so it is, and here you are.” His eyebrows knit slightly as he continued to regard her. “You’re not Alastair Cole’s wife, though, are you?”
“No.”
His expression cleared as he nodded. “I wasn’t certain. The note in my possession only references Olivia. When my sources learned that you shared a residence with Mr. Cole, it seemed the most respectful course to assume you were his wife.”
Olivia volunteered no information.
“It occurs to me now that you are also not his mistress.”
“No, I am not.”
“A relative, then. There are similarities of appearance. His hair is a pale imitation of yours, but the proper coloring is there. The shape of the eyes, I think, is also somewhat alike. Yours are green, are they not?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t say that I recall his. Perhaps green also, like the emerald he was wearing.”
Olivia realized she was gently worrying the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth. She released it and affected a calm she did not feel.
“You are rather tall, also like him, though I believe it attracts more attention when a woman is of a certain height, especially when she is of such a narrow frame that a willow branch could hide her figure. When did you last eat, Miss Cole?”
She blinked, startled by the question. Had she taken more than tea at breakfast? And what of supper yesterday?
“Never mind. Your hesitation speaks for itself.” He pushed away from the desk and pulled on the bell cord again. This time his summons was answered by a different servant. He gave instructions for a repast of baked eggs and toast, but before he let the young man go, he asked Olivia, “Do you care for hot cocoa?”
It was an extravagance she rarely indulged. The thought of it made warmth and sweetness settle lightly on her tongue. She had to press her arm against her stomach to quell the rumbling sound.
“Bring the cocoa. Tea as well. Here, take the tray.” He stepped aside to permit the servant to enter and remained there until the lad had carried out the task of collecting the service. After closing the door, he returned to his perch on the desk and assumed the exact position he’d had before. “You look as if a draft could move you from that chair.”
“You needn’t have troubled yourself or your staff,” Olivia said. “I’m not hungry.”
“A matter of no account. It remains that you’ll eat.”
“High-handed,” she said.
“There you have me.” Shrugging, he picked up the conversational thread as if he’d never abandoned it. “Would I be correct that you are Alastair Cole’s cousin?”
“No.”
“His sister, then. I should have trusted my first notion. I gave too much weight to the physical differences.”
Olivia thought he seemed disappointed in himself. A game played and lost. She wondered at it, wondered how much he’d played to amuse himself and how much was done to unsettle her. Perhaps doing both was the point of it all.
“Though why I should have done so,” he went on, “does not make practical sense. I have sisters of my own. Three, in fact, and we could not be more dissimilar in appearance or inclination. I take by your expression that you consider it a fortunate turn for my sisters. You would be right, of course. They are wholly respectable, while I…” He lifted his hands, palms up, to indicate the entirety of his establishment. “While I, for reasons that are obvious to the meanest intelligence, am not.”
As Breckenridge had correctly divined the bent of her thoughts, Olivia decided that saying nothing was the wiser course.
“I should like to hear your opinion on a particular matter, Miss Cole. It is Miss Cole, is it not?” When she nodded, he continued. “I’d like you to tell me in which of these three respects the gentleman is the most complete bounder. He surrenders his wife to a man he owes payment. He gives over his mistress to discharge his debt. Or he sacrifices his sister to spare himself a very bad end. I confess, I cannot work it out myself, but it occurs that you might have a cogent position.”
Olivia realized she was worrying her bottom lip again. This time she didn’t attempt to stop. She drew blood instead.
Her silence did not deter him. “It’s a puzzler, isn’t it? I have been thinking that if I could arrive at some clever answer, it might make an acceptable teaser in society. Riddles are popular with a certain crowd and their parlor games. It would be a thing oft repeated. The wife. The mistress. The sister.” He feigned disappointment when Olivia offered no reply. “It seems nothing occurs to you either. That is too bad. It will have to remain between us, I’m afraid. At least for the nonce. Is your standing in society a concern to you, Miss Cole?”
“I have no standing in society.”
“Then perhaps you are fortunate.”
“I have never thought about it.”
“Truly? Then you are singular. Standing and reputation account for the greatest part of what passes for thinking among the ton.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I believe your brother would, though. He has cut a wide swath in society since he’s finished university.”
“Your sources again, I collect.”
“Yes. I have many at my disposal. Knowing one’s patrons is part and parcel of operating this establishment.”
“If you say so,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.
“I do. There are patrons with deep pockets that will never go owing the house. Others whose pockets are considerably lighter and want credit to compensate. Some enjoy long runs of good fortune, and there are those who seem to take perverse pleasure in losing time and again. Both present problems in their own right. Then there are the cheats. Attention must be paid, of course. The surest way of keeping out the deep-pocketed players is to entertain the cheats. So, yes, I find it important to learn something about the gentlemen who frequent my establishment. Prudence dictates it.”
“You speak only of gaming.”
“And why would I speak of anything else? You do know you’re in a gaming hell, don’t you?”
“I feel certain that is the least of it.”
“Do you? Are your first impressions never wrong?”
“I saw the red lanterns. I know their purpose.”
“You
