stood across the faro table from her, waiting for the puzzle pieces to sort themselves. She glanced up and her gaze held his for a brief moment. She quickly looked away.
He walked around the table and leaned towards her ear. ‘May I have a moment to speak with you, miss?’
She bowed her head and allowed him to lead her out of the room.
He brought her to a private corner of the hallway and backed her against the wall. ‘What the devil are you doing here, Phillipa?’
She glared at him. ‘How did you know it was me?’
How did he know? The set of her shoulders. The tilt of her chin. Her smile. ‘It was not that difficult.’
‘Rhysdale did not recognise me.’ That chin lifted.
‘He does not know you as I do.’ But he would not allow her to change the subject. ‘Why are you here?’
She shrugged. ‘To gamble. Why else?’
‘Who is with you?’ Her brothers were gone. And, if they had not been, they would have had to answer to him for bringing their sister here.
‘No one,’ she said.
‘No one?’ She could not have come alone. ‘How did you get here?’
She gave him a defiant look. ‘I walked.’
Walked? ‘Alone?’
She did not waver. ‘Yes, alone.’
He seized her arm. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot walk about alone at night.’
‘It is only a few streets.’ She continued to stare into his eyes. ‘Besides, Ned and Hugh taught me how to defend myself.’ She lifted her skirt and showed him a sheathed knife attached to her calf.
As if she would have time to draw it, if a man accosted her. As if such a man could not easily grab it from her hand.
‘And that makes you safe.’ He spoke with sarcasm.
‘There were plenty of people about and street lamps were lit along Piccadilly. It was like walking in daytime.’
He doubted that. He also doubted that she was there for the simple reason of gambling. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Let us talk in the supper room.’
The supper room served wine and spirits and a buffet supper. Designed in the style of Robert Adam, its décor was light and airy, the opposite of the game room with its darker colours. Chairs and tables covered with white linens were arranged for conversation. Along one wall stood a huge buffet table upon which were set out a variety of cold meats, cheeses, cakes and compotes. Patrons could help themselves to the food and sit at tables covered with white linen. Servants attended the room, providing drink.
The supper room was a needed respite from the high emotions in the game room, Xavier thought.
‘Be seated. I’ll get you something to eat.’ He led her to a table set away from the few people seated in the room and made his way to the buffet.
To his dismay, Rhys was in the room, chatting with some gentlemen seated not too far away from the white pianoforte in the corner.
Xavier glanced back at Phillipa, whose posture had stiffened. She, too, had noticed Rhys.
Rhys excused himself and crossed the room to Xavier. ‘I noticed we have a new woman patron.’ He faced Xavier but his back was to Phillipa. ‘What is wrong with her? She did not seem to be falling at your feet like other woman.’
Xavier’s good looks did not matter one jot to Rhys. In fact, Rhys was perhaps the only person, besides Xavier’s own family, of whom he could say such a thing. Rhys was no fool, though. He knew women were attracted to Xavier.
Xavier evaded the question. ‘I am reasonably sure she is merely here for the gambling. Not the sort to cause trouble.’
Rhys laughed. ‘I thought you’d met your match.’
Xavier shook his head.
Rhys put a hand on Xavier’s arm. ‘I have a favour to ask of you.’
During the war, Rhys twice saved Xavier’s life. At Badajoz. At Quatre Bras. Xavier would have done the same for Rhys. ‘What is it?’
Rhys glanced around. ‘Take over the club for a few days, will you? The gentlemen with whom I was conversing have an investment that may interest me, but it would require a few days’ travel.’
‘Certainly,’ Xavier agreed. ‘What sort of investment?’
‘Steam engines,’ Rhys replied.
‘Steam engines?’ The machines that had caused such riots and unrest in the textile industry?
‘Expanding their use. Making them smaller. Steam engines will do great things, you will see.’ Rhys wanted another way to build wealth besides a gambling house. He’d never intended to make gambling his life.
Gambling and soldiering had enabled Rhys to survive after Rhys’s mother died and Lord Westleigh abandoned him to the streets. Xavier, on the other hand, had grown up amidst luxury and the devotion of his parents and siblings. They made unusual friends.
Xavier nodded. ‘If it looks to be a good investment, make certain I have a share.’
Rhys leaned forwards. ‘If it is the sort of investment I expect, I may be asking you to take over the gaming house altogether.’
Run the gaming house? Xavier would do it. He delighted at doing the unexpected. Nearly everyone he’d ever met expected him to coast through life on his looks, but that was the last thing Xavier intended to do. He’d prove himself by skill, cunning, strength. Character. He’d already proved himself a good gambler, a brave soldier; he’d not mind proving he could run the best gaming house in London.
He glanced back at Phillipa. ‘I’ll take over the gaming house, if it comes to that, Rhys. But now I had better not keep this lady waiting.’
Rhys clapped him on the back and left the room.
Xavier brought two plates of food to the table where Phillipa waited.
‘You must not have told him,’ she said as he placed a plate before her.
‘Told him?’ Ah, she thought he would tell Rhys about her. ‘Of course not.’ He meant no one to know she’d come here. ‘I am going to get you through this folly of yours without injury to your person or your reputation.’
‘Reputation?’ She made a disparaging sound. ‘After what you told me about my father today, is not the whole family drenched in scandal? What does my reputation matter now?’
He signalled to a servant to bring some wine. ‘Society has always known your father to be a gambler and a philanderer. His self-exile to the Continent will seem like an honourable act. Your family’s reputation should stay intact.’
The wine arrived and Phillipa took
