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Her fingers drummed the tabletop. ‘I did.’
He reached across the table and quieted her busy hand. ‘Do you need assistance? Are you in distress?’
She glanced into his eyes, which conveyed only concern and earnestness. His hand was warm against hers, even through the thin fabric of her glove.
She slipped her hand away, shaken at how comforting his touch felt and how much she needed comfort.
‘I’ll come to rights,’ she said, although her voice lacked any semblance of confidence.
‘I can lend you money,’ he went on.
She shook her head. ‘I know better than to borrow from moneylenders.’
His eyes flashed. ‘I am not a moneylender. I offer as a friend.’
She took in a breath. ‘But … you do not even know who I am.’
He traced the edge of her mask with a finger. ‘Tell me, then. Who are you?’
She sat very still at his gentle touch while her heart fluttered in her chest.
‘I am nobody,’ she said, speaking with a truth that had been proved over and over. She had not mattered enough for anyone to care what the impact of their actions would be to her.
She raised her eyes to his.
His promise seemed so genuine, as if he was a man she could believe. Would he truly lend her money if she needed it? And then what? Without gambling she could not repay him. What would she do then? Turn to moneylenders?
She shivered as the memory of her father returned. He had to sell her pony, he’d told her. He had to pay the moneylenders. Life after that had been filled with more times of want than times of plenty.
Until the day her mother told her news even more horrible than losing a pony. Her father was dead. He’d been accused of cheating at cards and a man—an earl—had shot him dead in a duel.
‘I do not need a loan,’ she said absently, still caught in the memory of her father’s senseless death.
At every society entertainment she feared she would encounter her father’s killer. What would she do then?
Rhys spoke. ‘But you need money.’
‘I’ll find another way.’ Although she knew there was no other way.
She, Adele and Lady Gale would have to find a set of rooms that Celia’s widow’s pension could afford. She’d have to let the servants go and Adele’s chances of making a good marriage would become extremely slim. At least Celia would not have to encounter the earl who killed her father.
She finished her glass of wine as the servant placed the bottle on the table. Rhysdale poured her another.
‘Thank you.’ She lifted the glass and decided to push the attention off herself. ‘What of you, Rhysdale? When I came in you looked as if you were the one who had lost money.’
A corner of his mouth rose. ‘The house never loses, you know. We are doing well.’
She smiled. ‘I am glad of it. You seem to have more players each time I’ve come.’
‘More women, as well.’ Again he touched her mask. ‘The Masquerade seems to be working.’
She put her fingers where his had touched. ‘It has worked for me.’
He sat back. ‘Until now.’
She shrugged. ‘I shall have to consider whether to come again and try to recoup.’
He leaned forwards again. ‘Do you mean to say you might not return?’
‘I might not.’ She paused. ‘I should not.’
‘Do not say so!’
Her heart started pounding faster again. She took another sip of wine. ‘Does one gambler matter so much?’
His gaze seemed to pierce into her. He did not answer right away. Finally he said, ‘I believe there are men who come merely in hopes of playing with you.’
She scoffed. ‘Surely you are not serious.’ She supposed the men who’d partnered with her and those who played against her recognised her skill. ‘In any event, I doubt any man will want to partner with me after my losing streak tonight.’
She’d not only lost her own money, but her partners’ money, as well.
‘You place so little value on yourself?’ He continued to pin her with his eyes.
No one else had valued her.
She glanced down. ‘Who wants to partner with someone who is losing?’
He drummed on the table like she had done earlier, while his steady gaze began to unnerve her.
‘I have a proposition,’ he said finally. ‘Come work for me.’
Rhys did not know why he had not thought of this before.
Hire her.
‘What do you mean, work for you?’ She looked shocked. ‘Doing what?’
‘Gambling,’ he rushed to assure her. ‘Nothing more.’ The idea grew in his head as he spoke. ‘I would pay you to gamble. And to encourage others to gamble, as well.’
Her eyes through her mask grew wary. ‘Am I to cheat?’
He waved a hand. ‘Never! It is not cheating to pay you to gamble. You will receive no advantage.’
She glanced away, as if deliberating.
It gave him time to think, as well. Would he compromise the gambling house by paying her to gamble? He only knew he wanted her to come back. He needed her to come back.
She turned back to him. ‘How much would you pay?’
He threw out the first number that occurred to him. ‘Two pounds a night?’
‘Two pounds?’ She looked astonished.
Was that not enough? He paid his man only fifty pounds a year. ‘That is more than generous, madam.’
She sat very still, but he fancied her mind was calculating.
Finally she spoke. ‘I need money, sir, but if my task is to gamble, then, as generous as two pounds a night might be, it does not allow me to play for bigger stakes. What is more, I still stand a chance that I will lose as I have lost tonight. That I cannot risk.’
She had a point. In gambling there was always the possibility of losing it all.
He wanted her to agree, though. He wanted to see her again. If he did not offer enough to entice her, she might never return.
He tapped on the table again. ‘Very well. I will stake you.’ He thought for a minute. ‘Say, for one hundred pounds. At the end of the night, you return my stake to me but keep your winnings. If you lose, you make an accounting to me of the loss.’ If she lost too often, he’d reassess this plan, but his gamble was that she would bring in more money than she would lose.
Her eyes showed interest. ‘Do I still receive the two pounds a night?’
He was not that big a fool. ‘One pound. Plus your winnings.’
She calculated again, her eyes on his. What did she look like under her mask? He imagined lifting it off her face, discovering the treasure underneath.
In the back of his mind he could hear Xavier’s voice, questioning his motives, accusing him of succumbing to the first pretty lightskirt who’d caught his eye in a long time.
She was not a lightskirt, but Rhys would wager she belonged on the fringes of society as did he. His money was still on her being an actress.
She opened her lovely mouth and, God help him, all he could think of was tasting her lips. She was about to agree—he could feel it.
Celia was so tempted. He’d handed her a way to gamble without losing her money. What could be better than that? What did it matter, then, if she succumbed to the excitement of the game? Losing would not imperil her.
It was as if he was handing her the future she so desired. To see Adele well settled. To retire to the country and live quietly within her means with no one directing her life but herself.
Rhysdale did not press her. He poured her another glass of wine and waited.
She accepted the glass gratefully and took a long sip, but even the wine did not loosen the knots of panic inside her.
He’d offered her this help as a friend. When had she last had a friend? For that matter, when had she last been able to trust a man? Even her beloved father broke promise after promise.
What if she refused Rhysdale’s offer? Her mind spun with what she would have to do to economise. She’d have to try to pay back most of the creditors. She’d have to give up her coachman, her carriage, her servants. She’d have little left for rooms to let and food to eat. Adele did not deserve such a life. Even her mother-in-law did not deserve such a life.
Rhysdale’s gaze was patient and, she fancied, sympathetic. ‘You are not required to decide this minute. Come to me tomorrow, in the afternoon.’ He glanced about the room. ‘We can discuss it without anyone around.’ His voice deepened. ‘If you refuse employment, my offer of a loan still stands.’
She felt tears prick her eyes. ‘You are kind, Rhysdale.’
A smile grew slowly across his face. ‘Do not say so too loudly or you will ruin my reputation.’
She almost laughed.
Some gentlemen entered the room and she came to her senses. ‘What time is it?’ She fished into her reticule to check her timepiece. ‘I must take my leave.’
He stood and offered his hand to assist her.
As they walked towards the door, they passed the older man she’d seen with Rhysdale when she’d arrived that night.
‘Charming supper room!’ the man remarked to his companion.
When he spied Rhysdale, his eyes hardened to ice. He walked past them without a word.
Even the air seemed chilled as he passed.
Celia inclined her head to Rhysdale. ‘Who is that gentleman?’
Rhysdale’s entire manner changed into something dark and bitter.
‘No one you need know,’ he answered.
It pained her to see him so disturbed. ‘Does he come here often?’
‘Never before.’ Rhysdale’s voice rumbled with suppressed emotion. ‘But I suspect he will come again.’
He led her out into the hallway and down the stairs to collect her cloak. As had become his custom, he escorted her into the street to wait for her coachman.
Clouds hid the stars and made the night even darker than usual. Celia’s own woes receded as she stood waiting with him for her carriage, an overwhelming desire to comfort him taking over.
She touched his arm. ‘Rhysdale, it will not do for the both of us to be glum.’
He covered her hand with his and his typically unreadable face momentarily turned pained and vulnerable. ‘Come this afternoon. Let us talk more about my offer.’ His grip on her hand tightened. ‘Do not leave me entirely.’
She blinked and her throat constricted. ‘Very well. I’ll come.’
He smiled and his gratitude was palpable. He leaned down, his eyes half closing.
Celia’s heart thundered in her chest as the night itself wrapped around them and his head dipped lower and lower. She wrestled with an impulse to push him away and a desire to feel his arms around her.
The clop-clop of a horse team sounded in her ears and he stepped away. Her carriage approached from the end of the street. When the coach pulled up to where they stood, he put the steps down and reached for her hand to help her into the couch.
When she placed her hand in his, she suddenly turned to face him, her words bursting from her mouth. ‘I will do it, Rhysdale. I will come work for you.’
His face broke out in pleasure. ‘Indeed?’
She smiled, as well. ‘Yes.’
For a moment he looked as if he would pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead, he gently cupped her cheek. ‘We will talk more this afternoon.’
‘Until then,’ she whispered.
She climbed into the coach and he closed the door. As the carriage pulled away, her heart raced. Had she been afraid he would kiss her or had she yearned to feel his lips on hers?
Chapter Five (#ulink_cc5770ef-ef69-50c6-8d8f-1309ad516dc9)
