Regency Reputation. Diane Gaston
not put a dent in an earl’s fortune, but it would be some restitution—the sort of restitution her father might admire.
While Sir Reginald shuffled the cards for the next hand, Celia glanced around the room, as she often did, looking for Rhys. Instead, her gaze caught upon Lord Neddington.
It did not please her that this young man was so frequent a visitor to this place. She had no wish for Adele to be enamoured of a gambler.
Celia watched Neddington walk through the room aimlessly. He turned towards her table and she quickly averted her eyes, but Neddington was not concerned with her. He was scowling at Lord Westleigh.
At least that was in the young man’s favour.
Between hands Celia kept tabs on Neddington who walked around, but never seemed to gamble. How odd. It did make her a bit less concerned about his character, though.
After several games Westleigh’s partner threw up his hands. ‘No more!’ He turned to Celia. ‘You have emptied my pockets, madam.’
He was even worse a player than Westleigh.
She smiled good-naturedly. ‘Perhaps you would like a rematch another night, sir.’
He laughed. ‘A night when luck is with me.’ He winked. ‘At least I won when you played hazard. We must coax you back to the hazard table, must we not, Westleigh?’ He turned to the earl.
‘It would be my pleasure to play whatever game the lady wishes.’ Westleigh eyed her in the same manner her husband had done before they were married.
It made her cheeks burn.
Sir Reginald, so harmless and friendly, said, ‘Well, madam, you may count on me to partner you any time.’
‘You are an excellent partner, Sir Reginald.’ She dropped her counters into her reticule and stole a glance at her watch. It was nearly time for her coach to arrive.
She stood.
Westleigh took her elbow. ‘Shall we play more hazard, my dear?’
‘Thank you, no.’ She drew her arm away. ‘I bid you gentlemen goodnight.’
She looked for Rhys, but he was not in the game room, so she made her way to the cashier and repaid the hundred pounds she’d not touched in her play. At the end, she carried away over seventy pounds. The huge sum filled her with guilt. Winning at hazard would cost Rhys directly. It was a poor way to repay his generosity.
Celia wanted to see Rhys before she left. After cashing out, she glanced in the supper room, but he was not there. She asked the hall servant where Rhys was.
‘Drawing room,’ the man told her.
Celia climbed the stairs. As she neared the doorway to the drawing room, she heard Rhys’s voice and held back.
‘Your concern is unfounded, Xavier,’ Rhys said. ‘And insulting, as well.’
‘Insulting?’ His friend’s voice rose.
‘I am well able to make my own decisions about business and about women.’ Rhys spoke with heat. ‘I do not caution you against dallying with any of the several women who vie for your attention, you know.’
‘There would be no need.’ Xavier’s tone was just as angry. ‘I know how to handle women.’
‘And I do not?’ Rhys countered.
‘Come now.’ Xavier turned placating. ‘This infatuation with the masked woman is something else. You do not know who she is. Or what she wants.’
‘She wants what I want. Money,’ Rhys answered. ‘And she has given me her name. That is enough for me.’
‘Rhys—’ Xavier began.
‘Enough,’ Rhysdale broke in. ‘I need you as a friend, not a nursemaid. Do not press me further on this matter.’
Celia stepped away from the doorway as Xavier strode out of the room. Seeing her, he hesitated only briefly, long enough to look half-apologetic, half-provoked. He continued on his way down the stairs.
She knocked on the door.
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