A Rogue for the Dutiful Duchess by Louise Allen

Author:Louise Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-12-23T15:33:48+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Nick scooped his winnings towards himself and stood up. ‘Thank you for the game, gentleman. Now I must go and do my duty on the dance floor.’

The three men still seated greeted that with good-natured banter and he strolled away, taking a looping path through the card room. It had been an amiable game, with no great losses to anyone, and it had allowed him to keep an eye on the young baronet who was the subject of his latest commission, seated at a table a few feet away.

Sir Peter Tracy—eighteen, fat of pocket, green as grass and desperate to appear a man about town—was frowning over the cards fanned out in his hand. There was not much paper or coin in front of him, and considerably more in front of the three men he was playing with. With him signalling the contents of his hand the way he was, it was not surprising he was losing—even without any trickery on the part of his opponents.

Nick drifted past the table, coming to a halt behind Captain Howard. These gull-catchers so often presented themselves as one-time military men that it seemed to Nick as though they ought to be wearing a badge reading Sharper. But there was never any shortage of gullible victims for them.

He waited until Sir Peter glanced up and saw him, then let his gaze drop to the Captain’s cards, looked up again and raised one eyebrow. Then he smiled wryly, shook his head very slightly, and wandered casually away.

He heard the snap of some cards being played, then a youthful voice. ‘Oh, these confounded cards. I have not had a decent hand all evening, I swear.’

Nick glanced back. The baronet saw him looking and frowned, apparently confused. It was a tiny thing, but he was now uneasy about that last hand. It was going to take considerably more before he was ready to accept that his smart new friend was out to fleece him, but he did not want the young man to see he was in Nick’s sights as well as the Captain’s.

Lady Oldstead’s ball was proving as much of a success as her entertainments usually did. A lavish hand with the refreshments and wine, first-class musicians and novel decorations—that evening the guests were to imagine themselves in Venice—all resulted in a vast crowd with a great deal of noise and heat that came like a blow after the hush of the card room.

And there, promenading down the line in a country dance, were Sophie and his father, who was manging to make the measure look more like a minuet than a frolic.

Should he make a move?

Was she right and this was time to end it?

Nick dug a coin from a pocket and flipped it.

Heads, I approach him.

Heads it was. He found a position close to the set of dancers and waited for the music to end in a flurry of bows and curtsies. It was a risk. If his father made a scene, or

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