“How can I help you?” Margie said after she’d recovered from Dante’s blasted flirting.
“Remember the young lady Betsy brought clothes to last evening?”
“Yes. She said she was a guest of yours.” Again, the blush.
Driscoll hurried on. “Yes, she was a guest, but not that kind. . .” He was afraid his face was as red as Margie’s. He coughed to cover his unease and continued. “The young lady, Miss Pence, had to leave her home unexpectedly. I have just hired her, and she needs a few items of clothing to be able to work.”
The devil take it, he was blushing again. This was ridiculous. Margie was his employee, and he had no reason to be uncomfortable. Let her think what she wanted.
“You will find her upstairs in the bedroom. She will give you a list of things she needs.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew some bills and handed them to her. “This should cover what you will purchase. Be sure to bring me the receipts since I will be deducting the cost from her wages.”
Margie’s eyes grew wide as she accepted the money. There. That should stop any gossip.
“Is Miss Pence to be another maid?”
He shook his head. “No, she will be working on the gaming floor.”
More raised eyebrows. “A woman, sir?”
“Yes. Now go on up and get the list and hurry along.”
He took a deep breath as Margie hurried off. Now he could return to his work and go over the last evening’s receipts. He preferred that to dealing with uncomfortable requests of maids and thoughts of Miss Pence sliding trousers down her shapely legs and changing into lady’s undergarments.
Bloody hell. What was wrong with him?
About four hours later he was fully engrossed in his work and had managed to put Miss Pence and her clothing issues far from his mind. He felt better, more in balance with his usual self.
A soft knock on the office door drew his attention. The door opened and Miss Pence stuck her head in. “Do you have a free minute?”
“Certainly.” He waved her in. And immediately lost his breath. She had gone from a trouser-clad, sopping wet mess to a beautiful young lady with all the grace and polish one sees on a ballroom floor in London.
She wore a deep blue satin dress with the front drawn across her middle to gather in the back. The neckline exposed enough of her bosom to entice but was not at all improper. The sleeves were wide at her upper arms, but snug fitting from the elbows down.
His eyes roamed to her hands, soft and graceful, joined together and resting against her stomach. Her hair had been brushed to a golden delight, then pulled back into a chignon with spirals of curls hugging her forehead and temples.
She was magnificent.
And every man who came to the club would see her. And talk to her. And flirt with her. Maybe he should have hired her as a maid after all. One who would remain in the background.
Then he brought himself up short. Miss Pence was an employee. Only that. Plus, he knew nothing of her background and hadn’t yet decided if he even trusted her.
“You look lovely, Miss Pence.” He barely got the words out, feeling like a youth faced with his first sweetheart.
She offered a slight dip and blushed charmingly. “Thank you.”
“I see that Margie was able to find something that suits you.”
“Yes. She was very helpful. Thank you for that, too.”
He waved her to the chair in front of his desk. “How can I help you?”
“I wondered when I would actually begin my employment. I certainly need some practice with the game before I attempt to act as a dealer.”
Driscoll tapped his pencil on the desk. “Yes, you do indeed. However, we do not allow ladies on the game floor.”
The rule that had applied since they opened the door was men were permitted to bring their mistresses with them. A few women from the demimonde visited occasionally, but ladies were not allowed. The brothers felt it was not a proper place for ladies. Although, it was obvious to him that they had just employed a lady to not only appear on the gaming floor, but actually work as a dealer.
The idea of Miss Pence wearing a mask had been a stroke of genius. Whatever issue she was dealing with, along with her reputation, would not be worsened by her job at The Rose Room.
* * *
“Then how will I learn what I need to know?” Amelia tried her best to calm her racing heart, which seemed to happen whenever she was around Driscoll.
She smoothed out the gown Margie had purchased for her to distract herself. She’d been quite pleased when the maid had returned with the articles of clothing she had requested. The gown was lovely and fit perfectly. Thank heaven for ready-made clothes. The maid had even been clever enough to also purchase a brush, comb, toothbrush and tooth powder, along with a night rail and dressing gown. All items she’d not thought about in her race from the house.
Amelia felt as though she’d been traveling in a whirlwind. She had gone through so much in the past couple of days it was a wonder she was able to think straight. Now she faced the challenge of employment. She’d never worked a day in her life, and if things had gone the way her mother and stepfather had planned, she would have had her come-out in London and married off to a gentleman who would take care of her for the rest of her life.
Alas, now she was left in the care of
