Amelia wiped her mouth with her napkin and placed it alongside her place. “If you will give me a minute, I will join you downstairs for our trip.”
“I shall be waiting on the game room floor. It’s about time you paid a visit to where you will be working.”
* * *
Amelia hurried away from Driscoll and headed to the bedroom to retrieve her hat. An outdated bonnet, it was one she’d borrowed from a maid. She had been grateful to Margie for buying her the few items she had, but as a lady, Amelia felt she was not properly dressed to go out without a hat and gloves, neither of which Margie purchased.
She’d almost fainted from anxiety when Driscoll first mentioned going on a shopping trip, until she remembered Randolph and his cohorts never rose before the sun was about to set. She had plenty of time to visit stores and buy a few things without the fear of being recognized. A few more items would make her life easier while she stayed at the club.
After adjusting the sorry hat, smoothing her hair, pinching her cheeks and biting her lips--she didn’t know why—yes, she did—she left to meet Driscoll downstairs.
Her first glimpse of the game floor overwhelmed her. Even with the staff cleaning up from the night before, and the club empty of members, it still left her a bit giddy. She wove her way through the gaming tables, apologizing to the people who were cleaning and straightening up. They were a friendly group, all of them offering her a smile.
Although she hadn’t noticed at first, it eventually came to her attention that a few of the female employees dipped a curtsey to her. How did they know?
When she thought on it, her place in society would be apparent. She’d been born Lady Amelia, daughter of the Marquess of Salisbury. Her mother had raised her daughter in the manner that behooved the station to which she’d been born, which meant a governess to teach her, and tutors for other things necessary for a lady. Young Amelia had also been trained in deportment, watercolors, embroidery, pianoforte, and dancing. All had been in expectation of making her way into London Society at the appropriate time.
Then her mother died when Amelia was thirteen years. Money that should have come to her and her mother was used to pay the tremendous debts her father had accrued in his lifetime. The entailed properties passed to a young cousin who never made an appearance in all the time she and her mother lived there after her father’s death.
After a decent year of mourning, Mother married Lord Newton, who took a liking to Amelia. However, after Mother died, he went into a decline, leaving Amelia to her own resources. He never arranged for the debut her mother had prepared her for, and passed away two years ago, consigning her to Randolph’s clutches.
“The carriage is in front when you are ready,” Driscoll said. He’d come up behind her without her even noticing.
She spun around, feeling like a young girl. She waved her arms in the air. “This is incredible! I’ve never been in a club before.”
“Nor should you have been.” Driscoll frowned at her. “This is not the place for ladies.”
Feeling quite cheerful, she took his arm and they headed out the front door. “Yet, I am to work in one.”
“That is a good reminder that we must find you a mask to wear before you begin working.”
“Do you know where to find such things?” Amelia took Driscoll’s offered hand and stepped up into the carriage.
“I do. We run a masquerade ball once a year and Dante and I are forced to wear a mask those evenings.”
The carriage started up with a jerk. “What use is a ball if ladies aren’t allowed?”
“That one night a year they are permitted to attend. But we close down the gaming tables and only have an orchestra, food and dancing.”
“How wonderful!” She could hear the excitement in her voice. “When is the next one?”
“Actually, it’s next month. We hold it in October so we don’t interfere with those who travel to their country estates for the holiday season.”
“Are the employees permitted to attend?”
Driscoll nodded. “Yes, indeed. A few of the more high-in-the-instep ladies of the ton don’t approve, but we’ve always felt that they had the option to stay home if that troubles them so much.”
“You are a good man, Driscoll Rose.” She leaned over and patted his knee, then quickly removed her hand when his eyes darkened, and he offered a slight smile. She drew in a deep breath and looked out the window. It was best to keep her hands where they belonged. And they did not belong on Driscoll’s person.
* * *
The first store they visited was the famous Fenwick’s. Amelia acted so innocently excited, glancing around like she was in a castle, touching the items for sale almost with reverence, that he presumed she had never been there before. Another strange piece of the puzzle that was his new employee.
Driscoll left her to seek the store manager and discretely arrange to have the bills for all her purchases sent to him, less they start any rumors of her being his mistress.
He soon realized that no matter where they went no one seemed to know her. Although he would hardly consider himself active in Society, it appeared with Amelia alongside him, everyone he’d ever met wanted to speak with him, while casting speculative sideway glances at his companion.
He introduced her by merely mentioning her name, never offering more, since he had no idea what to say. He certainly couldn’t divulge she was one of his employees. He’d thought about saying she was his cousin but as a youth he’d learned that lies eventually came back to haunt one.
The thought crossed his mind that despite his arrangement with
