As he studied her, he realized he could not be objective about this missing money situation. He would still question her, but he knew his heart wasn’t in it.
It was otherwise engaged.
Unfortunately, with the woman who had dropped through his window on a rainy night a few weeks before giving no information about herself.
* * *
Amelia smiled as Driscoll sauntered around the room, glancing occasionally at her table. He looked quite dashing in his black trousers, silver threaded waistcoat and black jacket. His ascot, as usual, had been tied in a hurry.
He’d gone from watching her all night to only visiting once in a while. It made her feel good to know he believed her capable of handling the job. And truth be known, she looked forward to the tiny flutters that erupted in her stomach when she saw him coming down the stairs.
She was quite proud of how she’d learned to deal like a professional, and banter with the patrons. Most of all she loved being paid to do actual work. So many ladies—especially those of her class—never got the feeling of purchasing something with money they earned themselves. It was quite heady.
She’d grown comfortable and was even quite relaxed most of the night. One thing she’d been grateful for had been Driscoll putting a stop to the comments and offers for unsavory assignations from some of the men who visited her table.
However, she needed to stop seeing Driscoll as her savior, her knight in shining armor. Although they’d grown quite close, and she was thoroughly enjoying his kisses, touches and embraces, her initial plan had not changed.
For as comfortable as she had become, she could not be sequestered here for the rest of her life. Despite spending a bit of her pay on frivolous things for herself and repaying the Rose brothers for the items they had purchased for her when she first arrived, she was putting aside money to escape. Even though there had been no further talk about Randolph being allowed back into the club, she was still nervous that he would show up or Mr. Lyons would recognize her.
She’d almost had a fit of vapors when Lyons sat at her table a few nights before. He studied her for a while but didn’t seem to know her. Of course, back when her brother’s plan had been revealed to her, she’d questioned Randolph about why the man wanted her for his mistress since they’d never met. He told her Lyons had seen her from a distance one time when he was at the house for a party.
Only that one slight encounter combined with the mask, had apparently been enough to prevent him from shouting Aha, I’ve caught you! You’re mine. Bought and paid for. And then dragging her from the place.
Could she trust Driscoll to stop that from happening?
Driscoll made some rounds of the other tables and when the night grew to a close, he came back to her. He leaned on her table and made light conversation as she counted her money, wrote the amount on the piece of paper and placed it all in the money bag. He escorted her to Mr. Melrose to hand over the bag and then they made their way upstairs.
It had become their habit to stop in the dining room and have a drink before he departed for the night for his own home.
“Are you happy here, Amelia?” Driscoll asked as he placed a glass of sherry in front of her. He took the seat across from her and sipped his brandy.
“Yes.” She frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“Just ensuring all is well. You are a new employee, and we like to make sure none of the staff members have issues that we can help solve.”
An alarm went off in her head. Was he thinking of firing her? Was he not happy with her?
“Is something wrong?” Her voice came out barely a whisper.
“Not at all,” he responded. A bit too fast for her liking.
Perhaps it was time to address the one thing that did trouble her. “I still believe I should move my belongings downstairs with the other employees. I’m afraid talk will begin, if it hasn’t already, about me living up here.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. Unusual for Driscoll, always the calm and placid one compared to his edgy brother. “What sort of talk? By whom?”
She took a sip of the sweet sherry, avoiding a direct answer. “I don’t want people to think that we are. . .”
His countenance softened and he leaned forward to run his finger down her soft cheek. “That we are what?”
“Um, you know.” She could feel the heat rise in her face.
He stood and moved around the table, taking the seat next to her. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her middle, then tickling the tender skin under her ear. “No. I don’t know. Tell me.”
His breath was brandy-scented and warm, moist. She shivered and he placed soft kisses where his lips were. “That we are lovers?”
Amelia sucked in a breath. “Yes.” Good lord, the way he said it had her wanting to drag him to her bedroom, remove all their clothes and find out just what happens when her body feels this sense of desperate need.
His teeth nipped at her earlobe. “Do you want to be?”
There went her idea that he was too much of a gentleman to ask such a thing.
He leaned back and regarded her. “Before you answer, please know that I have no intention of having an affair with you.”
Her spirits dropped. Apparently, any attraction between the two of them was only in her imagination.
She stood. “Well, I am glad to hear that.” Driscoll tugged at her hand as she began to walk away. “Wait.”
She shook him off and made it as far as the threshold when he caught up to her. He linked their fingers together and stayed with her until she reached her bedroom door. “Good night, Mr.
