Page 41 of The Fortune Hunter’s Gamble

“You remember Humphrey?” she asked. Rowden had recognized him at once, yet they could not have met more than once or twice in their younger days.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out since he came to town,” Rowden replied. “A simple matter, since he frequents the Albion almost every night.”

Humphrey’s eyes sparked with ire. Rowden was taller than he and built along the lines approved by current fashion, broad of chest and lean of flank. In the clean, well-tailored lines of his coats and pantaloons Rowden exuded power, while Humphrey looked fussy and overdressed in compare.

Fanny clutched his arm and glared at Rowden. “We can go elsewhere, you know.”

“But not many places,” Rowden said pleasantly, “since Feltham was asked to leave White’s after he defaulted on a debt.”

“The other man cheated,” Fanny said swiftly, while Humphrey simmered.

Rowden raised his brows. “On counting how many rats a dogs had killed in the ring? I should think that a simple matter of addition.”

“He is defaming my character,” Humphrey muttered, “and I ought to call him out for it.”

“Humphrey, no,” Sophronia said immediately. “Think of your mother’s grief if you should be injured, or worse.”

“As if you have a care for my welfare,” her cousin said, his glance full of wrath.

“I have a care for your mother,” Sophronia said. “Since your father’s death, she must be relying on you to support her, is she not?” At last the pieces clicked into place. She could only blame Rowden’s presence for dulling her mental faculties. “And that is why you are gambling at the Albion and hunting me down to complain about Foxleigh, isn’t it? Your father did not leave you the fortune you expected. Or, if he did, it is not enough to keep you as well as you’d like.”

“Fanny, these rooms are a bore,” Humphrey said, his voice as tight as his mouth. “Let us see if there are better entertainments on the proper side of the establishment.”

Fanny swept a glare over Rowden, then Sophronia, then veered her eyes away. “Whatever you say, my treasure.”

They left, and the curious watchers who had paused their game to regard the exchange went back to their play. The click of counters, soft slap of cards on baize, and carefree chatter once again filled the room. Rowden had not taken issue with the man in the women’s rooms, and so there would be no contretemps to provide a diversion.

Several, though, took note of the way Rowden’s hand moved from Sophronia’s waist to her elbow. She winced at his sudden grip.

“Is it true?” His voice was tight and low.

A thrill darted down her spine, perhaps alarm. He was angry.

“Is what true?” She couldn’t think what he meant. Good heavens, it was distressing, the way her last wit flew out the window when he touched her.

“Your cousin is pestering you for money.”

“He is pestering me for Foxleigh,” she responded. “His father hated that my grandfather granted it to my mother on her marriage. They are still looking for a way to undo that gift.”

Rowden growled low in his throat. “Did Fanny have the right of it? He offered to marry you?”

The thrill intensified, curling around her ribs. Had he been listening, though she had not detected him? How much had he heard?

“His father pushed Humphrey to make an offer when Henry began to court me, and Humphrey made an offer again after Henry died, but it was not much in the way of a proposal, on either occasion.” She needed to divert his attention from this study of her past. Too much lay hidden there, too much hurt locked behind that door. “Fanny was not honest with you.”

He focused his gaze on her face. He was studying her too closely. “Fanny was never honest with me. I do not think she can be honest with anyone, including herself.”

Sophronia blinked. “I was not gambling. I have not had the opportunity to try even one game.”

“Is that why you came?” He looked about the room, his proprietary gaze sweeping the tables, his employees, the doors. “Who are you with?”

“Nate is waiting outside in the alley.”

He scowled. “That is not enough protection.”

His hand on her elbow was hot and heavy, sending that prickle all over her skin. “Am I in need of protection? Giles assured me the Albion is typically quite tame.”

“Why did you really come here?” He steered her along beside him as he prowled among the gaming tables. “To spy on me?”