The Last Time We Met - By Lily Lang Page 0,18
Stanhope, do accept Mr. Page’s liberal offer. Perhaps you may win back what you have lost.”
George said smoothly, “Nothing, I assure your lordship, would give us greater pleasure than to give you the moneys.”
Stanhope sighed. “Oh, very well, let me have two thousand pounds then.”
George made his way to the bank, retrieved the notes, and handed it to Stanhope.
“Perhaps your lordship would oblige me with an IOU and pay the amount at your convenience?” asked George.
“I shall be able to pay it in a couple of months,” said Stanhope.
George smiled. “Your lordship is very kind,” he said, and bowing respectfully, withdrew once again from the table to deposit the IOU with the banker. When he had accomplished this task, Jason beckoned to him once again.
“You may increase the bank to twenty thousand pounds for tonight,” Jason told him. “We’ve been having a good run this month, and we may as well keep this lot happy.”
George nodded. “Very good, sir.”
Satisfied that for the moment everything ran smoothly in the hazard room, Jason checked on the player’s supper room where his staff laid out free wine, as well as Monsieur Leblanc’s incomparable cold buffet, for the gamblers to enjoy gratis before or after their play. Everything looked in order, so he made his way to the large dining room where dinner was still being served to the members of the club who did not care to play.
Having made the rounds, Jason elected to return to his office where he remained for several hours making his daily review of the accounts. It was an activity guaranteed to absorb his complete and undivided attention, and banishing once again the thought of Miranda, the curve of her throat as she had looked up at him, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the ledgers Olly had left for him.
When at last he was finished and had placed a new order for the ivory dice that George had told him they would need, he looked up at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearly ten and well past the time for supper.
He rose to his feet, stretching panther-like to work the kinks from his shoulders, and found his thoughts, as iron to lodestone, returning once again to Miranda.
How had she occupied herself during the day? She had refused his offer to go shopping or riding, and with most of Blakewell’s off-limits to women, even serving maids, she would have had very little to entertain her. None of his staff had mentioned her in any of their reports to him during the day, so she evidently had not been wandering the halls.
Had she remained in his private quarters, then? She had always liked to read, and there were certainly enough books to keep someone entertained for weeks. Extinguishing the lamps in his office, he made his way up the stairs and toward the back of the club. But when he knocked on the door, he received no answer.
He hesitated only a second, then pushed the door open and stepped inside. She was not there. A lunch tray had been left on the small table, the sauce of the fricassee having long since congealed into an unappetizing mass. The fire had died in the hearth; no lamps had been lit.
Had she fallen asleep? He checked inside the bedchamber, but it was empty as well. Where the devil had she gone? He stalked out into the hall and cornered the first footman he found.
“Have you seen Miss Thornwood?” he demanded.
The footman took one look at Jason’s face and shook his head vigorously. “No, Mr. Blakewell. I haven’t seen her all day.”
Jason nodded curtly and took the stairs two at a time to the first floor. He flung the door of Oliver Harvey’s office open with a bang. His steward sat at his desk, bent over a large pile of IOUs.
He looked up as Jason stalked inside.
“Good evening, Jason,” he said, blinking with concern when he saw Jason’s face. “Is everything well? We aren’t out of brandy, or anything equally dire?”
“Have you seen Miss Thornwood today?”
Oliver blinked again. “Not since this morning in your office,” he said. “I assumed she was in your suite.”
“She is not, and from the looks of it, she hasn’t been there since luncheon. You have not encountered her anywhere? None of the other staff have mentioned seeing her?”
Oliver set down his pen. “No, but I did not think to ask them.”
Jason ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Where the devil could she have