A Little Bit Scandalous Page 0,15

her out.

She asked for a card, then decided to stay with her hand. He looked at his own cards, took one, then another. Eighteen. She flipped hers over, revealing a twenty. She won. He handed her the deck for her deal.

“How long have you been playing?”

She dealt them each a hand. “Since I was young.”

He listened for signs of a French accent, but found none. That didn’t mean her family couldn’t be French. “Did your father teach you?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“My father didn’t teach me, either. It was a mate from school. He was originally from France, but he ended up at Eton. I’ve been playing ever since.” She was quite crafty at avoiding lengthy conversations. Perhaps she was shy, but he suspected it was more to hide her identity. He wasn’t deterred by her short answers. “Have you been in London long?”

Briefly, her eyes—lovely brown eyes—flickered to his, then she looked back down at the table. There was something about those eyes, something oddly familiar. “Your Grace, I’d prefer to focus my attention on my cards.”

“Very well.” So, conversation was not going to work. He’d need another tactic. They played in silence for several hands, her winning some, him winning the others. She truly was a worthy opponent. He almost hated to unveil her identity since doing so would most certainly mean the end of their rivalry.

Chapter Four

Caroline did her very best to focus on her cards and the ones coming out of the deck. She felt certain she had an accurate count, but damnation if Roe wouldn’t stop talking. And damnation also that the lighting in his study was so much clearer and brighter than it had been at Rodale’s. She could see his features all the more, which meant he could see her features as well. He was still as bloody handsome as she remembered him being, if not more so. And just as cavalier.

She should never have accepted this invitation. Should never have come here. Her foolish pride and arrogance is what brought her here. She was determined to beat him, to walk out of his house with a fatter purse. Winning money from him somehow would mean more. But that was asinine. His money was no different than any other man’s.

Only two more days until she could see the state of her family home, and then she’d truly know what kind of funds she needed. Until then, she’d keep playing and winning. But for tonight, she could play only a few more hands. His scrutiny was making her nervous, and she was far more likely to make a mathematical error when she was addled.

She checked her hand—a six and a four. He’d stayed with his, not asking for any additional cards, so she knew he had a good hand.

“How many women have you bedded?”

Her breath caught in her throat. Good heavens. Was that truly what men discussed? Was it a common question, common information shared? What should she say? She thought she could easily pass for a boy of twenty. How many women should a man of twenty have bedded? She had no notion of the appropriate range. One? Four? Four seemed an awful lot for a boy of twenty.

She looked back at her cards, still a six and a four. She dealt herself another card, a ten. “I don’t believe that’s necessary,” she said in hopes he’d drop the subject.

Roe nodded knowingly. “Ah, I see, you are still a virgin.” He gave her a smirk.

“That is not what I said.” Arguing with him made no sense. There was no need to defend Mr. Grey, he did not exist, so it mattered not how many women he would have bedded.

“But your refusal to answer the question is answer enough.”

“Faulty logic,” Caroline said, careful to lower the tone of her voice. She should make an excuse and get the hell out of there before her disguise was destroyed.

“You’re being evasive,” he said, looking up at her face, but she refused to meet his gaze. “And you’re blushing.”

She pushed back her chair and stood. “I should be going now.”

He stood also. He was between her and the door in seconds, moving faster than she would have thought possible for a man of his size. “But we’ve barely begun playing.”

There was a double meaning in his voice. Panic pulsed through her veins, but she pushed it aside. Had he seen through her disguise? He couldn’t know who she was, because that would most certainly mean the