would select me. My father told me of it. Did you make a bet on the matter?”
“It would be unethical for me to do so when I was the one who would determine the outcome. It would have also been unfair for me to tell my brother. Knowing what was written in the betting book at White’s, I kept my decision to myself, told no one, not even my best mates.”
“Oh yes, of course.” She knotted her hands in her lap. “I didn’t know he hadn’t collected on it. Would you have paid him if no one else did?”
“I always honor my debts. I wonder where he’s been.”
She wondered as well, then cursed her blasted curiosity. She was spending the evening with a man who had never taken advantage of what he knew about her to benefit himself. Mr. Griffith Stanwick shouldn’t occupy her thoughts. Yet, she seemed unable not to think about him.
After their brief discourse regarding the wager, they watched the play in silence, and then journeyed home with nary a word spoken. When they reached the manor, he asked her to wait with him a moment for a quiet word while her maid carried on into the residence. But he didn’t give her a quiet word. He gave her a kiss. A brief one to be sure, a mere passing of his lips over hers, but it was the first time he’d taken such liberties. She couldn’t deny that her heart had certainly sped up, but there was no fluttering in her stomach, no weakening of her knees, no curling of her toes—none of the visceral sensations she’d experienced when Griff had kissed her, but then his had been the kiss of a scoundrel, not a gentleman.
If she was wise, she’d toss out every memory of Griffith Stanwick she possessed. She certainly shouldn’t make any effort to compare the duke to him.
Chapter 11
June 1, 1874
Six weeks later, with no ball or soiree scheduled for the evening, Kingsland in Yorkshire as he’d predicted, and her parents visiting Paris, Kathryn went to the Elysium Club, a gaming hell for ladies—or at least the ladies assumed it was close to being one that rivaled those the men in their lives frequented. Kathryn suspected it was a bit posher than its counterpart for men because it didn’t resemble her idea of hell in the least. But Aiden Trewlove had certainly taken great pains to ensure his establishment reflected women’s fantasies.
The gaming room was softly lit. Handsome gents in evening attire wandered through offering advice on strategy, a light touch on a shoulder, or just a smile. Other rooms provided different entertainments—food, dancing, foot rubs—but Kathryn preferred this one because while they might occasionally flirt, the gentlemen weren’t delivering so much attention as to be distracting, and within these walls, it was never completely quiet. Clacking dice, spinning wheels, and the shuffling of cards created a cacophony that served as a backdrop for the gossip that was often shared during play.
Her favorite game was vingt-et-un. The rules were simple: accumulating cards, striving to reach a value of twenty-one or as near to it as possible without going over. She’d acquired her membership here shortly after that fateful night when Kingsland had announced her name. She’d heard of the club, had been curious about it, and had decided that if she was to soon marry, she should do everything she’d ever wanted to before she exchanged vows in case her husband had objections to his wife being entertained in such a scandalous manner. Now, however, she suspected she could continue to come here, and he wouldn’t care one whit. Her marriage would very likely resemble the one her parents had before they fell in love. She couldn’t quite envision Kingsland plastering her against walls and devouring her. He had yet to strike her as a man who would lose control of himself or a situation.
“Lady Kathryn?”
She glanced up at the dealer, studied her cards, nodded. “Yes, I’ll have another.”
Then she smiled as the card he dealt her left her two shy of twenty-one. “I’ll stop here.”
He moved on to the lady beside her, one who wore a domino mask. Some of the members preferred a disguise because for various reasons they wanted to keep their identity secret, but Kathryn didn’t care who knew she was here. She wasn’t going to slink about as though ashamed of her behavior when she wasn’t. The one thing she could claim with certainty regarding her relationship with