Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,65

glass, wiping her mouth as she finished drinking.

The liquor burned her throat, and Ana Maria couldn’t help but cough. As soon as that was over, however, she felt a delicious warmth flowing through her body, her mouth tingling from the sting of the whiskey.

“Good, isn’t it?” Octavia said, pouring more into their glasses.

“I don’t think I should have any more,” Ana Maria said, clearing her throat.

Octavia squinted at her. “Because you don’t want any more or you think you shouldn’t have any more?”

Ana Maria tilted her head as she considered it. “Fine. One more, but then that’s it.”

The second drink went down smoother than the first, now that she knew what to expect, and that delicious warmth only increased, making her feel as though she were encased in soft cotton.

“Is this what it feels like to be drunk? All happy and floaty?” she asked, frowning at her friend.

Octavia shook her head. “It’s just a little bit of whiskey. I think you’re feeling proud and confident in your work.”

“Perhaps,” Ana Maria conceded. She did feel proud of what she’d done, of what she was planning to do. “Should we go back to the club? I want to see how your customers react to the new decorations.”

“Don’t expect them to say much,” Octavia warned. “They’re mostly interested in how much money they think they can win.”

“I want to gamble, too,” Ana Maria announced, getting to her feet. She gripped the arm of the chair she’d been sitting in, steadying herself. She smiled widely at Octavia, who returned the smile. “I think I like choosing what I want to do. And pink gowns and whiskey,” she added, giving her friend a wink.

Octavia laughed as they left the office and made their way back to the club.

Nash strode in to Miss Ivy’s with one goal: to get a drink. Certainly he could have stayed at home and accomplished the same thing, but here he was surrounded by people who were not his half siblings. He knew that most of them were grateful to have been rescued by him, but he did not want to be treated as though he had done anything beyond what should be done, even if nobody else had done it.

He blinked as he tried to figure out his own reasoning.

Stuff it, he wanted to leave the house, he could leave the house, and so here he was. Thirsty.

And she had mentioned Miss Ivy’s, which had made him wonder if she would be here as well. Not that that was why he had come out. But it had reminded him that he did like it here.

“Welcome, Your Grace.” The burly gentleman who’d nearly tossed Sebastian out the first time Nash brought him in greeted him with an expression of guarded respect. Likely because they were the only two men in the room who knew they could best everyone else in the room. Though that had yet to be put to the test.

Nash grunted in response, threading his way through the crowd to the small bar at the right-hand side of the room. There weren’t too many customers there, and most of them quickly glanced away when they met Nash’s eyes, which gratified him. He liked coming to Miss Ivy’s because there were people of so many different types here, ranging from clerks and merchants to country squires in town for some fun to what appeared to be some housekeepers and governesses. The rule in Miss Ivy’s was that anyone could enter as long as they could pay for their play.

And their drinks.

Nash sat down at the bar, waiting for the server to notice him.

“Good evening.”

He turned slowly at the sound of her voice, startled out of his fervent desire for a drink. Something only her presence could accomplish.

“You’re here,” he said, sounding incredibly stupid to his own ears. “Gambling?”

“I’m here for the decorations,” she replied, gesturing grandly toward the wall. He frowned in puzzlement, then glanced toward the wall, which did appear different from the last time he’d been here, not that he could figure out what had changed. Right. She’d mentioned something about redecorating, but he hadn’t paid too much attention. He’d been too focused on wanting to toss Lord Brunley and his perfectly coiffed head onto the ground.

“I didn’t do the work myself,” she explained, speaking in what sounded like a deliberately exaggerated tone of voice, “but I chose the fabrics.” She poked him in the shoulder. “From that place I was leaving when that man accosted me!” she