alert during the day. Thus, here he was with his friends, gleaning pleasure from the night while he could.
The clock crept toward one o’clock in the morning, and yet, judging by the throngs within the main chamber, the sun could have been at its zenith. Men in their evening finery and women adorned in jewels stood cheek by jowl at the tables offering hazard, vingt-et-un, and faro.
He nodded at the ethereal blonde woman who managed the club, and she snapped her fingers to summon a server carrying a tray of flutes of sparkling wine. She took the tray from the staff member’s hands and walked toward him.
“Cassandra,” he said warmly as she approached. “My dear, how can you be more lovely than all the ladies’ diamonds? You outshine them tenfold.”
“Your Grace is always so complimentary.” She handed him a glass before doing the same for Curtis, McCameron, and Rowe. “Planning on winning big tonight?”
“Haven’t decided, but I know of a certain that I will show my friends a splendid time.” He smirked at the trio drinking their phenomenally expensive wine. “Do try not to embarrass me, chaps.”
“We’d never dream of it,” Rowe answered.
“Not when you do such a marvelous job of it on your own,” McCameron added.
Cassandra’s eyebrows rose, no doubt shocked that a duke would permit anyone such liberties.
Noel only grinned. “Ingrates, the lot of you. I’m staking them tonight. There’s no limit to the amount. No arguments,” he added when all three of his friends made noises of objection. “It was my idea to come here, and it’s my responsibility to ensure you enjoy yourselves. So button it.”
“I’ll bring the chips, Your Grace.” Cassandra dipped into a curtsy before striding away.
“Staking us isn’t necessary,” McCameron said.
“We’ve been friends for two decades, you oaf,” Noel replied genially. “If I can’t guarantee my closest comrades a good time, then I consider myself utterly useless. Curtis, Rowe,” he said to the others. “Wend your way to the hazard table and stake unreasonable amounts. I need a few more of these”—he hefted his flute—“and then I’ll join you.”
Rowe and Curtis nodded, then moved toward the hazard table, where shouts of exultation mingled with groans of despair.
As he’d promised, Noel downed his sparkling wine in a few short swallows. The moment his glass was empty, a server appeared with a full one to replace it. Noel tucked a crown into the servant’s pocket, and the man stammered his astonished thanks.
“You’re burning as bright as Vauxhall fireworks tonight,” McCameron murmured when the servant hurried away.
Noel grinned. “A night out with my friends necessitates a grand display.”
“This display’s noisier than most.” McCameron studied him. “I’m not here to gamble, but I’d wager something’s on your mind.”
Curse McCameron for being an excellent soldier. Nothing escaped his notice.
At Noel’s pause, McCameron said, “Out with it. Or I’ll be forced to sing regimental songs at the top of my lungs and nobody wants to hear that.”
“Nothing we need to discuss.” When McCameron continued to bore into him with his gaze, he relented. “It’s about a woman.”
“Ah.” An internal struggle waged behind McCameron’s eyes, and Noel hated the shadows that lurked there, knowing they caused his friend pain. McCameron shook his head. “I can talk about women, you know. I’m not going to dissolve into a puddle of tears.”
Noel almost wished McCameron would weep. Surely that had to be better, more productive, than forcibly ignoring past pain.
“I meant what I said about singing regimental ditties,” McCameron said. “Unless you come clean and tell me about the woman that’s lit all of your fuses.”
There was no hope for it but to tell his friend everything. “I met a woman. She was . . .” How to explain the hawk of Bond Street?
The lady had possessed an angled jaw, which revealed her dynamic personality as much as the words that came from her lips. Her slightly arched dark brows had lifted in silent defiance when he’d challenged her, and he’d been enthralled by the energy and intelligence in her tawny eyes.
She hadn’t looked away. She hadn’t retreated in deference. Every word from her lips had been like a perfectly cut gem. Blow for blow, she’d met him, and damn him if that didn’t make her the most alluring person he’d encountered in a decade.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her,” he admitted.
“Who was she?”
Noel snorted a laugh. “Hell if I know. I got dragged down the street by a swarm of sycophants before I could learn her name or