The Lady Gambles. Carole Mortimer

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      Caro shot him a sideways glance from beneath her unadorned brown bonnet, only a few of her golden curls now showing at her temples and nape. The brown gown she wore beneath her own serviceable black cloak was equally as modest in appearance, with its high neckline and long sleeves.

      She had bought three such gowns when she’d arrived in London two weeks ago, this brown one, another in a dull green, and the third of dark cream, having very quickly realised that the few silk gowns she had brought to town with her stood out noticeably in the genteelly rundown area of London where she had managed to find clean and inexpensive lodgings. And being noticed—as herself, rather than as the masked lady singing at Nick’s—was something she dearly wished to avoid.

      To say that Dominic had been surprised—yet again!—by Caro Morton’s appearance on joining him a few minutes ago would be an understatement. In fact, it had taken him several seconds to recognise her beneath that unbecoming brown bonnet that hid most of those glorious golden curls, and the equally unfashionable cloak that covered her from neck to ankle, so giving her every appearance of being a modest and unassuming young lady of meagre means.

      That dark modesty of her clothing opened up a third possibility as to why Caro Morton was living alone in London and so obviously in need of work in order to support herself. Her slender hands were completely bare of rings, but that did not mean she was not one of those starry-eyed young ladies who, during the years of war against Napoleon, had abandoned all propriety by eloping with their unsuitable soldier beau before he marched off to battle, only to find themselves widowed within weeks, sometimes days, of that scandalous marriage having taken place.

      No matter what the explanation, there was certainly very little danger of any of the patrons of Nick’s recognising this drably dressed young woman as the ebony-haired siren whose seductive performance had so easily bewitched and beguiled them all so completely twice this evening.

      Himself included, he readily admitted.

      ‘Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to why an unprotected young woman should choose to work in one of London’s fashionable gambling clubs?’

      It was a question she seemed to have been expecting as her expression remained cool. ‘For the money, perhaps?’

      Dominic scowled. ‘If you must work, then why did you not find more respectable employment? You have the refinement to be a lady’s maid, or, failing that, to serve in a shop.’

      ‘How kind of you to say so,’ she returned over-sweetly. ‘But one needs references from previous employers to become either of those things. References I do not have,’ she added pointedly.

      ‘Perhaps because you have never worked as a lady’s maid or served in a shop?’ he pressed.

      ‘Or perhaps I was just so inadequate at both those occupations that I was refused references?’ she suggested tartly.

      Dominic gave an appreciative smile at her spirited answer. ‘So instead you have chosen to put yourself in a position where you are ogled by dozens of licentious men every night?’

      Caro came to an abrupt halt, her own humour fading at the deliberate insult, both in his tone and expression, as he paused beside her in the flickering lamplight and allowed that silver gaze to rake over her critically from her head to her toes. ‘It appears that I needed no references for that,’ she informed him with chilling hauteur.

      Dominic knew that it really was none of his concern if she chose to expose herself to the sort of ribald comments he had been forced to listen to following her second performance this evening, when the bets as to who would eventually become her lover and protector had increased to a level he had found most unpleasant. And yet … ‘Do you have so little regard for your reputation?’

      Her cheeks became flushed. ‘The jewelled mask I wear ensures my reputation remains perfectly intact, thank you!’

      ‘Perhaps.’ Dominic’s jaw tightened. ‘I am surprised you did not consider a less … taxing means of employment.’

      She looked puzzled. ‘Less taxing?’

      He shrugged. ‘You are young. The comments of your numerous admirers this evening are testament to your desirability. Did you not consider acquiring a single male protector, rather than exposing yourself in this way to the attentions of dozens?’

      Caro felt the flush that warmed her cheeks. ‘A protector, my lord?’

      ‘A man who would see you housed and suitably clothed in exchange for the pleasure of your … company,’ he elaborated.

      Caro’s breath caught in her throat, that flush covering the whole of her body now as she realised that the earl was suggesting she should have taken a lover when she arrived in London rather than ‘singing for her supper’ at Nick’s.

      A lover!

      When Caro’s father had been so averse to any of his three daughters appearing in London society that he had not even allowed any of them to have so much as a Season, but instead had kept them all secluded at his estate in Hampshire. Had ensured his daughters were so overprotected that Caro had never even been alone with a young gentleman until now.

      Although that description was hardly appropriate in regard to the arrogant Dominic Vaughn; that scar upon his otherwise handsome face, and the mockery that glittered now in those narrowed silver-coloured eyes, proclaimed him to be a gentleman in possession of a cynicism and experience that far exceeded his calendar years …

      ‘I believe it would not be merely my company that would be of interest in such an arrangement, my lord.’ She arched pert blonde brows.

      Dominic was beginning to wish that he had never broached this particular subject. Indeed, he had no idea why he was taking such an interest in the fate of this particular young woman. Perhaps his sense of chivalry was not as dead as he had believed it to be? ‘Surely the attentions of one man would be preferable to being undressed, mentally at least, by dozens of men, night after night?’ he bit out harshly.

      Her gasp was audible. ‘You are attempting to shock me, sir!’

      Yes, he was. Deliberately. ‘I am attempting to stress, madam, how foolishly you are behaving by repeatedly placing yourself in such a vulnerable position.’

      Her eyes widened indignantly. ‘I assure you, sir, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am in absolutely no danger—’ Dominic put an end to this ridiculous claim by the simple act of pulling her effortlessly into his arms and taking masterful possession of the surprised parting of her lips.

      He did it as a way of demonstrating the vulnerability of which he spoke. As a way of showing Caro how easily a man—any man—could take advantage of her delicacy. How the slenderness of her tiny body was no match for a man bent on stealing a kiss. Or worse!

      He curved that willowy body against his much harder one as he took possession of the softness of those parted lips. With deliberate sensuality, his tongue swept moistly across her bottom lip before exploring farther, his hands moving in a light caress down the slenderness of her back before cupping her bottom and pulling her even more firmly against him as that marauding tongue took possession of the hot cavern of her mouth. Thrusting. Jousting. Demanding her response.

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