does anyone sit at a card table?”
“I don’t wish to play cards.”
“I do wish to, and you are the only one here aside from Sacks and Harris.”
“I’m quite certain either of them would be happy to oblige.”
Sacks and Harris were happy to participate in most any kind of amusement, but that was hardly the point. Winston paused. Stared at her. “You are in my employ, are you not?”
“Indeed I am, Your Grace, but I’ll not allow you to win away my advance earnings.”
“Ah, I see.” He pointed across the room. “Go look in that box. Bring it here.” He sat down and shuffled the deck, letting himself watch her legs as she walked over to the side table and retrieved the gilt box where he kept his coins. He watched her peek inside, thought he saw her physically react to the sight of the contents.
Interesting.
“We’ll use those,” he told her. “I shall even allow you to keep your winnings.” He would probably do well to let her win a few rounds, if only to avoid upsetting the person who held the incision knife. “We’ll consider it extra wages.”
She carried the box to the table, struggling visibly with its weight in a way a man would not have.
“You shouldn’t be sitting up,” she said sourly as she took the seat across from him.
He gestured to her to cut, and he followed, cutting the high card. Dealing put him at a disadvantage, but that was no matter in this case. “Tell me, Mr. Germain,” he said as he dealt the cards, “what exactly are the supposed benefits of your strict regimen of boredom and sexual frustration?”
“If you’re frustrated, it’s only because you surround yourself with reminders.” Her eyes stayed on her cards as she deftly sorted her hand. “Put away your knickknacks, and you will forget all about whatever you might be missing.”
“Much as they do in monasteries, hmm? I have to wonder how effective that strategy really is. Lust is a powerful force—certainly you’ve found that to be the case.”
“Indeed.” Her gaze fixed on his face, and he found her directness a bit unnerving. “I’ve found it can quite consume a man whose mind does not naturally lean toward substantive lines of thinking.”
He felt his lips twitch. “Perhaps you could share some examples of substantive thinking.”
“I would never presume to advise you on that subject.” She selected three cards from her hand, placed them facedown, and drew three replacements. “Certainly you are creative enough to find ways to occupy yourself until you’ve recovered.”
“Mmm.” He exchanged four of his own cards, deliberately discarding one that might have proved helpful. “Yes, I would say I’ve been described as somewhat creative.”
She raised her eyes from her cards. “Healthful ways of occupying yourself.”
“Such as?”
“I cannot pretend to know how men of leisure amuse themselves, but no doubt they have any number of interests and pastimes. Reading, for example.”
“Indeed. I read an amusing little novel last week about a young woman who fell prey to a libertine’s seduction and found a new life that she enjoyed to the fullest—although read may not be precisely the right word. There were an abundance of illustrations.”
“Some men read about scientific topics,” she said sternly, “or they read literature.”
“Do they.”
“Or they engage themselves in political subjects. You must have any number of political obligations demanding your attention.”
“I suppose I do, occasionally. It would seem you know more about men of leisure than you thought, Mr. Germain.”
“Some men enjoy horticulture, collecting insects, observing the fauna of a particular region,” she continued, completely ignoring his remark. “You could make a study of the natural world during your journey to Greece.”
“And yet I’m told at every turn that my efforts to...study the natural world are detrimental to my health and my soul.”
“There are any number of fascinating birds that dwell around the Greek isles.”
He couldn’t resist a grin. “Or on them.”
“I was not speaking with a double entendre, Your Grace.”
“Pity.”
They finished the hand. She came away the winner—and would have done even had he not exchanged that high card. On the start of the next hand, she had the dealer’s disadvantage.
She dealt the cards with an efficient familiarity, and he decided perhaps he would keep his advantageous cards this time.
“Tell me, Miles—you don’t mind if I address you as Miles, do you?—despite your disapproval of lusty pursuits and the double entendre, I’ll wager you’ve enjoyed a few women while you’ve been in Paris.”
“That isn’t something that I normally discuss—”
“Confess. At least one Parisienne has welcomed you to France with open thighs.”
“Not one, sir.”
“Not one? I find that very odd for a man of your obvious youth and vigor.”
“Not every man is entirely preoccupied with women—”
“Ah, I see. You prefer men. I do wish you’d told me before I sent Perry away. He had some thoughts about a possible companion whose company you may well have enjoyed—”
“That is not what I meant.” And now her temper was starting to rise, and her brown eyes that seemed so plain earlier took on a tigress sort of luster. “If you must know, in fact, I have enjoyed a woman or two in Paris.”
It was a blatant lie, of course, yet the very idea of it sent a lick of flame through his groin. He’d wager his entire collection of statuary that she’d never even enjoyed a man, let alone— Good God.
He reached for his drink. “Well, well, Miles, I daresay all this puritanical advice of yours is hypocrite’s talk.”
“Medical advice,” she corrected. “Besides, I am a man, after all.”
No. She was a woman, and a fairly young one, and despite her apparent skill at cards, almost certainly an untried one. Which meant he would not be having any real entertainment with her—not that he had any real desire to—because contrary to popular belief, he did have a code of ethics: no virgins.
It wasn’t as if he was seducing his way through England’s crop of young hopefuls and leaving a trail of ruination in his wake. Which was more than could be said of any number of men he knew.
The truth was, he was already a moral citizen. Edward ought to have been praising Winston’s restraint all these years instead of quietly suggesting that Winston reevaluate his priorities.
Change—and that vow—were entirely uncalled-for.
They finished the hand, and once again she bested him. Four more, and she’d won the game. Utterly trounced him.
She watched him with impassive eyes as he pushed a pile of coins across the table.
He raised a brow at her. “It would seem you learned more than just sailing during your four years at sea, Mr. Germain.”
* * *
IT WAS LATE when Millie finally returned to her room with a pocketful of coins.
The house was quiet, all the servants asleep.
But there was one person who was not asleep. She stared at the wall of her dressing room and imagined him just on the other