A Lady’s Trust Callie Hutton (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud txt) 📖

He pulled out his ledgers, ready to work. Before Amelia he couldn’t concentrate on his work because of an odd lack of interest. Now he couldn’t concentrate because Miss Amelia Pence had taken over his thoughts. Hell, she’d taken over his entire being.

She arrived while he was at last busy at work.

“What can I do to help?” She stood in front of his desk, her bright smile in place, and all he wanted to do was push the papers onto the floor and pull her across the desk.

He sat back, putting at least some distance between them. “Before we begin, I feel as though I should apologize for last night. I make it a point to not dally with my employees. Ever. And I should not have kissed you last night. I can assure you it will not happen again.”

Luckily, she did not mention that last night was not the first time he kissed her. Instead, she smiled and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “You are an honorable man, Mr. Rose. I can assure you I do not feel the need for an apology. If we were to be honest, I was as much involved in our encounter as you were.”

Whatever did that mean? That she approved of what he’d done? He decided to try once more. He stood and walked around the desk. He rested his hip on the edge of the desk in front of her, and took her hand, linking their fingers together. “Can you please tell me what or who you are running from? There is no point in denying it because it’s clear you are a lady, raised to have the sort of life most ladies of Quality have. Yet here you are working in a gaming club.”

She gave a soft sigh. “I do not think you a stupid man. Of course, I realize you know there is something I am keeping from you, but for now I am not comfortable discussing it. Can you just accept that I am an employee of The Rose Room, and just want to do the best job I can?”

No, he did not want to accept that for several reasons, but she was leaving him no choice. He wanted her nearby. He wanted to protect her from whatever it was she was dealing with. He wanted to court her in a proper, acceptable manner. Above board, in public, not hidden in the shadows of the club. He might even want to take her to various ton events. Hold her in his arms as they danced, stroll in a darkened garden with her, or one of the paths at the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. All the things he’d eschewed for the last several years.

He looked down at their joined hands. As much as he hated having no control, and with everything inside of him chaffing at her request, if he wanted her, he would have to proceed on her terms. He glanced up at her bright blue eyes and smiled. “Let’s get to work, then.”

11

Amelia glanced at the clock once again. Only three minutes had passed since the last time she checked. It was nearing nine o’clock, the time she would go down to the game floor and begin working.

She paced as she waited for Driscoll to arrive. He wanted to bring her down, introduce her to those employees she had not yet met, and then have her deal a couple of hands before they officially opened the doors at nine-thirty.

A quick glimpse at the mirror over the dressing table caused her to pause and assess herself. She was dressed in a dark red satin gown, snug over her belly and pulled into the back into a slight bustle. Black lace covered the center of the bodice all the way to the hem. The neckline was proper enough, and the slightly puffed short sleeves were trimmed with the same black lace.

The frock had recently been made by the dressmaker who had arrived at her room the week before to measure her. Driscoll had insisted that the new dresses she’d bought on her shopping trip with him would not do for her to wear while working.

He pointed out that all the men wore formal evening attire, and she should as well. This gown was stunning, nothing like she’d ever owned. She would have felt more properly dressed had she been able to wear long gloves, but since she needed to use her hands to deal cards, she’d been given elbow length black lace gloves with the fingertips open.

Driscoll had sent Margie up to help her dress and do her hair. She was still embarrassed over the special treatment she was receiving, but he rightly pointed out that as the only female employee on the game room floor, she was setting a precedent.

Margie had parted her hair in the center, then softly pulled the mass of curls back, fixing it into a loose, but well anchored chignon at the crown, with a wisp of loose curls dangling from her temples.

She wore no jewelry, since she owned none, except the lovely strand of pearls her stepfather had given her when she turned eighteen. They’d been confiscated by Randolph when she arrived in London and most likely sold by now.

A slight knock on the door interrupted her musings. Taking a deep breath, she walked across the room and opened the door. Driscoll stood on the other side offering an encouraging smile. Since he was to spend time on the game room floor tonight, he was also dressed in formal evening attire.

He looked stunning. A curl from his dark hair fell on his forehead, giving him a rakish look. A well-cut black formal suit fit him perfectly, outlining his masculine form. He wore a silver and white waistcoat, with a black silk ascot tied smartly at his throat.

Her mouth dried up and her breathing hitched.

“You look beautiful, Amelia.” He bent over her hand as