Chapter 18 Livy
Livy
Livy was nearly jumping out of her skin. She was going to play Ving-et-Un. Not just play with the servants, wagering shortbread biscuits—though that was no trifling matter. Shortbread was serious business. But today? She was going to play for coin. In a gaming hell.
She’d always joined the boys’ card games, but only ever as an observer. It wasn’t a ladylike pursuit…or so she’d thought. Warren had certainly made it clear he didn’t believe women should play. She remembered when Quint had suggested she join them once…
“A nice thought, Quinton, but this would be too much for Liv here. Mastering the strategy of the game, coupled with the rapid mental calculations…” Warren had chuckled. “No, no. We don’t want to overtax her.”
And the world they lived in didn’t even allow for her to correct him.
Livy'd sat there and forced a smile because women weren’t allowed to have intelligence.
She needed to fit the narrative society had created, even more so because she didn’t fit it.
And watch him make poor choices for his own hand.
Yet it hadn’t been enough. All those years trying to fashion herself into a woman befitting a viscount, employing the direction of her governess, noting every small comment Warren made—hadn’t mattered.
Because not only did she not fit society’s mold, she also didn’t exist in society’s eyes.
Someone who lacked good standing and good breeding.
Good breeding. She hated that phrase. Like she was a prized pony. Trot, trot, trot.
She glanced at the man at her side. Lord Dunmore didn’t care.
She didn’t think he cared about anything society expected—demanded.
Which, she supposed, explained his notorious reputation.
She wrinkled her nose. She never thought she’d find that a redeemable quality in a person, but she found she sided with Lord Dunmore on this one.
He had no qualms about her having more than feathers in her head. Why couldn’t society?
“So, Mr. Drake…” Livy said as they entered a new hall. “He owns this gaming hell?”
“Yes.”
Her mind drifted back to the man in his study. “When I was brought to his…study…” Her cheeks heated, and she peeked at Lord Dunmore, her gaze tracing over his sharp jaw. “He…”
“He…” Lord Dunmore glanced at her, and she quickly looked away.
“He had a man on his lap. A n-naked one,” she said in a hushed voice.
Lord Dunmore chuckled. “Yes, Ryker does not…discriminate…in his bedpartners.”
“But isn’t that illegal?”
Silence.
When she glanced back at Lord Dunmore, his jaw was set in a hard line. Even from his profile, she could discern the severity of his frown.
“The law isn’t always correct,” he said at last, his voice so sharp, so abrupt, she flinched. “It wastes its time on matters it shouldn’t. If two consenting adults want to be together, who is England to say they shouldn’t?”
Well, that seemed quite logical.
His lip curled up. “Yet, children can be abandoned, abused. Spouses can be unfaithful, cruel, and the law’s punishments are pitiful—if they exist at all. A parent beats their children, and it is an acceptable form of discipline. It’s applauded.”
He shook his head, his overlong black hair flying. When his eyes met hers, they were hard—green bleeding into black. “Instead, they focus on an issue that doesn’t exist. Why? Power? Greed? Because they don’t understand it? This world we live in loves to hate. That much I know for certain.”
Livy gnawed on her lip. She wasn’t sure if the world truly loved to hate.
It was an awfully cynical take on life. But it fit Lord Dunmore.
Fit what she’d read about him. She couldn’t deny the points he made.
It would be awfully hypocritical of her to be adamant the world shouldn’t have a say in how she lived her life—only to condemn others for the way they lived theirs.
“Mr. Drake has created a…space within a space…hidden amongst the velvet and vice, safe for people of all walks of life,” Lord Dunmore continued.
“There’s the gaming room, the brothel, everything one might expect of a place such as this.
And then there is the Other Side. A place where it is safe for those society deems shouldn’t exist purely based on who they love. ”
She’d never thought this man—arrogant, rude, cutting—would be hiding such a loving heart. She wasn’t so sure the man himself knew he possessed it. And another part of her wondered if there might be something more personal woven into his words. The pain in his voice felt…a little too real.
“Not all of us love to hate,” she said quietly.
“I agree with you. I’m not sure why anyone puts restrictions on love.
” Her thoughts drifted back to her mother.
Leaving Papa, leaving Livy. Because they’d been deemed unworthy.
Lacking value. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like if we all could simply be loved as we are.
He may be intimidating, but I think it’s admirable what Mr. Drake is doing. ”
A smile, one of his mocking varieties, broke through Lord Dunmore’s gloomy visage. “Ryker…admirable?” He snorted. “Christ, don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go straight to his already inflated head.”
They paused in front of a door.
“All right. Are you ready, little mouse? Just through that door is the gaming room.”
She nodded, a bit overenthusiastically, drawing another chuckle from him.
“Our night begins.” He pushed open the door.
They stepped inside…
And Livy couldn’t find words.
The space was magnificent. The ceiling…didn’t even appear to be a ceiling.
It towered above, multiple stories high, painted to look like the night sky.
Intricate black molding bordered each painting, with massive glittering chandeliers hanging from them, illuminating the space, giving off the impression of fiery stars against a midnight sky.
Each wall was made up of a collection of arches that blended into the molding on the ceiling.
Deep midnight blue silk hung from each arch.
There were countless doors that led to other areas outside the gaming hall, just like the one she and Lord Dunmore had stepped through.
The floor was filled with an array of tables covered in a deep forest-green baize.
A few tables had a wheel with black and white slots.
A large wooden structure of gleaming ebony stood in the middle of the space, something akin to a bar, though much more refined in appearance.
It was mesmerizing.
And then there were the people.
Beautifully adorned people. Scantily clad people.
Gone were the muted hues of London’s ballrooms; in their place, daring color and risqué fashions.
Some women masked, some not. Even some men wore masks.
A woman and gentleman walked past, the woman wearing an ebony silk mask.
Heat hit Livy’s cheeks. The woman only wore a sheer slip of fabric—with nothing underneath.
The two slipped through a door, the man’s hands already roving over the woman before the door even swung shut.
Livy’s wide-eyed gaze found Lord Dunmore’s, and his wolfish grin was fully in place.
“Was she…? A…”—Livy leaned forward and lifted her brows meaningfully—“You know.”
Lord Dunmore’s grin grew wider, and he blinked innocently. “A what?”
Her expression went flat, and she glared at him. “You know what I’m referring to.”
He chuckled. “No, she’s not a prostitute. Just a woman who wants to have a good time.”
Livy eyed him, and the monstrous bed in his private chambers flitted through her mind. She wondered how often Lord Dunmore had a good time with women here. She shook her head. No matter, that was no concern of hers.
“Shall we secure refreshments and settle at a card table?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this. But that sounds like a lovely idea.” Livy headed in the direction of a card table that had a few empty seats. She looked back over her shoulder, her lips curving into a smirk. “Fetch me a whisky, will you?”
Lord Dunmore’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. She turned around to hide her chuckle and hurried to the table. She hadn’t known what to expect tonight, but thus far she was extremely happy with her decision to come.
Livy couldn’t stop smiling. And she couldn’t stop winning.
There was a large pile of coins in front of her.
In front of Lord Dunmore too. Lord Dunmore hadn’t seemed at all surprised by her success, and they’d quickly fallen into a competition of who could win the most. Lord Dunmore’s pile was slightly larger.
Livy peered discreetly at him from the corner of her eye. But she was gaining on him.
The dealer turned to her, her turn to hit or stay.
She worried her lip and glanced down at her cards.
A pair of tens. Her attention fell on Lord Dunmore’s cards.
A four and a five. Livy didn’t know if it was the whisky, the heady excitement that was palpable in the gaming room, or if she was becoming addicted to taking risks, but she did something that anyone who knew the rules of Ving-et-Un would never do.
“Split them.”
The dealer’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Lord Dunmore. Like the man spoke for Livy. Livy’s brows snapped together. “I said, split them.”
She glanced at Lord Dunmore. His lips were tilted up in a soft half-smile, and he was shaking his head. He leaned over until his lips brushed her ear. “I know what you’re doing. Perhaps little mouse wasn’t right for you after all. Minx is much more fitting.”
Her heart stuttered, but she covered it up with a saccharine smile. “What exactly am I doing, my lord?” She fluttered her lashes innocently at him.
Those eyes were knowing as they caressed her features. “Stealing my face cards. Clever girl.”