Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Annabelle waited until the house was quiet before she pulled the hidden bundle out from under her bed.
She removed her night-rail to don the breeches and boots she’d procured, then bound her breasts as flat as possible and pulled on the bulky shirt and jacket, tying a cravat as neatly as she knew to tie Papa’s.
She pinned her braids tight to her head, leaving side strands she’d trimmed to pull back into a short sort of tail, then donned a cap to hide the rest. In the mirror, she rubbed ash on her chin and upper lip, for just a shade of manliness.
She surveyed her appearance. Not quite apprentice and not quite titled young man, she looked somewhere in between. So long as she kept her head down, her speech to a minimum, and her gait a loose swagger, she’d pass.
And pass she did, for a mere two hours later, Annabelle could not believe her good fortune.
Or rather, Bartholomew Brown’s fortune. Her alter ego was winning big at vingt-et-un just like she’d known he would.
Oh, she let him lose a few rounds to throw the other players off his scent, but Bart was a cool cucumber—even the ladies liked him.
One in particular kept blowing kisses over his cards for luck.
Pride filled Annabelle’s chest. If this was how Papa had felt the times he’d won she understood what drove him back, because the rush was incredible. Intoxicating! And she, as dashing Bart Brown, was invincible.
“Ooh, Mr. Brown,” an admirer cooed at Annabelle’s ear. “Steady now, lad, you’ve got ’im by the bollocks, reel ’im in.” The lady’s tongue shockingly caressed Bart’s lobe.
Annabelle shivered; this was a bit much. It was also distracting her from counting. Moreover, the lady wore far too much perfume. Yet before she could politely ask the miss to step back, another voice hissed low in her other ear, sending a different shiver down her spine.
“Finish it,” Arthur Harris ordered. “And then you walk—no fuss, no scene.” His bruising grip on Annabelle’s arm left no room for disagreement.
“A lucky young man indeed this night,” he loudly announced above her head. “Though we’ve a matter t’ discuss in private, regarding accounts. If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.”
Annabelle didn’t dare attempt to shake Mr. Harris off. Instead, she swept her earnings into a pile, met her opponent’s eye with a nod, and pocketed her winnings.
“Aw, Mr. Brown, do stay, luv!” pleaded the perfumed lady.
“Next time, Lottie.” Harris brushed the woman off. “Find another guest to entertain.” He prodded Annabelle to start moving, which she did, her head held high.
The moment they left the hall, however, he marched her straight into his office and shut the door behind him, making Annabelle flinch. Only she was not Bella, she was Bart. And Bartholomew Brown feared no one.
She kept her voice gruff. “What seems to be the matter with my account, sir?”
“Drop the act, Bella.”
“My name, sir, is Bartholomew—”
***
Harris yanked the cap from her head and pulled her by the scruff of her cravat to within an inch of his face, dangling her another inch off the floor.
She let out a most unmasculine squeak.
“Soot, Bella, really?” His lips twitched. “In a dim lit hall, mayhap, but woman, no amount of ash t’ yer fair face will evoke a man’s shadow.” He broke into a grin before he laughed outright, relaxing somewhat his grip.
She squirmed to escape him but he tightened his hold. “I had the rest convinced.” She met his eyes. “Your ladies even favored me.”
Harris pulled her so close her nose brushed his chest. “I pay them to favor winners, Bella. Who do you think alerted me to your table?” The chit really didn’t know a damned thing, he thought, realizing he was gripping an innocent miss rather harshly by her throat. He eased up.
“I did no one harm,” she defended herself. “I let others win too. I played a fair game, so you’ve no right to—”
“Y’ counted yer way to yer wins, miss, which in my book ain’t fair, ’tis called cheatin’. Moreover, I don’t allow women in me hall.”
“I saw plenty of women in your hall!”
“Like to be one of them women, miss? Whores who service me tables and then service men upstairs, in bed, fer coin?
Her face bloomed scarlet but he didn’t care. She needed scaring.
“D’you know what might’ve happened had you been found out, Bella dear? All chance at marriage to any one o’ them gentlemen out there ruined the moment someone pulled yer cap from yer head.”
“I’ve no wish to marry.” She reminded him with force. “I wish to be free.”
“Your freedom is only gained through marriage,” he countered. “It’s either that or sell yer body.”
Her face fell precipitously before it darkened ominously. “Why are you so interested in my well-being, Mr. Harris?” She pinned him with fresh, determined eyes.
“I believe you approached me, miss, with yer proposition.”
“Why did you give me your card at my sister’s wedding?”
Harris’s thoughts scrambled.
“Did my brother-in-law put you up to this, sir?”
Fuck.
“Does my sister know about this?”
“Listen, miss, I know nothing at all about yer—”
“Blast.” She stomped her foot.
“Did you just swear, Miss Winthrop?” He stifled a smirk.
“Bartholomew Brown does indeed swear and gamble and flirt with ladies, Mr. Harris. And if you’d let well enough alone out there he would have—”
“Cleaned me out o’ house an’ home, I’m sure.” Harris was amused, aroused, and now all sorts of entertained. “Damnation, Bella, you are one—”
He stopped himself.
“One what?” She glared back, hands on hips outlined so perfectly in those snug breeches Harris had to shake himself straight. “I am goin’ to take yer home now an’—”
***
“No.” Annabelle stood her ground. She’d not come this far for nothing.
“What do you mean, no?” Mr. Harris crossed his arms, cutting a most fine figure, blast him.
“You will do nothing, sir. For you are not my keeper, regardless of what brother Jasper says. I will see myself home, and you will not breathe a word of this to anyone or so help me I will … I’ll …”
She could not come up with a single executable threat, damnation.
Harris stepped close enough to scald her with his gaze.
“You will do exactly as I say, miss.” His lips brushed her jawline as he spoke low into her ear.
“And not because your brother-in-law asked me to deal with you, but because you entered my place of business, flouted my rules at cards, and then cheated shamelessly at my bloody tables. Do you know what I do with guests who disrespect my house, Bella, hmm?”
His breath was hot on her cheek, his hands hot at her waist now too.
“If they are gentlemen, I settle it as gentlemen do, at dawn with pistols, or I tip them off to the coppers and land them a while in gaol. But a girl as fetching as you, well…” She heard him lick his lips.
“I put her to work t’ pay off her debt. Would you like that, pretty Bella? To pay off yer debt in service t’ me?”
She gasped, panic flooding her chest along with something else she could not name.
“Annabelle,” he whispered seductively into her ear, “answer me.”
“No,” she got out weakly, her legs beginning to fail as he steadied her waist, his hands slipping lower than they ought.
She froze, and he swiftly stepped back.
“Good,” he told her brusquely. “I’ll find you more respectable clothing before I drive you home and inform your father of your—”
“Arthur, please.” Her heart galloped in her breast. “Deliver me home only do not tell Papa. He mustn’t know.
I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll do your books for free, only please do not tell him.
” If her father knew of this, he’d marry her to Finch tomorrow.
“Baron of Milton need never know either, I’ll do anything to—”
“Anything, Bella?” He harshly cut her off. “Take care what you offer, miss, for a man less than myself might turn such offer into somethin’ else.”
She backed away. “I didn’t mean … That is, I didn’t think you’d …”
“That’s just it.” His eyes bored into hers.
“Y’ didn’t think at all this night. For this is not the Ton, miss.
Men here’ll treat a girl like dirt if she’s not protected by family, money, or a husband.
Imagine yerself in just this situation, in a different gamin’ hell, locked in a room, defenseless and alone, beggin’ on yer knees an’ me a different man. ”
Annabelle pulled a knife from her pocket. “I am not defenseless.” She waved it wildly at him. “And I am not a—”
In a flash he grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she yelped and dropped the knife. Then he bent back her arm to roughly pin her to his body.
“This is what I meant.” He tightened his grip until she winced.
“Don’t ever show yer hand in battle, woman.
Like in cards, always keep yer cool. Had you let me approach, had you softened t’ me and then, when I were close enough to touch, used yer knife t’ gut me, thrustin’ in an’ up, you’d’ve had a chance in hell. ”
He pushed her away, his boot landing neatly over the knife as he bent to pick it off the floor and slide it into his pocket.
“Fine.” Annabelle exhaled a shaky breath, forced to concede defeat. “I am clearly not your match, sir. Only if you’ve any decency at all, Mr. Harris, you will escort me to my father’s house in secret. I give you my word I’ll not gamble at The Leaf again.”
Mr. Harris nicked his head in a sour grimace as relief flooded Annabelle’s breast.