The Lady Gambles Read Free Page A

of what he knew to be a first-class brandy, and he swiftly poured himself a glass and took an appreciative sip before offering to pour one for the manager, too.
    The older man shook his head. ‘I never drink during working hours.’
    Dominic made himself comfortable as he leant back against the front of the huge mahogany desk. ‘Well, who is she, Drew? And where is she from?’
    The manager shrugged. ‘Do you want my take on her or what she told me when she came to the back door asking for work?’
    Dominic’s gaze narrowed. ‘Both.’ He took another sip of his brandy, giving every appearance of studyingthe toe of one highly polished boot as the other man began to relate the young woman’s tale of woe.
    Caro Morton claimed to be an orphan who had lived with a maiden aunt in the country until three weeks ago, the death of the elderly lady leaving her homeless. Consequently she had arrived in London two weeks earlier with very little money and no maid or companion, but with a determination to make her own way in the world. Her intention, apparently, had been to offer herself as companion or governess in a respectable household, but her lack of references had made that impossible, and so she had instead been driven to begin knocking on the back door of the theatres and clubs.
    Dominic looked up sharply at this part of the story. ‘How many had she visited before arriving here?’
    ‘Half a dozen or so.’ Drew grimaced. ‘I understand she did receive several offers of…alternative employment along the way.’
    Dominic gave a humourless smile as he easily guessed the nature of those offers. ‘You did not feel tempted to do the same when she came knocking on the door here?’ He had no doubt that Miss Caro Morton was a young woman most men, no matter what their age, would like to bed.
    The older man shot him a frowning glance as he moved to sit behind the desk. ‘My lord, I happen to have been happily married for the past twenty years, with a daughter not much younger than she is.’
    ‘My apologies.’ Dominic gave a slight bow. ‘Very well.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘That would appear to be Miss Morton’s version of her arrival in London; now tell me who or what you think she is.’
    Drew looked thoughtful. ‘There may have been a maiden aunt, but somehow I doubt it. My guess is she’s in London because she’s running away from something or someone. A brutish father, maybe. Or perhaps even a cruel husband. Either way she’s far too refined to be your usual actress or whore.’
    Dominic eyed him speculatively. ‘Define refined?’
    ‘Ladylike,’ the older man supplied tersely.
    Dominic looked intrigued; a woman of quality attempting to conceal her identity would certainly explain the wearing of that jewelled mask. ‘And you do not think that actresses and whores are capable of giving the impression of being ladylike?’
    ‘I know they are,’ Drew answered. ‘I just don’t happen to think Caro Morton is one of them.’ His expression became closed. ‘Perhaps it would be best if you were to talk to her and decide for yourself?’
    That the manager felt a fatherly protectiveness towards the ‘refined’ Miss Caro Morton was obvious. That the doorman, Ben Jackson, felt that same protectiveness was also apparent. If she really were a runaway wife or daughter, then Dominic felt no such softness of emotions. ‘I fully intend doing so,’ he assured the other man drily as he straightened. ‘I merely wished to hear your views first.’
    Drew looked concerned. ‘Are you intending to dismiss her?’
    Dominic gave the thought some consideration before answering. There was no doubting Drew Butler’s claim that Caro Morton’s nightly performances were a draw to the club, but even so she might just be more troublethan she was worth if she really were a runaway wife or daughter. ‘That will depend upon Miss Morton.’
    ‘In what way?’
    He raised arrogant brows. ‘I accept that you have been the manager of