Whitechapel Wagers 02 - Wanton Wager Read Free Page B

waiting in a modest yet homey room that looked to serve as the family’s living area, dining area, and makeshift kitchen, Will fought the urge to leave, to seek another hansom and return to his lonely, eventless life. To forget about this business of Ashdowne’s kept woman and the crime-ridden East End district where she lived.
    What would he say to her? What could he say? He had been sent by her lover to see if he might be her next? The whole business was dishonorable, and yet he could not resist the desire to at least meet her. To see the red-haired beauty who gave men comfort. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, and his leg and arm began a slow burning ache. Perhaps they had already been aching. He had learned not to notice and usually ignored his body, trying to drone out sensation. But thoughts of Miss Hamilton brought nothing but sensation.
    And then she walked into the room.
    Ashdowne had said her hair was red, but it was nothing like the tame amber shade of Emilia’s hair. Miss Hamilton’s hair was fiery, a most striking shade of true, rich red. It swept down over her shoulders in jumbled waves, and the sheen in her blue eyes and bee-stung plumpness of her full mouth suggested he’d woken her.
    He was a cad, an utter wretch for disturbing this woman and expecting anything at all from her.
    “Frederick?”
    Could she not see clearly he was not Ashdowne? They might both be wanton wretches, but their outward appearance was not similar at all. Ashdowne was dark, with black hair and nearly black eyes. Will knew everything about his own looks was light, from his blonde-brown hair to his grey eyes.
    “No, Miss Hamilton. I’m sorry. As you can see, I am not Frederick. My name is William Selsby.”
    Disappointment was plain on the woman’s lovely face, and Will wished he’d taken that cab back to his lodgings on Moreton Terrace after all.
    She rubbed her finger across the arch of her eyebrow and closed her eyes for the briefest of moments before speaking. “Forgive me, Mr. Selsby. I do not wish to be rude, but it is quite late, and I do not believe we are acquainted.”
    “No.” How to begin? How to explain the reason he had burst into her life?
    When he made no further reply, they stood and stared at each other for a moment. Will savored the opportunity to study her. He had never seen a young woman stand so stock straight and confident. No debutante he had ever met could manage such a feat. The diminutive woman before him would put many of his own soldiers to shame.
    But her stance and air of self-possession was a striking contrast to her delicate beauty—wide, full lips and strikingly beautiful blue-green eyes together with her small frame and lush curves made her seem more a manifestation from a fairy story than a flesh and blood woman he had roused from her bed in a cramped room in Whitechapel.
    She let out a sigh. “Then why are you here, Mr. Selsby? What business could you have with me at this hour?”
    She studied him then, skimming her gaze down his body in an assessing manner that made his skin burn beneath his evening wear. She focused her gaze on the items in his hands. Ashdowne had advised him to bring flowers and a small gift to encourage amity with Miss Hamilton.
    “You come bearing gifts, sir. Who do you expect to woo?”
    Every irrational urge inside of him wanted to woo her, this petite woman with such exotic beauty and the backbone of a soldier. But the look in her eyes, the slight grimace on her face when she looked his way, told him she had no interest in furthering their acquaintance.
    “Miss Hamilton, forgive me for intruding on your evening. I was directed here by Lord Ashdowne.”
    No flicker of recognition registered on her face. She simply continued to stare at him as if waiting for more. His explanation thus far meant nothing to her. The name Lord Ashdowne meant nothing to her.
    “The man you spoke of earlier. Frederick. That is the Lord Ashdowne to whom I refer.”
    The