She entered ahead of him, turning slowly once inside, taking in the small, lavishly appointed chamber designed for private games. “This building is remarkable,” she said, reaching up to unbutton her cloak. “Truly. Every time I come, there is a new piece available for exploration.”
She removed her cloak, revealing a simple green walking dress—entirely ordinary, one might even say uninteresting in comparison to the silk and organza creations that the rest of the women who frequented this side of the club wore on a regular basis. The neckline was high, the sleeves long, and the skirts heavy—a combination that should have cooled Cross’s response to their interaction in the alleyway—but Pippa could have been wearing a lace negligee for how the vision of her in that plain frock impacted him.
It did too good a job hiding her.
He wanted it off.
Immediately.
He cleared his throat and took her cloak, draping it over the back of the chaise. “It is designed to make you feel that way. Visitors are left wondering what they might have missed.”
“So they are tempted to return?” The question was rhetorical. She was learning. “Is that the goal for tonight? To tempt me with your pretty rooms and your secret passageways?”
He was not sure what the goal for tonight was anymore. All the clear thoughts he’d had, the perfectly controlled plans for her lesson, they’d been muddled by her presence.
She turned away from him, moving to inspect an oil painting that took up a large section of one wall. It depicted four young men playing a dice game on a cobblestone street by the light of a pub. “Speaking of secret passageways,” she asked, “I’m very impressed by your architectural skill.”
“Temple talks too much.”
She smiled. “Do all the rooms have them?”
“Most of them. We like to have means for escape.” The place where her jaw met her neck cast the most intriguing shadow. Cross wondered at the feel of the skin there. Silk or satin?
“Why?”
He focused on the question. “There are many who would like to see us destroyed. It is a benefit to be able to move about without risk of discovery.”
She turned to face him, eyes wide. “Is that not what the man reading Pride and Prejudice is for?”
“In part.”
“People get past him?”
“It is not unheard of. I once awoke to a woman in my office. I assure you, she had not been invited. And only yesterday, I found her on the floor of the casino.”
She smiled at the reference. “She sounds like a special case.”
Indeed.
“I do not care for the idea that you might have to flee from some nefarious character.”
He resisted the thrum of pleasure that coursed through him at the idea that she might care for him at all. “Do not concern yourself. I rarely flee.”
He moved past her, rounding the table to put distance and mahogany between them. She stayed where she was. “Does this room have one?”
“Maybe.”
She looked around, eyes narrowed, carefully considering each stretch of wall. “And if it did, where would it lead?”
He ignored the question, reaching for the dice on the hazard table, lifting them, testing their weight. “Would you like to ask questions about the architecture? Or would you like your lesson?”
Her gaze did not waver. “Both.”
The answer did not surprise him. Philippa Marbury was a woman so intrigued by knowledge that she would find it tempting on a variety of topics—not simply sex. Unfortunately, her innate curiosity was one of the most tempting things he’d ever experienced.
His goal for the evening returned.
She had to lose.
If she lost, he could regain his sanity.
Reclaim his control.
That alone was worth it.
He tossed the dice in her direction. “Both it is.”
Her eyes lit as though he’d just offered her jewels. “Who were the women outside?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that easy, Pippa. The lesson is about temptation. You want to know more . . . you have to win it.”
“Fine.”
“And you have to wager.”
She nodded once. “I have five pounds in my reticule.”
He smirked. “Five pounds will not do. It is not enough for the lesson for which you ask.”
“What, then? I have nothing else of value.”
You have your clothing. It took everything in his power not to say the words. “I would like to buy back your time.”
Confusion furrowed her brow. “My time?”
He nodded. “If you win, I tell you what you wish to know. If you lose, you lose time for this insane research project. There are what, eleven days left before you marry?”
There were ten. He had deliberately miscalculated.
She corrected him, then shook her head firmly. “We have an agreement.”
Perhaps, but he had all the power. At least, in her mind. “Then I suppose there is no lesson.”
“You said you wouldn’t renege. You promised.”
“And as I said before, my lady, scoundrels lie.” Not always because of their nature, he was realizing. Sometimes they lied to preserve their sanity. He moved for the door. “I shall send someone with a hooded cloak to escort you from the club and return you home.”
He was at the door, hand to handle, when she said, “Wait.”
He steeled his countenance and turned back. “Yes?”