Chapter One

September 14, 1812

Dodo Loughty had found her mark. Now all she had to do was work out her approach.

The whole thing shouldn't have been difficult. She was actually supposed to be here, at Baron Llyne's party, and that in and of itself was unusual. Dodo never usually managed to get invited to such things. She certainly never came to such occasions without a chaperone—though she doubted her mother, even if she were in the same city, would have approved of her task tonight. Nor had she had any desire to appeal to her new landlady for the job. She had no doubt the solicitous woman would have refused.

When the invitation had arrived in the post at Dodo's lodgings yesterday, she had scrabbled to reply in time, and here she was.

And so, it appeared, was half the town.

Bath was supposed to be quiet at this time of year—that was what Dodo's mother had said. Though Dodo's parents actually thought her to be in York, visiting her aunt. Her parents had hesitated to allow her to travel without a chaperone to begin with, but she had assured them there was no need of their sole maid to accompany her because it was such a short distance. But she had actually gone to Bath—quiet Bath. That description was why Dodo had chosen this part of the world to visit at just such a time. But instead—

"Careful there!" cried a portly, scowling gentleman carelessly as he pushed past her.

Dodo's headpiece, a delicate pink ribbon encircled with lace, was almost knocked off her head as the man shoved her none too delicately toward the wall. It was a fortunate thing, indeed, that her balance was excellent. It was an unfortunate thing, indeed, that she wasn't able to get a good kick at him as he passed.

Not , Dodo reminded herself, that I should be thinking of doing such things, much less actually doing them.

No, she was here to make money. That was all. One of Baron Llyne's card parties was precisely the right sort of place for a lady to do such a thing.

Not that I should be doing such a thing, either …

"Ah, there you are!" came the booming voice of a woman who appeared to be half human, half siege engine.

Dodo blinked as a curvaceous woman wearing a crimson, silk gown with her blonde hair full of feathers bore down on her. This couldn't have been—

"I hope you find Baron Llyne's home welcoming," boomed a lady who could only be Lady Romeril as she stopped short before Dodo. "I do not think I have had the pleasure of your company before, Miss Loughty. Forgive my forwardness. I ensured old Llyne invited you, as I was simply desperate to meet you. Your landlady tells me everything that goes on in that place of hers, I'm afraid."

That explained how anyone had even known Dodo was in town—or who she was to begin with. She attempted to smile. It was not something she was particularly good at, and recently, she hadn't had much cause to bother.

As she tried now, moving her face into an approximation of a smile, she saw a flicker of uncertainty in the woman's eyes.

Good heavens, she would have to do better than this…

"Thank you, Lady Romeril, for your gracious intercession on my behalf," Dodo managed, fanning herself slightly with a hand. When had it grown so stifling in here? "It was very kind of you to—"

"No kindness meant, I assure you," said Lady Romeril with a stern look down her nose. "You are new to Bath, new to the ton , as far as I can make out. I wanted to assess you."

Dodo had been warned about this.

Oh, not by any particular person. She knew almost no one in Bath and had spoken to fewer than five people altogether since she had arrived last week. But that did not matter.

Somehow, everyone knew about Lady Romeril. It was a part of Society that seeped into the skin.

And Lady Romeril was most definitely the sort of person to assess others.

Her roving eye flickered across Dodo's person, which most irritatingly started to heat up with embarrassment as she was subjected to the review.

Well, honestly! This was not even Lady Romeril's home, nor Lady Romeril's card party, nor Lady Romeril's Titian paintings on the wall, and—goodness, the detailed carvings on that golden clock were elaborate.

Still , Dodo thought wretchedly, shifting her necklace in her discomfort, being Lady Romeril and a terror in Society did not give her the right to examine young ladies as though they were cattle. Particularly when this specific young lady was here without a chaperone and was wearing a necklace with jewels that appeared at first glance to be sapphires but that any detailed inspection would soon reveal to be glass…

"Hmm," said Lady Romeril with a raised eyebrow. "To whom shall I introduce you, then?"

Dodo almost choked, she spoke so hastily. "I am afraid I do not know anyone here to—"

"All the more reason to introduce you," said her hostess swiftly. "Come on. Play whist with Lady Amelia Zouch."

It did not appear to matter to Lady Romeril whether or not Miss Doris Loughty—Dodo to the few people with whom she was close—wished to play whist. Or play anything. Her fingers grasped her guest's wrist and Dodo was swept across the room and deposited on a chair opposite a young lady with fine, blue eyes and flaxen hair, and two gentlemen, both of whom seemed bored beyond their wits.

Dodo swallowed, mouth dry. "Lady Romeril—"

But she was gone. Again, the woman seemed to have forgotten the social dictates of proper introductions. With the unerring sense of the firebrand, she had spied newcomers of whom she evidently wished to make an inspection and had disappeared into the crowd of the drawing room.

And a crowd it was. In a way, Dodo was delighted to be seated in the crush rather than having to force her way through it. But that did not mean she was welcome at the table…

As no one else seemed eager to provide their names, Dodo turned nervously to her new companions and attempted a pleasant expression as her pulse beat a frantic tattoo under her ribs. "Miss… Miss Loughty. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

The lady she knew. Everyone knew Lady Amelia Zouch—everyone. Charming, beautiful, and her brother was a duke, of course. That was someone to know.

Not a vicar's daughter from the middle of nowhere who has come to Bath to seek her fortune , Dodo thought wryly as she accepted the dealt cards with a meek inclination of her head.

Well, that wouldn't matter. All she had to do was win.

"It's a penny entry," said the hawkish, thin man to her left with a leer that was perhaps supposed to be a smile. "I can stand you for it, Miss Loughty. Always delighted to have a lady owe me a favor."

If the glare Lady Amelia was giving him was any indication, it was a dangerous thing indeed to be indebted to the man who had not yet had the manners to introduce himself.

Dodo shifted in her seat, her light-cream gown suddenly too hot, too tight. And a penny was a penny. She had come here to earn money, not to lay it down on a table with the risk of losing it.

She glanced at her hand.

"I will pay my own penny, Mr. …?"

"Mr. Packham," said the man as he crinkled his sharp nose, clearly ruffled by the fact that she was unwilling to make herself an easy target. "Fine. Well. It's your money."

It was indeed her money, and now Dodo had seen the cards she had been dealt, she was perfectly happy to risk it.

Risk it. It was hardly a risk. Almost a certainty. The odds were she would sweep the—

"It is your move, Miss Loughty," said the quiet gentleman to her left.

Dodo glanced at him. He did not appear to be interested in her, which was a great comfort. She had so few connections as it was—it would be difficult, as she moved about Bath society, to discover which gentlemen were appropriate to be speaking with and who should be avoided at all costs.

She silently placed Mr. Packham in the latter group as she put down a sixpence, raising the stakes for all at the table.

If only I had friends. Or if Ellis were—were here.

It was a pathetic thought, and one Dodo attempted to push aside swiftly. Her brother was gone—he was dead. And that left her, the only person who could attempt to solve this problem.

The room was growing more raucous as the game of whist continued. Someone had opened a bottle of brandy, for some of the gentlemen passing their table were holding large glasses of the stuff. The room buzzed with excitement as a table whooped with laughter at someone's expense.

The trouble was, though her deep-seated desire for connection was a pathetic thought, it was also a true one. Dodo had never been one for a large acquaintance, and after the year she'd had…

Well. Suffice to say, the fact that she had managed to find lodgings at all in Bath, and respectable and cheap ones at that, was a minor miracle.

All she had to do was win …

Dodo looked at the cards in her hand. So, hearts were trumps, and a series of tricks had been played by Lady Amelia which had set them up well. They were playing Long Whist rather than three rubbers, which could keep them trapped at the table forever. The cards left remaining in hands were two of clubs, three of clubs, nine of clubs, eight of spades…

It did not take her long. Numbers never did. They behaved in a way so unlike people: orderly, controlled, and always the same each time. It was a relief to lose herself in the probabilities and start stacking up the potential winning routes.

Mr. Packham cleared his throat nastily. "Is this a forfeit, Miss Loughty?"

"Certainly not," Dodo said, a small smile creeping over her lips. It was always pleasant to win, but the pile of silver before her was going to make the game ever so sweet. "I believe my partner and I have the honors, and therefore the game."

She placed her cards carefully before her.

Genteel applause. Dodo blinked. They had gained an audience—one she had not noticed, and which could certainly have put off a lesser player from their counting and calculations.

As it was, her cheeks pinked and she turned swiftly to look at the pile of coins on the table. At least four shillings. Well, it wasn't outstanding prize money, but—

"Well played, Miss Loughty," said Lady Amelia with a stiff look. "Shall we split our winnings?"

Dodo's smile faded, but only slightly. With a great effort, she managed to retain her cheery expression as she inclined her head as generously as possible.

Of course . Whist was a pairs game. She had entirely forgotten in the exhilaration of winning. The winnings would therefore be split, leaving her with only—

"Two shillings fourpence," said the man on her right quietly. "A hefty sum, for the risk of a penny."

Dodo did not look at him as she accepted the coins silently from Lady Amelia and placed them swiftly in her reticule. It hung a little heavier from her wrist. Not heavy enough, though.

There was the interest on that loan her parents had taken and the butcher's bill, the wages for their maid were overdue, and then there was that pound they had borrowed from a friend who really needed to be paid back…

The night is still young , she tried to tell herself as she rose awkwardly from the table, hardly able to push her chair back because the crush of spectators meant she would have to hurtle into someone's knees. There were to be plenty of opportunities to play another—

"So you play well." Mr. Packham leered at Dodo. "What else do you do well, Miss Loughty?"

"Miss Loughty? Will you come with me to get a glass of punch?" asked Lady Amelia quietly.

Dodo could not acquiesce swiftly enough. "Yes! Yes, most definitely."

To walk about the room with someone else, to look as though she belonged, to make it clear that she knew someone else, even if it were in the smallest and most insignificant way—

Yes, that would be greatly appreciated.

Lady Amelia rose in her turn, and the two of them pushed awkwardly through the crowd that was watching a poker match on another table, and then they moved past those surrounding whooping table, who appeared to be crowing over an unfortunate gentleman who had lost an entire pound.

Dodo shivered. That would be awful, indeed.

Biting her lip as she and Lady Amelia approached the punch table, she felt the weight of her reticule again and calculated. She knew how heavy it should feel after a card party, and she wasn't even close to halfway yet. She would have to join another table as swiftly as—

"You were disappointed, weren't you?" asked Lady Amelia, as though they were continuing a conversation.

Dodo blinked. "I-I beg your pardon?"

"Punch?" Lady Amelia gestured with the ladle.

Nodding and hurriedly holding out a glass that she'd taken from the row on the table before them, Dodo watched as one of the toasts of the ton poured her a glass.

"Disappointed," repeated Lady Amelia, now helping herself to a glass of punch. "With your winnings, I mean. You were hoping for more."

She fixed her clear gaze on Dodo, whose cheeks burned.

What was a lady of the ton supposed to say to that? How was she supposed to answer honestly yet keep her secret? What if her continued silence prompted the already forward Lady Amelia to ask after her chaperone this evening, another topic Dodo hoped desperately to avoid? Would she have to tell her an old aunt was just around the corner, milling about one of the tables?

Hoping that inspiration would strike—though it never did with words—Dodo took a sip of her punch and almost choked.

"Yes, Lord Llyne does make it strong," said Lady Amelia with a wry look. "Come over here, away from the crowds. Then you can tell me whether you're here to swindle the rest of their guests."

Dodo almost considered bolting.

After all, the last thing she needed was to be found out. Well, not found out, exactly. She hadn't cheated. She had never cheated—she had never had to. When one could see how the cards were going to move, there was no requirement to cheat. It was merely a simple case of calculation. Anyone could do that.

Why no one else did was a mystery to her.

But running would only emphasize her guilt, would it not? And this Lady Amelia, part of Bath's society as she was, could hardly imprison her or defame her merely for winning a hand of whist.

Not , Dodo thought bitterly, that it was even worth much.

"You need money, I suppose," said Lady Amelia quietly, sipping her punch as though they were discussing the latest bonnet design that had appeared on Milsom Street.

Dodo knew her cheeks must have been crimson, but there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't even trust her voice, and as no words had occurred to her, she did the only thing she could. She nodded.

Lady Amelia mirrored her, nodding in turn as she put her half-empty glass of punch on the tray of a passing footman. "You're not alone, you know. There are plenty of young ladies in Bath, and London, who receive an insufficient allowance from their parents and attempt to find more at card parties."

Forcing a smile she did not feel, Dodo croaked, "Ah."

The pair was forced to take hurried steps back as a trio of laughing gentlemen, smelling strongly of brandy, marched past them with no consideration for personal space. Or toes. The contents of Dodo's glass sloshed dangerously and she quickly put it down on the nearby table, but not before noticing a fresh stain on the only pair of fine gloves she had without holes.

"There is no shame in it," said Lady Amelia airily. "Naturally, I do not have to worry about such things, but I am aware. Here."

Dodo almost did not put her hands out in time. As it was, one of the pennies that her conversation companion suddenly thrust toward her escaped Dodo's hands and fell to the floor.

The other two shillings and thruppence, however, were now inexplicably clasped in Dodo's own hands.

"I have no need of it," Lady Amelia said airily. "Go get yourself whatever ribbons you wanted."

And with that, she sauntered off into the crowd.

The instinct to throw the coins after the woman's condescending head swept through Dodo. Perhaps if she had finished her glass of punch and was more reckless than she typically was, she would have done so.

As it was, her pride got the better of her. She even bent to pick up the fallen coin.

It was easier to slip the coins into her reticule. When Dodo allowed her hand to fall back to her side, her reticule was heavier. Comfortingly heavier. But not enough.

Her pulse was pattering painfully, and she permitted herself five minutes—and no more—to continue standing by the wall considering her next move. The question was, which table would she approach?

Whist, it appeared, would not provide her the opportunity to win sufficient funds—that was clear. Poker, then? Cribbage?

But as Dodo looked out at the plethora of tables, almost all of them now occupied, she noted with a sinking feeling that most were only playing for pennies. A winner may walk off with two or three shillings, if they were lucky, but some of these games lasted for ages. Twenty minutes, perhaps even half an hour.

That would leave her with…

Well, say the average card party lasted until midnight. It was a quarter past eight now, according to a grandfather clock in the corner. So, let's say half past, both for ease of calculations and to take into account the difficulty of being cut into a game. That left her only seven opportunities to play and win money—and that, Dodo knew, was a best-case scenario, only to be achieved if she were accepted into every game.

Seven games, winning, say, three shillings a time, and that was generous—so twenty-one shillings. Not even a guinea.

Picking up her glass again, Dodo swallowed the last of the punch and blinked, the strength of the drink overwhelming her senses for a mere moment as she set the glass back down.

No, she couldn't possibly win enough here. Yet what other choices did she have? There were only so many times she could escape without her parents noticing, only so many card parties hosted in Bath at this point of the Season, and it wasn't as though she was going to be invited to every single—

"Excuse me," said a quiet voice that she somehow recognized. "Forgive me, but I couldn't help but overhear."

Dodo glanced to the left and saw, to her horror, that the gentleman who had been seated on her right at the whist table was standing nearby.

Very nearby. Nearby enough, as he said, to have heard her conversation with Lady Amelia.

Stomach twisting and wondering whether it would simply make the most sense to leave the card party, she attempted to remain calm. "I don't know what you mean, sir ."

Although she had not intended to put a slight emphasis on the final word, she had, and Dodo could see that it had had an impact.

The man grinned, and a curious dimple formed in one cheek. "Yes, abominably rude of me not to introduce myself. My wife will have my guts for garters. She's a stickler for manners."

And somehow, those words calmed the initial panic washing over Dodo, and not merely because he offered safety for an unchaperoned lady, standing beside a very much married and therefore ineligible gentleman.

Well, if he were a married man, he could not be all bad, could he? Someone had agreed to marry him. It was not precisely the vote of confidence it could have been—some awful men were married, though how, she was not sure—but it certainly calmed her. A little.

"She says my ability to overhear things that are nothing to do with me is another of my worst qualities," said the man cheerfully. "But Florence never holds it against me, thank God. You're looking to make some money, then?"

Dodo took a step back, wary at the man's words.

Well, nothing good came after thinking something like that, did it?

The man's face fell. "Oh, dear God, not like—Miss Loughty, isn't it? I would never—oh, blast."

The man truly did look mortified. Dodo's shoulders loosened, just a tad, though she still glared at the man with a wariness that he absolutely warranted.

"Look, I've done this all backward," said the man heavily. "I'm John Chance, Marquess of Aylesbury."

Dodo took another step back, almost tripping over her own feet. This was not what she'd intended. Gentlemen introducing themselves to her at card parties, making insinuations—even if it had been accidental…

This was precisely why her parents had not wished her to come to Bath. But what choice did she have?

"You need to make money, right?" said the man—the Marquess of Aylesbury, if he were to be trusted—asked quietly.

And for some reason, one that Dodo could not fathom, she nodded. "Yes."

The marquess grinned. "You sound like my brother. George Chance. He's always looking to win or lose a huge pile, and I have to say that he's not particularly good at the former. Rather better at the latter."

Despite herself, Dodo was intrigued. A brother who was an expert at losing money… Well. That was the sort of man to be around. Particularly if he could lose a huge pile to her .

"In fact, I believe that is what he is doing this very evening," said Lord Aylesbury conversationally.

Dodo swallowed. It was up to her to say something, she knew. And she could hardly be blamed for her curiosity. It was the man who had raised the topic, after all. "And… And he is here, is he?"

"Here? At Lord Llyne's?" Lord Aylesbury snorted. "Never fear. You simply can't win or lose enough here for Lindow's tastes."

She tried to smile, her pulse thumping faster. Lindow? A strange sort of nickname.

"No, he's at McBarland's. It's a gaming hell, about four streets over," said the interfering man happily.

Dodo froze.

Well, that was it. There was no possibility, absolutely no possibility, of her going there. The odds were not just astronomical, they were impossible.

A lady like her, go to a gaming hell? Go to "McBarland's," which sounded just as scandalous as she was sure it was. No. Even with the temptation of being able to earn more money. Even if she could win enough to—

No. Absolutely not.

The man's pinched expression was a little too knowing. "Yes, you are correct. Ladies, particularly ladies of the ton , are not generally accepted there. Well, I say ‘accepted.' They do not typically wish to go. What lady would? She'd lose all her money."

And that was when Dodo squared her shoulders and spoke in as icy a tone as possible. "And what, precisely, is the address of this place where ladies aren't supposed to go?"