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Sophronia put down the tin of rouge she had daubed on her cheeks. “I thought Rowden squandered all his fortune.”

Sims shook her head, smiling. “Maybe he do, mum, but he’s enough left over to make us all comfortable. Generous with the bonuses, and with the perks. I tell all my friends when they’s an opening here, though the girls as gets a spot here don’t leave until they marry. He’s clean, he’s decent, and none of the menfolk are tryin’ to visit the maids’ chambers at night, if you know what I mean.”

“I should hope not.” Sophronia smoothed her gloves over her elbow. She had seen Rowden supervising his club, and he seemed efficient and admired. But to know he had been building a home for his family, and was a good employer to boot—the new Rowden was a deeper, steadier man than she had supposed him.

“If he’s throwin’ out lures at ye, best snap him up, mum,” Sims advised. “Another’ll be waiting in the queue for her try, now that he’s turned off that Fanny Glass.” The maid gave Sophronia’s hair a fond pat. “It’s a fine house he’d give ye, mum, good location, and the carriage and horses is his, too.”

“A fair exchange indeed,” Lily said, her eyes twinkling. “You ought to tell him how you feel, Sophronia. Seize the moment, as Sims says.”

“How I feel—” Sophronia bit off the words. She didn’t know how she felt.

Yes, she did. And the thought of saying the words was terrifying.

“Rowden is leaving,” she said, smoothing and smoothing her gloves. “His friend from the Foreign Office wants to send him to the Helvetic Republic, as the Swiss are calling themselves now. The war continues to shift ground, it seems every month, so who knows how long he will be away?”

“You wouldn’t wait for him?” Lily asked, rising from her chair as Sophronia stood.

“Oh, mum, he’s worth it,” Sims exclaimed. “And I could be your lady’s maid, I could. Better than that ham-fisted Sally, the parlormaid.”

Sophronia let her hands fall to her sides. Would she wait for Rowden?

She’d been waiting for him her whole life.

And if she didn’t reach for him now, some part of her would always ache for him. To have and lose him, or deny herself now; she had fallen so deeply that the pain would be no less, whatever path she chose.

Lily watched her, waiting. Sophronia nodded, feeling the weight of the diamond piece pressing into her head.

“I will speak to him. After tonight. I’ve this ordeal with Bint to get through first.”

It was time she laid the truth before him, after he’d been so honest with her.

But she had no idea what happened after that, and for a woman who prided herself on practicality, the unknown was a tortuous thing.

The gaming parlor on the men’s side of the Albion was full of patrons tonight, far more than the few people Rowden had specifically invited. The scent of tobacco and smoke from the oil lamps hung over the room in a cloudy haze. Laughter, taunts, and the click of coin sounded from the tables, and some bon-vivants who had already emptied their pockets strolled among the players, enjoying the convivial atmosphere. Rowden wondered if gossip had circulated to draw such a crowd, but then, he hadn’t even told the principals why he had invited them.

Bint was stuffed into knee breeches and tall boots that were so new the leather creaked when he moved. His olive-green frock coat was cut in the style of the latest fashion plates from France, which Rowden recognized because Pearse made a point to show off his Parisian publications the instant he received them. Bint looked ill at ease in the grand saloon, and in the club overall.

“I was surprised to receive your invitation, Mr. Rowden,” the smaller man said, adjusting the stiff lapels of his coat. “As a banker with responsibility over a great wealth of investments, you can imagine I do not look well on the practice of gaming. My predecessor, Mr. Hinton, abhorred games of chance.”

Of course he did, because Hinton had to win in all things, Rowden thought. He helped the footman lay the board with its layout of cards over the green baize table.

“I will acknowledge that gaming is a gentleman’s pastime,” Rowden replied. “But it seemed to me that, as a rising gentleman yourself, you should want a club for your private ease and entertainment, and my partners at the Albion are eager to woo new members they believe can add distinction to the establishment.”

Bint preened at this, running his fingers along the fobs attached to his waistcoat, and Rowden congratulated himself that he had not told an out and out bouncer. Bint to all appearances was eager to join the ranks of gentleman, working hard to acquire all the requisite markings, and Rowden’s partners broadly approved of new members whose expenditures would add to the Albion’s coffers, mushrooms and toadies alike.

“S’pose that’s why you haven’t turned me out yet, like the other clubs have.”

Humphrey Feltham joined their group, posing for a moment to allow the others to take a full impression of his appearance. His tailed coat with its cutaway waist and double row of buttons was the same blue kerseymere of his pantaloons. His boots narrowed to points at the toe, and along with a black felt top hat he carried a small cane, not nearly long enough to serve as a walking stick. His white neckcloth wrapped his neck several times, reaching up to his chin.

Bint tugged his own neckcloth higher. “I did not know this was your club, Mr. Feltham.”

“I find it amusing to visit now and again.” Humphrey neglected to mention he was in debt to the Albion for several thousand pounds and had been kicked out of most of the other clubs, but his casual remark confirmed what Rowden had suspected; he and the banker were already acquainted.

Rowden wondered just how well the two knew one another, and how far their association had worked to Sophronia’s detriment.

“Know who else is a new member? My cousin.” Humphrey turned toward the door as a splendid-looking woman appeared inside the frame.

Rowden felt the punch to the gut that the sight of Sophronia always delivered of late. Her beauty staggered, all on its own, but it was the way she looked for him, then held his gaze, that set his entire body on alert. It was a primitive, instinctive reaction. His woman was in proximity. His response was a combination of protectiveness, admiration, and arousal.