Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

Bash spun about, looking for an outlet for his feelings. “Is that so?” He knew he was allowing the anger to take over, but he couldn’t quite hold it back. “You can take part of your cut and put it in the fund that will outfit her sisters for the upcoming season.”

“I beg your pardon?” Vanity swallowed then as Blasphemy stepped behind him.

The other man scowled. “Outfit her fu—”

“No profanity,” Bash interrupted, stepping closer. His chest pushed out as he dared his friends to disagree.

“No profanity?” Blasphemy punched one hand into an open palm. “This is a fu—” But he stopped. “This is a gaming hell.”

Some of his anger left then. Because despite their blustering, his friends were acquiescing. “You’re the ones who wanted her here. Tell all the men. Her sisters need to be outfitted. That’s step one. This is the price. They can pay it, or she doesn’t stay.”

Blasphemy mumbled something under his breath that Bash was certain was a string of curses, but he kept his voice low. Vanity gave a curt nod as he too turned, then headed toward the front room.

“So,” Isabella said behind him. “You’ve decided I can stay.”

He turned back to her. He wanted to pull her up against his chest again. But that was exactly what he should not do. “I’m sending you home for the night.”

“But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He let out a sigh. “Tomorrow.”

Chapter Nine

Isabella sat alone in Bash’s carriage, trying to keep her eyes propped open. Her guard always rode on the small seat on the very back of the vehicle, so she had the interior to herself. She was bone-tired and couldn’t wait to slip into bed. It had to be approaching dawn now. Fortunately for her, tonight they were going to some party at a baron’s home. Bash had secured the invitations.

That meant no club this evening.

Which was a treat. Isabella had received quite the education over the last three weeks and what she’d learned was that men were filthy pigs. They spit, they cussed, they swore, they drank, and they gambled away giant sums of money in the name of fun.

Except for Bash. He never drank, never swore, didn’t gamble. Twice other men had caused trouble at her table and both times, he’d been at her side in an instant.

There were men and then there were a few good men. And he was one of them.

Just thinking about him, made her eyes pop open again. Other than those two instances, she’d hardly seen him at all. That didn’t mean he wasn’t always in the background.

But he’d barely spoken to her and he certainly hadn’t touched her in days. If she were honest, she missed him. The feel of his hands. The press of his body, the way he made everything less frightening, the way he filled her with breathless excitement.

But she’d see him tonight.

Tonight, he’d accompany her, her sisters, and their aunt to the party.

Aunt Mildred had insisted Isabella attend every shopping trip, every tea about town, every luncheon that her other sisters had been invited to. Apparently, Isabella was to live a double life so that her reputation might somehow remain intact. She appreciated the thought. But lying had never been Isabella’s strong suit. How would she ever tell a man who sought her hand that she’d done a stint as a dealer in a gaming hell? At best, she’d retire to the country after this to live a quiet life as a spinster. Maybe by the sea. She had math and…her shoulders drooped again.

What had she told Bash in his office? One problem at a time. Her future was a worry for another day.

Right now, she’d focus on the fact that to prepare for the evening ahead, all her sisters would sleep late. There would be no shopping and no luncheons today.

Isabella sighed, craving her bed and mind-numbing sleep. When the carriage finally pulled up to her home, she hauled herself from the seat and into the house, then made her way up the stairs.

She slowly undressed, unpinning her hair, and pulling off her shirt and breeches. Not even bothering to braid her hair, she turned toward her bed to find Eliza already laying there. Her sister was awake and staring at Isabella.

“What are you doing in my bed?” She gave Eliza a tired smile. “Were you going to tell me you were there?”

“You look exhausted,” Eliza said, peeling back the covers.

“I am,” she answered, crossing the room and slipping between the sheets.

“I wanted to warm the bed for you, you’ll fall asleep faster that way.”