Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

Isabella’s mouth snapped closed. Her sister was right on that account.

Their plan was very risky.

And it began with Isabella dressing like a man.

There were two reasons they’d chosen her for the role. First, she was the tallest and most slender of her sisters. She surpassed most men in height; she’d been the one to inherit her father’s stature.

It made it easier to disguise herself as a man.

But the other, more important factor was her unique ability to keep track of numbers.

She wasn’t just good at it. She was flawless.

Numbers had always stuck in her head and stayed there. They made sense to her.

She could remember all the cards that had been played in a hand and the hand before it and the hand before that. Her skill made her deadly difficult to beat.

Which caused her sisters no amount of fits as children.

Until they’d been desperate for money. And now, now it appeared to be one of their greatest assets.

The problem was that their father had left two years prior to shore up a trade deal in the Orient. His business finances had diminished greatly over the past several years though the family had struggled to discover why. In an attempt to restore their finances as his daughters came of age, he’d left to secure a new trade deal in far off lands.

Her mother had an inheritance, of course. A large one. The rest was plenty for them to live on. Except their mother had unexpectedly died last winter. All the money their mother had set aside for her daughters was still in their father’s care.

And several letters to their father to tell him so had gone unanswered. Which was odd. He travelled on known routes, with regular ships passing to and from India and the Orient. He should have received their letters.

Where was he? Why hadn’t he replied to their missives and returned home? They were running out of time. Because if their father was declared dead…

Her pulse stuttered in her veins. Well, that was a state of affairs they’d decided they couldn’t tolerate.

“Isabella, are you listening?” Abigail asked, tapping her shoulder.

She blinked back to reality, looking at her sister’s reflection through the speckled glass. “Yes. Of course.”

Eliza waved her hands. “You know she wasn’t. She’d only pay attention if we were doing math.”

“That’s not fair.” Emily stepped in, patting Isabella’s other shoulder. Emily was the kindest person Isabella knew. She reached for Em’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s totally fair. Do you know she was doing some theoretical math problems the other day? What does that even mean? How can numbers be a theory?” Eliza crossed over to the fire. “Anyway, as I was saying. I talked with Lord Bastingcook. He said there are two types of games at this place, th

e Den of Sins. The ones in the front room are for lower stakes. But then there are more intimate games held in private rooms where far more money passes hands.”

“But you’d need money to enter those higher stakes games. That’s my guess.” Isabella pointed out as she lifted her chin to allow Abigail to dab dark powder on her chin.

Eliza let out a short, exasperated huff. “Of course you do. Tonight we’ll play the main room tables. Make as much as we can and save the profits for tomorrow night and a high-stakes game.”

Isabella gasped this time, which caused Abigail to jam the brush she’d been dusting Isabella’s face with into her chin, leaving a dark black smear of soot.

Isabella ignored the dark mark and the pulse of pain. “Tomorrow? This was supposed to be a one-time deception. I might be tall, but these men aren’t going to be fooled for long. I’m not very masculine.”

Eliza shrugged. “You’d be surprised. We’ll go late when they’ll be good and drunk. And I’m going as your paramour, remember. I’ll be sure to hang off you like a harlot. They’ll never guess.”

Isabella’s mouth pinched. She hated this part of the plan.

Eliza would play the role flawlessly of course.

But if numbers made sense, people often didn’t.