Cast in Ice Page 2

  This was not the first time Nick had been here, although it had been some time since his last visit. He didn’t frequent The Dove too often for fear he’d become too familiar to The Dove’s patrons, or its proprietors. He’d discover much more if he remained inconspicuous.

  The main entrance was located in a rather common side alley. Nick opened the outer door then entered the first small room. He knocked on a bolted door and waited until a small window opened. Without a word, Nick held up the special card that confirmed his membership. After a few moments, the bolt on the door slid, and Nick was allowed to enter.

  The lower level of The Dove was called The Blue Room. This was the largest, as well as the busiest level at The Dove. The purpose of this level was for the members of the nobility, both male and female, to enjoy a game of cards without being identified. Hence, the masks. The stakes wagered at this level were not unrealistically high, which allowed the patrons to win moderate amounts, while remaining nameless.

  This was the level where Nick spent most of his time. The reason was two-fold. Before he could investigate The Dove further, he needed to acquaint himself with the basic running of the club. And that included discovering as much as he could about the patrons who visited on a regular basis, as well as observe the owners without their realizing they were being watched.

  Since one of the requirements of membership was that each patron wear a mask at all times, it was easy to study the players without their knowing they were being observed. Unfortunately, it was impossible for him to identify the players with any certainty. All the masks were the same for both male and female, which made for an ethereal experience. It also made identifying the patrons more difficult. Nick was forced to rely on his skills of observation.

  Male and female servers wearing masks identical to those of the players walked about the room carrying trays of complimentary drinks. The owners of The Dove had clearly discovered that the more the gamblers drank, the freer they were with their money. Nick couldn’t imagine how large the profits were on an average evening.

  He looked around the lavishly decorated room, then wended his way between the filled gaming tables. When he reached the center, he lifted his gaze.

  Six massive chandeliers hung from a third floor ceiling. A balcony circled the second level, with doors to twelve rooms all around the circumference. Each six rooms were divided by a staircase that led to a third level.

  From what Nick had determined, the front six rooms on the second level were private gaming rooms for those patrons who considered themselves more skilled, and wanted to wager larger amounts. These rooms were called the Gold Rooms.

  Tables in the Gold Rooms were open only to members who’d gained special permission. They were members who’d proven their level of skill, and wanted to play for higher stakes. Members eligible for the Gold Rooms were given a special coin—a large gold medallion with a soaring dove emblazoned on the front, and a leafy crown on the back. This token was the key to every level of The Dove.

  Nick fingered the coin in his pocket, but didn’t remove it. He had no intention of taking his chances on the second level until he had to.

  At the back of the second level were six more rooms. These were the business offices of the owners, Basil Ellsworth, and Harvey Willard. No one was sure where Ellsworth or Willard had come from, nor did anyone know where they’d acquired the capital to establish The Dove. Speculation was that the financier was a secret third party who wanted to remain anonymous. And the reason was obvious. There were things that happened at The Dove that were rumored to be illegal.

  Nick had his suspicions as to what these events were, but until he knew who the mastermind was behind the enterprise, he couldn’t involve the authorities. And, it wasn’t the second level that interested him, but the third.

  Nick made his way through the room, stopping to observe several of the games already in progress. The Dove was busy tonight and every table was full. He waited for someone to leave their table, then moved in that direction.

  Nick recognized the man who was leaving. He’d seen him here several times before. He didn’t know his name or his title, but he’d given him a nickname. Just as he gave everyone here a nickname. It was easier to remember them that way. This man he called him The Rooster. That was because his red hair always stood up on top like a rooster’s comb.

  The Rooster wasn’t exceptionally skilled at cards and lost more often than he won. But at least he was wise enough to know when to quit. He never seemed to lose more than he could cover, which was fortunate for him. Because one of the rules of The Dove was that no vowels were accepted. No credit extended. No physical properties or possessions could be wagered. Only currency used.

  If a player lost more than he could cover, he had twenty-four hours to pay his debts. If the debts were not covered in one day’s time, the gambler was left with one option. He could cover his losses on the third floor, or his family—as well as all of Society—could read that Lord this or Lady that had lost a certain amount at the gaming tables at The Dove, and was unable to pay his debts. Nothing ruined a nobleman or noble lady’s reputation faster. And before the ink was dry on the morning paper’s print, creditors were at that unfortunate loser’s door demanding payment for every outstanding bill he or she had.

  More often than not, the unfortunate gambler took his or her chances on the third floor.

  Nick tipped his head back and stared at the twin stairways that led to the third floor. He’d never been up there, and had only heard whispers of what happened there, but he didn’t need to hear the gruesome details. He’d seen firsthand the results of those who visited the third floor.

  Jenny Belden’s sweet, innocent face flashed before his eyes. She was Viscount Balden’s only daughter. The love of his life. She’d been a childhood friend of the Viscount’s niece, Lizzy, and the two girls had been inseparable. Nick had watched Lizzy and Jenny grow into beautiful young ladies with their futures before them. Until The Dove stole Jenny’s future from her.

  When Jenny went missing, Viscount Belden contacted Nick to find his daughter. Every clue led to The Soiled Dove, and something that had happened there. But before Nick could find Jenny and deliver her safely home to her parents, Jenny’s mud-soaked body was found floating face down in the Thames.

  If it was the last thing Nick did, he intended to close down The Dove, and make the owners of this gambling hell pay for the lives they’d destroyed.

  Nick watched the man he called The Rooster walk away from his table, and stepped forward to take his place. The gamblers were playing vingt-et-un.

  As usual, few words were spoken in welcome. Greeting from the three other players at the table consisted of sharp nods of acknowledgment. Gossip wasn’t the reason members of Society came to The Dove. There were other desires that brought players here.

  For some it was the thrill of playing against people they didn’t know, and who didn’t know them. The thrill of being someone different than how society perceived them.

  For others, it was the hope—or the desperation—that they’d leave with heavy pockets.

  Nick studied the players at the table and wondered what reasons brought them.

  He studied his opponents. There was one man and two women. He’d seen all of them at The Dove before, but had only played against two of them. The man he’d nicknamed The Rabbit, because the harder he concentrated, the more his nose twitched. It was a habit he should learn to control if he intended to continue to wager. It was a telling sign when he doubted his hand.

  The one woman he’d nicknamed Lady Woodpecker, because she had the annoying habit of tapping the nail of one finger against the table when deciding what wager to make. The more she doubted her hand, the faster she tapped.

  He’d never played against the second female, and thought of what name he would give her. But he didn’t notice any habits she exhibited that might earn her a nickname. Then, her stillness provided him with a moniker.

  There was a cool air of confi
dence in the tilt of her head, a poised set to her shoulders. Without knowing exactly why, Nick was fascinated by her captivating presence. He studied her for several long moments, then gave her the name of Ice Lady. For that is what she seemed to him. As cold as ice.

  With a nod, she picked up a few cards in the deck and held the top card up. The card was a queen. The Rabbit did the same. His card was a seven. Lady Woodpecker held up a three. Then it was Nick’s turn. He held up a Jack.

  The banker was determined. Without acknowledging the other players, Ice Lady picked up the deck and dealt each player a card. The card remained face down on the table.

  The players each looked at their card and slid their initial wager in front of them. The banker dealt each player a second card.

  The Rabbit studied his two cards for several long moments. His nose twitched from side to side, then up and down. Eventually, he decided to add another card. He looked at his cards, then placed them facedown, indicating he wanted no more.

  Ice Lady turned her attention to the lady opposite her. The lady nodded once and the banker slid another card across the table.

  Lady Woodpecker picked up her third card then began the rapid tap-tap-tapping of her fingernail against the marble tabletop.

  The tapping continued for several nerve-wracking minutes, then the tapping stopped and Lady Woodpecker nodded that she wanted another card.

  Ice Lady slid another card across the table and the female player picked it up. With a painful moan, Lady Woodpecker dropped her hand face up to the table. With no show of emotion, the banker took Lady Woodpecker’s chips, then placed the losing cards to the bottom of the pack.

  Nick studied the Ice Lady’s controlled reaction. Nothing she did indicated she was pleased that one of the players had lost to her. It was almost as if she expected to defeat her competition one by one.

  Next, Ice Lady turned to The Rabbit. Like the player before him, he indicated that he wanted another card. Ice Lady dealt him a card and pushed it across the table. With a twitch of his nose, he lifted the corner of his card up enough to see what it was. Then he slowly placed it with the two cards in his hand and began his deliberation. His nose twitched nervously as he debated what to do, then he indicated that he wanted another card.

  Ice Lady dealt the card, and the twitching began again. A sheen of perspiration rose on his forehead. He placed his cards on the table and wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs more than once. It was obvious his decision wasn’t an easy one. Finally, after much deliberation, the player indicated he wanted a fourth card.

  Ice Lady lifted a card off the top of the deck and placed it on the table.

  Nick knew he was mistaken, but he saw a slight hesitation in the dealer’s movements, as if she wanted to take the card back. His curiosity was piqued. It was almost as if she knew The Rabbit’s decision to ask for another card had been a mistake.

  Nick watched the dealer’s reaction with closer scrutiny as The Rabbit lifted his card, then dropped his cards face up to the table. Like before, the banker took The Rabbit’s stake and added it to her own, then placed the losing cards on the bottom of the pack.

  With a light turn of her head, Ice Lady turned to Nick. He saw the deep brown of her eyes through the mask all the players were required to wear. There was nothing special about the color of her eyes, but for an instant, Nick thought he’d seen that sharp intelligence before. For one fleeting second, there was a flash of recognition, and he was sure if he watched her long enough, he’d remember where and when he’d seen those eyes before.

  She tilted her head in silent encouragement to continue their play. That slight tilt of her head was another indication that she wasn’t a stranger to him.

  Nick looked at his cards, then placed them face down on the table, indicating he would stand with the cards in his hand. Ice Lady hesitated, then placed the deck on the table, indicating that she, too, would play the cards she’d been dealt.

  Nick smiled behind his mask. He wasn’t sure that he’d won, but it was likely. He had two tens.

  When Ice Lady indicated she didn’t want another card, Nick turned his cards over. The Rabbit and Lady Woodpecker both released audible sighs, then turned their rapt attention to Ice Lady’s hand.

  Without lifting her gaze from his, she turned over her cards. Two queens.

  A smile lifted the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Well done, my lady,” he said, surprised that he truly meant it.

  “Thank you, sir,” she answered as she reached for her winnings, then placed both their cards on the bottom of the deck.

  But Nick wasn’t paying attention to her actions. He was struggling to recall where he’d heard that voice before. Struggling to match a face with that low, sultry voice.

  And when he did, his breath caught as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. Because knowing who he was playing against changed everything.

  CHAPTER 3

  Winnie could barely keep her eyes open. She sat in a chair against the wall in the Rummery ballroom and prayed no one was watching her. Perhaps if she could successfully escape the ton’s notice, she could close her eyes for a few moments and rest. She was that tired.

  It had been nearly dawn before she’d returned home this morning. It had taken her that long to win enough money to warrant the risk of going to The Dove. And she blamed the stranger who’d forced her to draw on every skill she’d learned about gambling for the lateness of the hour.

  He was a proficient gambler. And he had the devil’s own luck when it came to the hands he was dealt. But she eventually won enough that she had part of the blackmail demand. Even if it had taken her all night.

  By the time she arrived home, Tilly had worn a path in the carpet, pacing from one side of the room to the other. And Winnie didn’t blame her. If Winnie had been much later, she’d have run into the kitchen staff already up when she entered through the kitchen door.

  Winnie didn’t know who the masked stranger was. She’d never seen him at The Dove before, but he was an expert gambler. As experienced and competent as she was. There was even a time when she thought she’d be forced to come home having lost the money she’d gone with. Something that had never happened before. But at the last, her luck held and she won several hands in a row.

  Winnie concentrated on what she remembered of the stranger who’d sat next to her at The Dove. She’d nicknamed him Erebos, the Greek god of darkness and shadows. Because there was something dark and dangerous about him. And that danger warned her to be wary of him.

  His hands were sturdy and strong, his fingers long and narrow, and he held his cards as if they were a natural extension of his hands. His hair was so dark it almost seemed black, and appeared even darker when framing the silver-gray of the masks they wore. His shoulders were broad, and filled out the expensive cut of his finely tailored jacket to perfection.

  She couldn’t see much of his face. That was the purpose of the masks. But his jaw was chiseled in sharp angles that conveyed a strength she found intriguing.

  That formidable strength should have told her that he would be a worthy adversary. She should have realized he’d be a threat, and that it would take all her skill to best him. But she’d been too intrigued by his innate confidence to face the danger his self-reliance emitted.

  He exuded a forceful intensity that characterized a commanding presence. She’d found nothing lacking in his demeanor. His shirt was a pristine white, and his cravat expertly tied.

  There was a gold pocket watch in his waistcoat pocket that he’d pulled out in a swift, exacting move when the gentleman with the nervous twitch had asked the time. His actions were precise, as if he was in complete control of every movement he made.

  There were times when she appreciated the mysterious seclusion the masks afforded the patrons of The Dove. But there were times, like last night, when she wished she knew the identity of the man she played against. The man who’d expertly challenged her. The man who intrigued her more than any man ever had.

  W
innie let her thoughts drift away from the masked stranger and opened her eyes long enough to focus on the happenings in the ballroom. Without a doubt, no one she was likely to meet at a Society function could be nearly as powerful or captivating as the man she’d battled with last night over a deck of cards. But when her gaze turned to the groups of elegantly dressed lords and ladies enjoying their time at Lord and Lady Rummery’s ball, her heart shifted in her chest and her breath caught. A man equally as absorbing, but in a different, more dangerous way attracted her attention.

  At first she thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her. The man standing across the ballroom floor talking to her father and brother looked like Nick Stillman. But it couldn’t be. This was the last place she imagined she’d see a brigadesman from Mack Wallace’s Bedford Street Brigade. There must be some mistake. The man talking with her father and Ben must simply look like Mr. Stillman.

  Then he turned.

  Their gazes met, then locked, and she knew she hadn’t been mistaken. The man approaching her at her father’s side was Nick Stillman.

  Her heart increased its steady thrumming in her breast, beating harder and faster. An awareness she couldn’t understand took control of her thoughts. Her heart shifted inside her while her emotions tingled in fear, and…anticipation.

  “Look who I found,” her father said when he reached her.

  The smile on her father’s face was genuine. He considered that he owed each and every one of the brigadesmen his profound gratitude for their help in returning Ben’s daughter to them when the duchess had kidnapped her.

  Winnie hadn’t seen Nick Stillman since the dinner celebration her father had hosted several months ago to thank the brigadesmen for everything they’d done. And she didn’t expect to ever see him again. But here he was, standing in front of her as if he were a member of Society.

  Winnie rose to her feet. “What a surprise, Mr. Stillman,” she said, dipping slightly.

  “Yes, I just explained to your father that Viscount Rummery happens to be my uncle. My mother is Lord Rummery’s sister.”