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Trudging down the road leading from the house, until it connected with a narrow lane that led toward the small town nearby, Angel held her hat over her face to protect it from the worst of the weather. Of course it would be raining. It had been dull weather ever since Mr. Hunter left. The fanciful side of her said that was rather prophetic—it mirrored how she felt inside, all dark and empty and full of tumultuous clouds. The logical side of her said that sounded too much like Minerva for her liking, and she reminded herself that they were edging into autumn so of course the weather would begin changing.

Trees hung over the lane like ominous monsters, their clawed talons reaching out for her. She straightened her shoulders and kept her gaze on the distant glow of the nearby town. She had visited the haberdashery and several of Mrs.Stone’s friends in the town so she was no stranger to the place, but in the dark, everything seemed different.

Goodness, she was beginning to sound just like Minerva. First she was acting all sensible and thinking of others, and now she was fearing what might become of her in the night. Two months in the countryside could do strange things to a girl.

By the time she reached the outskirts of the town, the drizzle had eased but not before soaking under the neckline of her pelisse and wrapping a chill about every part of her body. Who even knew if she still had toes? If she did, she could not feel them.

Angel patted her reticule to reassure herself it still hung from her fingers. Tucking it under her arm, she peered down the street to look for the building Beth had described. A modern building with large windows beckoned to her. But she would not be entering via the front. No one needed to see her stepping foot in such a place.

Drawing her hat tight around her face, she slipped around the side of the building and pushed open a creaky gate. She doubted she was the first person to slip in nor would she be the last, and the gaming hell would likely welcome anyone with coin so it was not difficult to gain entrance to the building.

Still, a tiny thrill rushed through her, making her heart quicken as she stepped into the depths of the house. A small, marble-floored hallway led farther into the structure. She might not have been allowed to frequent gaming hells in London, but she knew enough to understand the gaming room would be near the back, away from prying eyes and any worrisome wives.

A cloud of cigar smoke swirled high in the air as she pushed open the door. The scent of pomade mingled with the sweat she could see on some of the men’s foreheads while they gambled away fortunes. She wrinkled her nose and stepped away from the door when she noticed men swinging looks her way. Asudden shout of frustration made her jump, and she moved to the edge of the room to circle around.

Gaming tables filled the room. She was not certain how busy she expected the place to be for being out in the countryside, but a handful of men lingered around the tables. It would be easy to spot Mr. Cartwright.

Angel studied each face, brows wrinkled in concentration, until she spied him. A deck of cards in hand and his usual confident posture diminished by the rounding of his shoulders, Mr. Cartwright didn’t even see her as she approached.

She cleared her throat, but he did not take his eyes off the table as cards were dealt. She tried again, and he swung a glance her way.

His eyes widened. “Lady Angel!” Both brows rose. “Well, I did not expect to see you here.”

Her muscles tensed under his observation of her. A tiny flicker of smugness pulled at his upper lip.

“Will you join me for a game? Or perhaps something a little more high stakes takes your fancy?” Mr. Cartwright chuckled. “I had heard you were a lady who enjoyed a fun time. Little did I know gaming was to your tastes.”

“It is not to my tastes,” she said stiffly. “I have come to…speak with you. I have a proposition that might interest you.”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, most especially when his eyes lit with their usual lasciviousness. Angel lifted her chin and drew in a long breath. “May we talk in private?”

Mr. Cartwright lifted a finger. Angel ground her teeth together. There was even arrogance in that one finger. “Let me finish.”

She waited and watched as he lost money she knew there was no chance he had. He slammed a fist on the table, pushed a hand through his hair, then stood, affecting a charming smile.

“What can I help you with, Angel?”

She blinked. The red-faced anger and frustration was gone in an instant. No wonder Mrs. Stone had been fooled by him.

She tipped her head toward the hallway, motioning for him to follow her. The fresher air and quieter atmosphere away from the inner sanctum allowed her to gather herself for a moment. She felt less like a wide-eyed child now, which was exactly what she needed if she was going to ensure the problem of Mr. Cartwright was dealt with.

“I am surprised you would risk your reputation by coming to see me alone.” He lounged against the wall. “Whatever it is you wish to discuss, it must be urgent indeed.” He pushed away from the wall and moved closer to her. “Or perhaps you just could not stay away.”

“You greatly overestimate your appeal, Mr. Cartwright. Some semblance of modesty would do you the world of good.”

“Lady Angel Templeton is a known flirt and considered quite scandalous in some circles,” he mused. “Why would I not expect her to wish to fall into a rogue’s arms?”

Angel laughed, ignoring the slight. It was not the first time she had been shamed for her fun-loving behavior, and it would likely not be the last. “You think you are a rogue?” She shook her head. “Sir, I have met many a rogue, and they put you all to shame. You might think you are something quite special here, but there are hundreds of you in London and many are more practicedandmore handsome.”

His lips curved. “No wonder Hunter is attracted to you.”

The name sent a dart straight into her heart. Her throat tightened. She did not want to think about that man. Did not want to think about his kisses or how she’d avoided saying goodbye to him or uttering another word. Especially did not want to think about how foolish she had been to believe he really, truly cared for her. She swallowed hard.

“I have come to offer you a proposition,” she told him.

“Yes, you said,” he said dryly.

“There is nothing untoward about it, let me assure you of that.” Angel folded her arms across her chest, feeling the need to put a barrier between them. She motioned to the inner room. “I know you have debts, and a need for more money. I know you have taken money from others before and intend to take some from Mrs. Stone.”