The Devil to Pay
Chapter One: The Strange Goings On in Bedford Place
He was not the sort of man she usually chose. Across the roulette table she studied him. He was young; yes, younger than she preferred. One wondered if he yet shaved. The pink blush of innocence still tinged the pretty Englishman's cheeks, and his bones were as delicately carved as her own.
But he was not innocent. And if he were delicate, well, tant pis.
The croupier leaned over the table. "Mesdames and messieurs," he said in his bad French accent, "faites vos jeux, s'il vous plait!"
She waved away the smoke from a nearby cheroot and placed a corner bet, pushing three chips across the baize with a perfectly manicured fingertip. Just then, the gentleman between them rose, scraping up his winnings as he went. An exchange of backslapping and bonhomie followed. Bien. The young man was alone now. In the dim light, she partially lifted the black veil which obscured her eyes, and shot him a look of frank interest. He shoved a stack of chips onto black twenty-two, and returned the stare, one brow lightly lifting.
"No more bets," the croupier intoned ... read full excerpt from The Devil to Pay ebook
