The Darkest Sin by Caroline Richards

back of the library. “Whilst you have been occupied with this dreary card play. So do let us have some amusement at long last.”
    â€œAs though I could ever keep you waiting,” Rushford returned with a small smile exclusively for her, although his eyes remained inscrutable.
    Rowena lowered her lashes. “Confess, my lord. You have been keeping me waiting for an unconscionably long time.” She tapped his chest in mock outrage.
    Galveston did not bother to clear his throat but scraped back his chair. “This is ridiculous, Rushford,” he declared, flicking a dismissive gaze at Rowena and the riveting tableau they presented. “I do not relish this interruption by your doxy. I trust I will not be required to have the house intervene. We have more than enough witnesses to attest to my upping the stakes and your acceptance of the ante.”
    Rowena looked down and across the table, fixing Galveston in her sights. “If I were you, I should welcome the interruption, sir,” she said softly, a hint of warning in her eyes, “judging by your performance this evening. Lord Rushford’s decision to spend the rest of the night with his doxy is entirely in your favor, I should think.”
    A murmur went through the assembly at the affront, and from one so young and obviously unknown. Who was this woman who, in truth, was little more than a girl? Galveston purpled, and the crowd around the room bent collectively closer, a frisson rippling through the library. “This appears to be a new low even for you.” He directed his remark to Rushford. “To allow yourself to be dragged from the gaming tables—and by such a woman.”
    â€œI believe she has a point,” Rushford said slowly, an arm encircling Rowena’s waist as though it was the most natural gesture in the world. “You would be wise to return home to Lady Galveston with at least a few coins in your purse.”
    Rowena stiffened and then forced herself to relax against Rushford, seeing her advantage. “Lord Galveston,” she said smoothly, “I feel as though I must rectify matters. It is only right, given your assumptions.” Her eyes widened in feigned dismay. “It turns out that I am, after all, not simply a doxy but rather,” she said distinctly, aware that Galveston refused to acknowledge her presence in any way, “Lord Rushford’s mistress.”
    Another ripple of shock coursed through the room, the mountain of chits, the indeterminate acrimony, suddenly yesterday’s scandal. The hum of talk among the audience was suddenly deafening, and Rowena was aware of Galveston’s staring up at her with mute fury. The words had had the desired effect. She could not take them back.
    The world now knew that Lord Rushford had taken a new mistress at last.

Chapter 7
    T he resolute dark blue of Rowena Woolcott’s unmistakable gaze under a fringe of blond hair reminded Rushford of another place and another time—a pugilistic ambush that had been swift, strategic, and merciless. He had barely survived the attack in the ring and now seriously considered whether he would survive whatever silken assault Rowena Woolcott held in store. But if he had learned anything in his considerable experience in the Royal Navy, the boxing arena, and in the backrooms at Whitehall, a defensive strategy was never a good idea.
    He had unwisely allowed Miss Woolcott to lead the charge far too long, keeping his own powder dry. It was time to load the cannons.
    He managed to continue smiling at her despite his aching jaw, his acting skills honed through years of subterfuge. “You are quite correct. I have been remiss and, as always, I detest seeing you deprived of anything at all, darling,” he said, aware of another charge running through the audience, reflecting an unsavory but entirely expected delight in witnessing his private life exposed. He had always been discreet in his affairs, never