Right. Of course.Damnation, why couldn’t she think?
She raised her voice. “I do!” she said loudly.
The chuckles began slowly, but they quickly gained speed. All around the gallery, the gamblers were laughing at her. They knew nothing of her abilities, but already they dismissed her. Damnation, she might be a bastard, but she wasn’t a fool. For all they knew, she could be a genius at figuring. In fact, she was damned good at it!
Strangely enough, Mr. Palmer didn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze seemed to rove over her. “I like the stakes,” he said.
It took her a moment to realize that he thought she was offering herself as forfeit and she stiffened at the insult. She watched in horror as the rest of the gallery looked over her figure as well, adding their own ribald comments.
Only one man didn’t laugh. Lord Kittrel. Up until now, he had stood behind her, likely hidden by the shadows. But as the jeering got louder, he set his hand to the small of her back. He didn’t push, but the warmth of his palm steadied her. Then he spoke in a low tone straight to her.
“Give me the word, Lilah, and I will step in. I can get you away now, and you will lose nothing.”
Nothing but her chance at a future. Nothing but her own self-respect. Far from giving her an out, Lord Kittrel was giving her the strength to forge ahead. Taking a deep breath, she pitched her voice until it filled the gallery. Her first words shook a bit, but they steadied soon enough. And before long, she was giving everyone the kind of show her mother had done so effortlessly. And what a surprise to find that she was capable of such a thing.
“Mr. Palmer,” she began. “I submit that you are a terrible owner of a disastrous registry office. You have abused your one employee, your files are a mess, and you fleece your customers every possible moment.”
It was a dangerous statement, mostly because it was guaranteed to raise Mr. Palmer’s ire. She knew from her discussion with his one employee that many of the gentlemen here in the den got their servants through Mr. Palmer’s business. They did not take kindly to the suggestion that they had been fleeced. And from the man’s hurried denial, he knew she was striking at the core of his business.
“The devil I do!” he cried. “I’m as honest as—”
“A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she said, though she had no idea if she was heard over him.
“—My sainted grandmother!”
She couldn’t afford to keep him scoffing at her. She needed him to agree to the challenge, so she pressed forward, first to the railing at the edge of the platform, then following Mrs. Dove-Lyon as they both descended the stairway to the gallery.
“I would run your business better,” she said. “I would ensure that your people are trained before they are sent into service. That none were thieves. And that every lord or lady could be assured of proper respect when they hired from me.” She glanced about the room. “How many of you have received a rotten worker from this man?”
Every man here had likely griped about his servants. It was what aristocrats did. They complained about the staff. It felt good to turn that ire against a man who deserved it for putting out untrained people.
“I will own your business, Mr. Palmer. And I will match mathematical wits with you to get it.”
Far from being enticed, the man rolled his eyes at her. “You aren’t worth it.”
No, from his perspective, she probably wasn’t. She drew out her purse and fanned the pound notes. “Five hundred pounds, Mr. Palmer. Is that worth it to you?”
If there was one thing the gallery respected, it was money. The greed was palpable as she waved the notes in the air.
“Goodness, Mr. Palmer,” said Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “With that kind of blunt, you could pay of your gambling debts. Maybe even have something left over for later.”
“My debts aren’t that large,” he said, but the desperation in his eyes belied the statement.
“Then do you accept her challenge?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon pressed.
Lilah smiled. “Or do you fear being bested by an ignorant woman?”
“Pshaw,” he blustered. “You’re hardly worth the effort.”
She didn’t say anything. She simply fanned out her money again. That was more than Mr. Palmer could resist.
“Accepted,” he said as he reached for the money.
“Accepted!” Mrs. Dove-Lyon cried as she grabbed the money. Then she waved the others at Mr. Palmer’s table aside, pulled out a chair for Lilah, and gestured her to sit. “And now,” she declared in dramatic accents. “Let the game begin.”
Chapter Fourteen
Aaron couldn’t keeptrack of all the threats at once. Bloody hell, whatever had possessed the woman to bring 500 pounds here? Even if she won, they’d probably be attacked, robbed, and beaten to a pulp before they made it out the front door. But there was no help for it now. The stage was set and all he could do was stand behind her and try to block every attack.