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Twasn’t like she could compete with Celeste’s hourglass figure and curly black hair.
    Two muscular guards stood at the door. Harold Bristol, the owner, only invited the wealthy—the very wealthy. Those who tried to enter uninvited ended up at the nearby doctor’s office. Harold’s word was law.
    One of the guards opened the door. “Good evening, Maîtresse D’Aubigne.”
    “Charles,” Celeste said.
    Charles didn’t greet Violet. He never did.
    Violet followed Celeste into the gaming room. Harold’s was crowded with women of ill repute. Wives were not allowed to come, because they were thought to keep their husbands from gambling. Cheap laughter and the clanging of glasses hurt Violet’s ears. She wanted to be outside rather in this greed pit.
    Celeste entered the primero room, where four men, including the dealer, sat at a round table. When she walked in, all four men stood.
    “Welcome Maîtresse D’Aubigne,” the dealer said. He had gray around his temples, and his wire-rimmed glasses made his gray eyes sharper.
    “I hope I’m not late,” Celeste said as she toyed with the diamond pendant that lay between the valley of her breasts. 
    Tall, blond, and arrogant, Captain Stocking rushed over to the empty chair and pulled it out. “No, not at all. My, my, that’s a shiny trinket you’ve got there.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the diamond.
    “This old thing,” she laughed. “I didn’t know you had arrived, Capitaine. You didn’t come and see me.” She pouted and stuck out her hand.
    Her deep voice grated Violet’s nerves.
    Captain Stocking kissed Celeste’s hand. “I just arrived last night and have delivered new slaves to the auctioneer. I’m sure you’ll find some to your liking.” He played with his mustache and glanced over at Violet, who sat in her usual seat against the wall.
    The captain never looked at her face; he always stared at her breasts. She didn’t know why since her breasts were much smaller than Celeste’s. Violet glared and only received a mild amused smirk from the captain. She clutched her hands tight. Captain Stocking’s ship was the Magnificent , a notorious slave ship. Slaves arrived in horrible conditions—starved, beaten, diseased.
    Simon Overly smiled, and his lewd gaze stripped Celeste of her gown. Violet hated his constant leering stare, but Celeste did not seem to mind. In fact, she encouraged his lecherous attention. 
    “You look lovely tonight, Celeste,” he said. “I missed seeing you last night.”
    Celeste waved her fan in front of her face. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
    Violet bit her lip to keep from blurting the truth. What would the youngest son of the Overly Viscounts think if he knew Celeste passed him over for a slave?
    Shrill female laughter made Violet jump. The door opened. Eyes blurry, Brett Livingston hung all over a blond prostitute who was at least twenty years his junior. He kissed her on the lips. “I’ll see you later, Candy.”
    She turned and he pinched her buttocks. She squealed and swung her head, her expression blank.
    Violet didn’t know if the woman squeaked from pleasure or pain. Livingston was rumored to be generous, but he demanded the women indulge in his every depravity.
    “One of these days, Harold’s has to let me have a lady in here.” He licked his narrow lips.
    “Prostitutes are forbidden in here,” the dealer said. “Only ladies are permitted.” He gave Celeste an approving smile.
    Violet wanted to inform each of the men of what the lady did to her slaves, but the men wouldn’t believe her. Celeste’s beauty fooled all of the idiots. She didn’t feel bad about helping Celeste steal from them. None of the men had any morals.
      She had the perfect angle to observe the men. Celeste had given her signals on how to decipher if the men were bluffing or had a winning hand or a losing hand. Violet was supposed to twirl her hair around her finger if a man bluffed, rub her nose if they held a winning hand,