Read Her Wanton Wager for Free Online Page B

have found my one true love and nothing could make me betray him. Gavin's hands curled in reflex. "Actually, if you see her talking with any gentleman, I want to know. Immediately."
    "O' course, guv. You can count on me," Alfie said. "Anyfin' else?"
    "No, that is all for now." As the boy started for the door, his tattered rags flapping around his thin body, Gavin sighed. "Hold up."
    Alfie turned, cocked his head.
    "Find the housekeeper. She'll get you cleaned up and give you a meal before you go."
    A sly smile tucked into the boy's cheeks. "Can one o' the 'ouse wenches give me the washin'? The pretty red-headed one wif the big—"
    "Alfie," Gavin said in a warning tone.
    "Right. The 'ousekeeper it is." The boy scampered off, whistling as he went.
    Alone, Gavin watched the dark street from the bow window. He usually savored this slice of peace before Covent Garden filled with the carts of the costermongers, bakers, and other tradesmen with their wares. Today, however, the scene struck him as barren, cold; he had an odd yearning to see the sun break across the cobblestone and the flower stalls blossom into color.
    At the sound of footsteps, he dismissed the fanciful notion and turned to see Hugh Stewart stride in. As usual, his mentor's broad, flat features had a disgruntled air, and the greying auburn beard housed a scowl. Built as solidly as a brick house, Stewart's menacing mien had preserved their hides during the years in the hulks and even after their release, when the two of them had scraped by as guards-for-hire in the stews. Now that The Underworld was a success and they'd become nearly respectable, Stewart's looming figure still came in handy, keeping rowdy customers in line.
    "How'd we do tonight?" Gavin asked.
    Dropping into a chair, Stewart stretched out legs thick as tree trunks. "Broke up three knife fights and five fisticuffs," he rumbled. "Then caught a git cheatin' at the cards and had to give 'im a beatin' myself. And that's to say nothin' 'bout the backbitin' 'twixt the 'ouse wenches."
    In sum, business as usual. Gavin poured out whiskey and joined the other man at the table. "What is amiss with the wenches?"
    Stewart downed the shot and gave him a sour look. "'Tis the bloody Roman Suite again. They all set their sights on the same toff. Told you, didn't I, that havin' all 'em hen-wits plyin' their trade in one room was bound to lead to trouble."
    "The Roman Suite adds to the club's ambiance," Gavin said.
    Stewart's broad brow furrowed. "The what?"
    "The setting. We're The Underworld after all. What would hell be like without an orgy?"
    "Never did get all your fancy words, but if I know one thing, it's that females bring nothin' but trouble." Stewart scratched the back of his neck. "And speakin' on that matter, I 'ave to tell you again, lad: I've got a bad feelin' in my gut 'bout that Fines girl."
    "I have the situation well in hand." Gavin savored the slow burn of his drink. The hot tingling was not unlike what he'd felt around Miss Percy Fines ... only then the sensations had centered farther south on his anatomy. In fact, just thinking of her—that bright, shining hair, the cheeky attitude—was enough to stir his rod.
    "What sort o' female prances around in breeches?" Stewart said. "And to 'ave the bollocks to demand you give up what's owed to you?"
    "She is brazen, I'll grant you that." In truth, Percy's contradictions intrigued Gavin. She exuded both girlish innocence and womanly allure … not to mention a hellion's spirit. Recalling the way she'd called him an arrogant ass, his lips twitched.
    "Nothin' but trouble, mark my words. Them so-called ladies'll use their wiles on you, all flutterin' eyelashes an' swishy silks. Before you know it, bam "—Stewart slammed his fist on the table—"they've hung you out to dry or worse."
    His mentor was speaking from experience. Long ago, Stewart had fancied a well-bred miss who had seemed to return his affections ... until one day her father caught her and