Read Online Queen of Diamonds by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page A

heartfelt expletive. Nor the fact that the female might be in trouble. Besides, she was taking too long. He had business to conduct, a bastard to confront, and politeness extended only so far. The lady in black was beautiful, and her dog well-behaved, but still, she was in The Red and the Black, which meant she was not entitled to all the niceties of a ballroom.
    Still, he was a gentleman, so Harry stepped closer to the front of the room and asked, “Pardon, miss, is there some difficulty?”
    Difficulty? The casino was closed, her dreaded confrontation with the Carde family was delayed yet again, and her best friend was bent on a life of sin. Where was the difficulty for the broad gentleman in his casual yet expensive attire? “Nothing that could concern you, sir,” she said a bit abruptly, despite his courtesy. She was angry at the situation, at this stranger for witnessing it, and the fact that she felt too weak to leave the office. All her energy and efforts had gone into meeting Captain Jack Endicott today, here, at last. Now she had no strength to face the same prospect at a later date.
    â€œCome, Hellen,” she said, disguising her relief that her knees had not yet buckled beneath her, they had been knocking together so hard. “Let us sit here and discuss our next move.”
    Hellen sank onto the hard wooden bench beside her, as despondent as Queenie was drained. “Well, at least you are not going to become a schoolmarm any time soon.”
    A teacher? Harry could not imagine a female less like the image in his mind of a schoolmistress. The raven-curled fancy piece had no pinched face, no scraped back hair, no shapeless, colorless gown hiding whatever feminine attributes she possessed. Even if she had been garbed in a sack, her eyes when she looked at him would have given her away. Siren’s eyes, they were, calling a man to drown in their blue, blue depths. They were more intense, more vivid even than the lady’s in the portrait, perhaps enhanced by the artful use of cosmetics Harry thought he could detect. No, this gorgeous female was no elevated governess.
    And she was no business of his.
    Harry stepped closer toward the desk and held out his hand to the younger man, who was still staring after the woman as if she had stolen his heart or his wits, the poor blighter.
    â€œI am Harking, a friend of Jack Endicott’s,” Harry said. “I have come to speak to Jack on a personal matter.”
    The man took his hand, but also bowed, recognizing Quality, if not Harry’s specific title. “I regret the captain is out of town, my lord.”
    â€œThen perhaps one of his minions might speak with me on a delicate topic?”
    â€œI am sorry, but no one else is here. The club is closed. As I was telling the ladies, The Red and the Black is about to be turned into a school.”
    Jack Endicott running a school? The devil-may-care cub had barely managed to stay in school on his own account, from what Harry recalled. Tugging his knitted muffler around his neck again, Harry said, “It seems I have wasted my morning, then.”
    The younger man, at least seven years Harry’s junior, seemed to be sincere in his attempt to help a friend of his employer, especially one who must appear fresh from the country. “Perhaps I can be of assistance? I am familiar with London, if not the intricacies of a roulette wheel.”
    Harry had to try something. He lowered his voice, although the women were holding a private discussion on one of the benches. “I am in town looking for a certain man. I was hoping Jack might know of him or his whereabouts. His name is Sir John Martin, and I have reason to believe he is a gambler and a wastrel.” He held his hand up to forestall the other man’s protests. “Not that I am implying that Captain Endicott’s former clientele was such a gathering of loose fish, but that Jack might have known about his ilk.”
    Mr.