Florian didn’t see Lord Twiningham on Bond Street, but it occurred to him that the bouncer at the Hellfire Club was unlikely to know that. He knew from Del’s chatterbox of a youngest sister that the young heir to the Twiningham fortune was expected to squire his mother and sisters to yet another society function that evening. Thus, he was unlikely to be at the Club still. Counting on this, the elegant blond stood confidently at the doorway to the Club.

Presenting his calling card to the burly doorman, Florian looked down his straight nose and instructed the man in his lightly accented English, “Advise Lord Twiningham that the Duke of Rochefort is here.” Florian’s austere gaze at his surroundings conveyed the unspoken message that he was not impressed with the building, the neighborhood, the former pugilist, the pugilist’s place of employment, and had little expectation of the pugilist repeating his spoken message correctly, but that it was his lot in life to have even his low expectations forever unmet.

If Laila weren’t so concerned over Noir, the sight of Florian being so perfectly rude would have reduced her to giggles. Even Noir wasn’t that arrogant! She hadn’t noticed the cane he flourished before now but it made quite an impression on her as he tapped it impatiently on the step while the ugly man with the cauliflower ear examined his card. The large man bowed as obsequiously as a man of his bulk could.

“Come right this way, yer Lordship, I mean, yer Honor....” The man’s ruddy face grew even redder as he strove to recall the proper form of address for a Duke. “Yer Grace...that’s it!”

Florian nodded infinitesimally, an ironic look on his face. “I take it I have been deemed acceptable to enter your fine establishment? My servant will take my hat, thank you, my good man.” He quickly handed his hat and cane to Laila, who was dressed now in the garb of a private young servant boy. Florian knew he wouldn’t be able to shake her from his side and decided it would be better for both of them if she were to be the personal servant of a Duke rather than disguised as just another servant in a gambling house of shady repute. His title offered ostensible protection to her. Meanwhile, her fighting skills offered very real protection to him should matters become less than cordial. If he knew this type of place as he thought he did, however, the dealings should be all very gentlemanly in their underhandedness. But, better safe than sorry.

Many a young nobleman lost his fortune and his honor in a gaming hell such as this one. Both his father and his godfather had warned him of such places when he was just entering his teens. Florian knew that among his social circle, if such a thing were to happen as for a young nobleman to gamble away his fortune, the only “honorable” thing left for such a man to do was to kill himself. Thus, he was told, the way was left open for a better man to inherit, assuming there was anything left to inherit. Many a widow and orphan was paupered due to gambling debts, which were considered “debts of honor” that had to be paid; much more so than any debt to a merchant or tradesman, who no doubt needed the money far more than some cardsharp. Indeed, many of these so called “debts of honor” were paid to less than honorable men who made a living preying upon the innocent and gullible young men of society, either misleading them as to the level of their own skill, or outright cheating if necessary. To prevent such a fate, Florian’s godfather, who had been a bit of a rogue, endeavored to teach young Florian the facts of life of their world and also how to be skilled enough to recognize the cheaters, and to win against most other players.

The Rocheforts no longer had a fortune by the time Florian came of age, but as his godfather had bluntly told him years earlier, there were some things that men wanted just as much as the gold from a pretty young man’s pockets.

“It’s all the same to me how a man wishes to spend his money or his pleasure, young Florian.” Uncle Etienne had winked at the teenaged boy. “But you want it to be on your terms, which, given the way your parents are, is going to be hard enough, mon petit. So, it’s up to me to see that you have a fighting chance against the other bloodsuckers that are out there...your mother and father I can do nothing about, I’m afraid. Especially your mother. I wasn’t able to save your father from her, so I doubt I’ve any chance of saving you from her schemes, although I’ll try, mon petit, I’ll try.”

Alas, his godfather went missing some time after that conversation; lost during one of his adventures to the East. Thanks to his tutelage, however, Florian was an expert in most games of chance, especially cards. As he was ushered into the opulently decorated room, his face a mask of well bred boredom despite his inner anxiety, Florian gave inward thanks for those hours of lessons, as well as for his mother’s strict instruction in the proper demeanor for a duke under all circumstances–which, while it didn’t specifically cover gambling hells, was detailed enough to cover high brow dens of iniquity in general. It often occurred to him that had he not been quite so willing to martyr himself for his family’s pride, he could have had a successful career as a card sharp. As it was, due to his maternal uncle’s dastardly deeds, his “sacrifice” didn’t save his mother or his ancestral home. But, it did bring Ray into his life. Funny how life works out, he mused as his card was taken in to the Club’s owner.

Florian instructed Laila to wait for him in the small room that adjoined the main gambling room and told her not to lose his hat and cane. She scowled at what she thought was an unnecessary reminder, until he whispered that the innocent looking cane had a thin but deadly rapier secreted inside it. He didn’t anticipate needing it, but his time with Noir had taught him that it helped to be prepared for the unexpected. The cane had been a gift from his godfather.

Within minutes, a very slender, very stylishly dressed man came out to greet him. To Laila's surprise, the man appeared to be wearing make-up. Staring more closely, she saw that it wasn’t a man at all, but a woman! In a man’s suit, with heels, slicked back hair and a cigarette holder! Unlike Laila, who was attempting, successfully, she felt, to pass as a boy, and made no attempt to look feminine, this creature was deliberately trying to blend the genders. This was an extremely odd place, Laila thought, confused, wishing they were home. She looked at Florian, to see what he thought of the strange man/woman, but his face still wore that well bred look of boredom.

“Your Grace, it is an honor for our establishment to enjoy your patronage...but I am sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings. Your friend, Lord Twiningham has been called away...let me be so bold as to introduce myself. I am Adrian, the host for this evening. Perhaps we can find other congenial company and entertainment for you? A game of cards? A glass of wine to refresh you while you decide?”

“That would be pleasant, Adrian, thank you. A glass of port would be acceptable. I see a good friend of mine, Court Courland, but I do not believe I am familiar with his companion...?”

Florian made himself appear to look interested in the man sitting opposite his Ray when in fact his only concern was in seeing how his lover fared. A brief glance was enough to tell him all was not well. While Ray’s face looked as calm as ever, the straight set of his shoulders bespoke problems. Ray was unusual in that when he was having trouble controlling himself, it was reflected in even better posture. Indeed, the few times Florian had been in his company when Ray had been intoxicated, the younger man had spoken with the clearest of diction and walked and sat with the straightest posture imaginable. Very similar to his posture now, Florian realized, with a sinking feeling. He turned his attention back to the androgynous creature before him.

The gleam of avarice was shining in Adrian’s oddly colored, almost golden eyes. “I am sure that Lord Mayles would be pleased to meet you, Your Grace, especially if you are already acquainted with Count Courland. They are coming near the end of their play, I believe. They’ve been at it for some time.”

“Perhaps I can convince them to take a break and enjoy a glass with me,” Florian said lightly. “Could I impose on you to bring a bottle of your best port and three glasses to the table, my dear?” He smiled his best smile, generating a responsive smile. Of course, he thought cynically, whether her warmth was due to the charm of his smile or the thoughts of the money she hoped her house would win from him was up to debate. But either way, she was ordering a servant to bring the port quickly and leading Florian directly to his goal.

“Gentlemen, Lord Mayles, Count Courland, may I interrupt your game for a moment please? Your Grace, I believe you know Court Courland, and I have the pleasure of introducing the Earl of Mayles. Lord Mayles, His Grace, the Duke de Rochefort.”

“Courland, Mayles.” Florian accepted their bows with a nod of his head and his brief smile. He deliberately acknowledged Ray first, just to see if Mayles would reveal any reaction to the faux pas, but he didn’t. Mayles was a tall, broad shouldered man, with an aquiline nose, high cheek bones and thin lips. Looking at him objectively, Florian thought he could be considered handsome in a cold way. Florian realized that the man was looking at him just as appraisingly. Florian noticed that Ray’s usually keen eyes seemed slightly unfocused, the pupils in his eyes so large that the emerald green barely showed. Drugs in the wine rather than a surfeit of wine, Florian thought grimly. They aren’t leaving anything to chance here. Ray must have proved too shrewd a card player for them. He was relieved that Ray hadn’t been so upset that he forgot his usual caution that was so much a part of who he was.

The servant brought the wine. With a smile, Florian requested a pitcher of water as well. Mayles cocked an eyebrow at him as they raised their glasses but he ignored the question inherent in the man’s expression for the moment.

“I propose a toast,” Florian said with a smile around the table. “To new friendships, and old.” He gave Ray a suggestive smile and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he sipped from his glass. Mayles glanced at him, surprised. Ray locked eyes with him and a flash of Noir appeared in his smoky green eyes. Good, Florian thought, he’s not too far gone despite whatever they’ve done to him.

“I take it you and Courland are very good friends, Your Grace,” Mayles inquired, his voice deep and silky.

Really quite pleasant for a bad guy, Florian thought, sarcastically. He placed his glass on the table. “Quite,” Florian agreed. “Please, call me Rochefort. But what are you playing? Is it possible for a third to join in? I love...games.”

“We are playing piquet. I believe we have one more hand before all is decided. Isn’t that right, my dear Courland? Quite a stake it is too, those lovely Emeralds for all that you’ve lost? Once that is determined, Rochefort, I am sure you and I can reach an accord. You seem to have a fine pair of Amethysts....”

“Ah, but they are not mine to barter away, Mayles. I have something else I intend to wager....I must confess, however, that I am partial to piquet...Courland...Ray.... would you and Mayles be interested in a little side bet...to determine if I can take over your hand and seat at the table?”

Ray frowned, his focus almost completely lost. “Florian...I don’t...” He lifted his hand to his head and rubbed it across his eyes, trying to clear them. He lifted his eyes to Florian again, recognition clear for a moment. “Florian, what...?”

“Let me roll the dice, Ray...and we shall decide who plays, is that okay with you? My ring against ....what do you wager, Mayles?” Florian’s voice remained light as he turned towards his opponent, placing his heavy gold signet ring, with its center cut sapphire on the table.

The man’s cold grey eyes brightened with lust as he looked from the blond Florian to the dark haired Ray, who was barely able to keep upright in his seat. Adrian had overdone the narcotic in the wine, Mayles thought, with a smirk. But the blond looked too innocent to realize anything was amiss. “I believe I will accept that, since our friend Courland is clearly feeling under the weather. So, as a show of good faith, I’ll permit you to take over his seat, forfeit this hand and start fresh. Is that acceptable? If you win the roll of the dice, that is. But the next game still has his Emeralds at stake, as well as, shall we say, his Amethysts, to sweeten the pot, in exchange for the rest of the winnings?”

Florian smiled. He held the dice in his hands; weighted, as he suspected. He tossed them lightly from hand to hand as he held Mayles eyes, seemingly weighing his offer, but what he actually was doing was weighing the dice, and determining what numbers they were set to fall on most often. He knew that weighted dice were generally set to fall as ones, or snake eyes, double sixes, or a mix of the two, and produce a “lucky seven.” Moving the dice to one hand, he loosened his tie with his free hand and smiled again at the older man as the grey eyes shifted to the long slim line of Florian’s graceful neck. Florian teased his hand along his throat as he loosened the first couple of buttons of his formal ruffled shirt.

“It is quite warm in here, isn’t it? It’s why I requested the water...I get so hot playing cards,” he confided to the other man. “Perhaps you could find out what is keeping the man...?” He let his voice trail off.

Mayles looked eagerly at the inches of pale skin Florian had exposed and then over at Ray.

“Leslie! Where is his Grace’s water? Bring it immediately” Mayles looked back over at the two younger men. “Perhaps Courland would feel more comfortable if he were to loosen his tie as well?”

“Ah, perhaps...” Florian nodded agreeably, although he was fuming inside. The older man was practically drooling, he thought. But, the more distracted he was, the more advantageous it was for Florian. As Mayles left to hurry the servant with the water, Florian leaned over and removed the tainted wine glass from Ray’s hand and under the guise of removing his tie and loosening his collar, he whispered in his lover’s ear. “Please don’t do anything to interfere, Ray...you’ve been drugged by our dear friend here. Laila is waiting in the anteroom...we’ll have you out of here in no time, just sit tight.”

Ray clasped Florian’s hands with his; his eyes a dark mossy green as they looked deep into Florian’s. “I’ve lost, Florian, everything,” he whispered desperately. “Don’t play with this man. You can’t win. You must leave now. The money isn’t important.”

“No, Ray, I’m not leaving without those ‘Emeralds’ you so foolishly bet. So let me get into this game and win them back for you...I may not be the connoisseur that you are, but I’m partial to those particular gems of yours.”

Ray’s response was cut off by the return of their companion, followed by the servant with a pitcher of ice water and fresh glasses as well as some other refreshments. Florian smiled sweetly at the Earl and made a point of drinking slowly from the glass of water, which tasted normal. He nodded for the servant to pour a glass for Ray as well. He managed to place his wine glass directly in the unknowing servant’s way so that he knocked it over as he was pouring the water, much to the poor man’s dismay and Mayles’ anger. Several other gentlemen looked over as the peer berated the man for his clumsiness until Florian intervened, in his gently humorous way.

“Indeed, the wine was not all that much to my taste anyway, my dear Mayles. Shall we roll the dice at last and see if I can continue in my friend Courland’s place...I am so very fond of piquet. I played it quite a few times when in school with the most charming fellows.”

Mayles settled back in his seat, from which he had half risen in his temper, and his cool smile returned to his face. “It does seem that it would be a shame if you were not to enjoy a game now in that case. Do you wish to call then?”

“I think I feel lucky today...so lucky seven should be it for me, but with emeralds and amethysts at stake, I think I shall call it at...ones...for snake eyes, you must realize.”

Florian smiled disingenuously as he released the dice, and indeed the two dice rolled to a stop at ones, causing Florian to give the table, and indeed, the room a delighted smile.

“I do believe this roll goes to me, my dear Mayles...but the night is young...and there are so many games that are fun to play. Don’t you agree?” Florian made a show of letting the tip of his tongue dip into the cool water of his glass and then wet his lips slowly. Mayles watched avidly. He gave a half smile as Florian reached out to retrieve his signet ring and slip it back onto his finger.

The older man drawled, “Well, it looks as though you are quite versatile at a few games, Rochefort. Shall we try a few others or shall we get right down to playing piquet?”

“Oh, piquet, to be sure. Shall we say, best out of three hands? Winner takes all?”

“It’s a deal.”

 

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