Chapter One: The Strange Goings On in Bedford Place
He was not the sort of man she usually chose. Across the roulette table she studied him. He was young; yes, younger than she preferred. One wondered if he yet shaved. The pink blush of innocence still tinged the pretty Englishman's cheeks, and his bones were as delicately carved as her own.
But he was not innocent. And if he were delicate, well, tant pis.
The croupier leaned over the table. "Mesdames and messieurs,
" he said in his bad French accent, "faites vos jeux, s'il vous plait!
She waved away the smoke from a nearby cheroot and placed a...