The Seductress' Marriage Ploy

1. Julia is in a gaming hell

London, England, 1830

Julia was anxious; it was almost time for her to slip out to the gaming hell. She wasn't afraid, not one bit, but she would hate for her to be caught. What a scandal it would cause for her family that the eldest daughter of the Cavendish was nothing but a vile woman, not to be associated with. Not that it bothers her what the ton has to say about her, but she was worried that should she be caught, her sister, Camila, might lose her chances of making a suitable match with a Duke or an Earl. Considering the fact that her mother, Ophelia Cavendish, would soon hold a ball in honor of her sister for her debut, and Julia would hate to be the one to cause such an uproar at the ball should her pastime be found out.

Apart from her sister and her friend who covers for her, nobody else knows what she has been up to for the past three months. Having grown tired of the company of other women of her acquaintance, who talk of nothing but the latest fashion and making a match with a reputable young man, Julia had resorted to going to gaming hells for a little excitement.

Julia donned her breeches and tucked her wild mass of ruby red hair into a somewhat large hat. She surveyed herself in a looking glass, content with what she saw there.

Her brown greatcoat, which had four capelets attached to the high collar and covered her down past her knee, rested somewhere between her knee and her ankle. It was enough to show her black pair of boots peeking out from underneath the hem of her coat and voluminous enough to completely obscure her milk-colored breeches.

She shoved her hands into the deep pockets of the greatcoat and turned to assess her profile from the left. Her clear blue eyes squinted, and she smiled a lopsided smile. Not even a hint of her ruby red curls was disclosed from underneath that hat. It masked her hair and shadowed her face, accentuating the fullness of her thick brows, the arc of her pert nose, and her piercing ocean blue eyes, which made her look more like a young lad than a pretty woman, which she was.

With one last glance at her floral embroidered looking glass, Julia slipped out of the house through her window and onto the small courtyard underneath her window. And then she was racing into the streets to hire a hackney to lead her to her desired destination, The Angels.

Underneath the cloudless sky and the full moon, encompassed with many stars and the cold night air coming through the open window, Julia allowed herself to be driven through the parts of London until they were well into the notorious St. James Street where the hell was located.

Soon the coach stopped in front of a white story building with floor-length windows. Julia got down and paid the hackney driver handsomely. And then she tipped her hat down and stepped inside No. 4 St. James Street. Julia took the steps two at a time, not out of eagerness to get to the hell fast, but out of habit, her brown greatcoat swooshing on the long narrow stairs until she reached the landing lit by nary but a single candle.

She bent her head and pushed the door open with her elbow. Rows and rows of velvet tables spanned the long gaming hell, placed strategically at different angles. Some were round, others were long and rectangular, with velvet green tops, red, or deep blue. Candlelights flickered over the rich deep mahogany floor, illuminating the room.

Billiard balls cracked against each other, and the voices of men rose in unison as they cheered in favor of a win or a loss. Julia kept her head down as she walked, her blue eyes shifting from one table to the other as she made her way to the end of the room. At one corner, a group was playing a game of hazard. One of them threw dice on a rich velvet table while another slammed his fist on the table and gulped down the contents of his glass at once. Men's voices rose as they celebrated the winner by grabbing a glass of brandy from a passing servant.