As one of the owners of London’s most infamous and scandalous gambling hall, The Underworld, Luke Reese looks like a man who has it all.
But underneath his swagger lies a pain which no amount of liquor, women or card games can ease. Because, nine months ago, Luke’s son was stolen by his half-brother, Lord Dursley.
Luke knows the agony of growing up without a family, and he will not allow his son to suffer the same fate. So when evidence leads him to Coventry and a mysterious governess named Georgina, Luke doesn’t hesitate in tracking her down.
But nothing is ever as simple as it seems in the London ton. And soon, Luke is facing his most dangerous gamble yet.
Dare he risk losing his heart to find his son?
The Last Gamble
Anabelle Bryant
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Copyright
ANABELLE BRYANT is happy to grab her suitcase if it ensures a new adventure. Anabelle finds endless inspiration in travel, especially imaginary jaunts into romantic Regency England, a far cry from her home in New Jersey. Instead, her characters live out her daydreams, because really, who wouldn’t want to dance with a handsome duke or kiss a wicked earl? A firm believer in romance, Anabelle knows sometimes life doesn’t provide a happily ever after, but her novels always do. Visit her website at AnabelleBryant.com
Having a novel published is a dream come true. Having my tenth novel published is a milestone achievement. I have only gratitude for this generous opportunity. My sincere thanks to Clio Cornish, editor, for her smart direction and belief in my work, to the entire team at HQ Digital and HarperCollins, as well as the copy editors, cover artists, reviewers and most of all, readers.
I’ve always had an active imagination. Being able to take a daydream and offer it a life of its own, shared in the form of historical romance, is a precious gift. Thank you!
This book is dedicated to dreamers.
We often are told to get our head out of the clouds.
If only they realized how lovely the view.
A moonlit sky is a thief’s worst enemy. Lucius Reese, proud proprietor of one third of The Underworld, glanced upward in appreciation of the boon found in the night heavens, not a star visible in its velvet span. Owning an exclusive gambling hell provided endless benefits, one being the ability to become equal with the darkness. Dressed completely in black, he melted into the evening hours. His low-brimmed hat and high-collared coat made him nothing more than a shadow, a whisper of suspicion were anyone to notice an anomalous movement in the alley adjacent to Welbeck Street.
Reese was a man of many titles, none of them revered by the peerage: rakehell, philanderer, and bastard most of all. Which prompted a multitude of secrets and composed a complex nature that disallowed emotion, unwilling to maintain an intimate relationship with a woman for longer than a few days. And though he valued his friendship with Maxwell Sinclair and Cole Hewitt, his partners at the hell, Reese rarely confided anything of a personal nature.
Therefore no one knew he skimmed the brick wall at the rear of the three-storey town house owned by Viscount Dursley, intent on gaining entry and perpetuating a theft that would leave the stuffy prig in an apoplectic fit. The mental image urged a grin, but Reese nudged the desire aside. How unfortunate he would not be present during the moment of realization as Dursley’s worst fear actualized. Reese would enjoy few things more than thwarting his half-brother in the twisted game played at his expense.
In silence, he smoothed a gloved hand down the mullioned paned glass of the garden terrace doors and settled on the brass and strike plate. His fingertip located the keyhole and, with his left hand, he twisted the knob to confirm the lock held. Utilizing the expertise learned through his years on the street, he produced a short metal pick, inserted it into the lock, and gained entry two breaths later.
Stepping into the ground-floor drawing room, he allowed his stifled