Judging by the fine quality of their clothing, they had plenty of money to lose, and she hoped she could lure them into deeper and deeper play—but not enough to ruin them. She monitored all her guests to make sure there wasn’t irrevocable damage. Just enough to smart, and to line her pockets with more coin.

“Welcome to Miss Ivy’s,” she said, gesturing to one of her staff to take the gentlemen’s outerwear. “I am Miss Ivy, and I am here to ensure your pleasure.”

Adonis gave her a knowing look. Apparently, he recovered quickly from mortification. Or rakishness was so ingrained he could be mortified and flirtatious.

“What game are you interested in playing, my lords?” she continued hurriedly. She would have to watch her words.

The handsome stranger frowned, nearly as deeply as Ivy had just a few moments earlier. “Mr. de Silva,” he said shortly. Had she accidentally offended him? By presuming he was an aristocrat rather than a mister?

She didn’t think she would point out the irony of his having just presumed information about her that was incorrect.

“Mr. de Silva,” Ivy corrected. She hadn’t ever heard of him, but then again, she didn’t travel in Society circles any longer. She hadn’t done so since she’d won the last hand of hazard against her would-be bridegroom.

“And I’m Nash,” the other man said.

Mr. de Silva punched his friend on the arm. “The Duke of Malvern. Not everyone has a title they can toss around, you know.” He gave his friend a pointed look.

The duke shrugged. Ivy had the feeling he didn’t care much one way or the other about his title.

But if he didn’t, she certainly did—a duke patronizing Miss Ivy’s! Even a taciturn stone-like duke was better than no duke at all.

“We might as well play something while we drink,” the duke said to Adonis de Silva. He glanced at Ivy. “A game of roulette to start.” He looked back at his friend, and his lips nearly curled into a smile. “Who knows, maybe your luck will change?”

As he spoke, Ivy beckoned to Samuel, who stood against the wall wearing the club uniform. Samuel was one of the completely loyal employees who made it possible for a female to own a gambling house. None of her employees argued with her decisions, they didn’t think they would be better suited for the position, and they were hard workers who helped make Miss Ivy’s the success it had been thus far.

“Samuel is my best roulette spinner.” Samuel grinned at her, acknowledging the compliment. She waited for the men to register that a Black man would be manning their table, relieved when they didn’t voice any objection, as some of her customers had. Regretfully, those customers were ex-customers, but her staff’s loyalty to her was equal to her loyalty to them.