Bollocks to that, as their cook liked to say when she thought no one was listening. Florence craved the danger and freedom in every part of the city, especially the ones off-limits to her. Why should she be cast out of society’s good graces for occasionally doing what every man her age did nightly?

Her casino would change that. An illegal gaming hall where society ladies could lose their pin money and jewelry without fear of recrimination. No men permitted meant no judgment or gossip. The women would be free to enjoy themselves, to live their lives without men ruining everything.

If only she could unionize the entire female race . . .

After following his directions, she found herself on the balcony overlooking the casino floor. She sucked in a breath. He would be able to see everything from up here.

“I knew you were watching.”

He came to stand shoulder to shoulder with her at the railing. “When there’s a potential problem in my casino, yes.”

“Is that what I was, a potential problem?”

“An innocent woman in a lion’s den is always a problem.”

“I am not innocent.” She froze. The words had escaped her mouth like a locomotive traveling at high speed. All because she’d wished to counter his opinion of her as a sheltered uptown schoolgirl.

Idiot. What did she care if Clayton Madden thought her green? Unfortunately, there was no taking the sentence back. Perhaps he’d act a gentleman and let it go.

“Fumbling kisses from boys between waltzes hardly counts,” he said, and her hopes of gentlemanly behavior died right then. No need to mention she hadn’t stopped at fumbling kisses. God knew she’d already said too much.

He gestured to the floor. “Men who gamble here are often drunk or high on the thrill of a win. An unescorted woman can prove a temptation some men cannot resist taking, regardless of whether she agrees or not. You saw what nearly happened to your sister.”

“You needn’t worry about me. I’m able to handle myself.”

“Oh, indeed.”

His tone implied he didn’t believe her, but she let it go and took in the scene below. Patrons were clustered throughout the casino floor, every table full. The crush of well-dressed men, with their black evening wear and thick billfolds, was a thing of beauty. How had Clay managed to build this up so quickly? The Bronze House wasn’t even a year old.

The minutes ticked by and he said nothing. Her impatience got the better of her. “Is there a point to standing here or are you fleecing me out of one hundred dollars?”

“I was waiting to see how long it would take before you asked. Yes, there is a point. Close your eyes.”

“What?” She cast him a sideways glance. “Why?”