“Good, yes. That is why we have several men walking the floor at all times. They watch the games to ensure our dealers and croupiers are on the level and that players are not working in conjunction with another guest. Anything else?”

She stared at the cards, an adorable crease deepening on her forehead. “I don’t know.”

He dealt himself two cards, keeping one facedown. “Stand there.” He pointed to the seat farthest to the right. “Watch the bottom card.” When she was in position he lifted the hidden card to check it.

“I saw it,” she exclaimed. “Six of clubs.”

“Correct.” He flipped the card over. “Some dealers are sloppy and check their cards before the betting ends. It’s not malicious, just idiotic. Now, let’s move on to the craps table.”

Over the next two hours, they moved between the other games. She was an adept pupil, asking all the right questions and giving him her full attention. He stopped thinking of her as Duncan Greene’s daughter, a rich Knickerbocker princess, and more like a comrade. A confidante that understood the inner workings of a casino. He hadn’t been this frank with anyone other than Jack in a long time.

When they finished, he wasn’t quite ready to end their intimate lesson. He propped a hip against the roulette table. “I’m curious. What do you do with your considerable winnings? Buy a new dress or hat or diamond?”

Delicate fingers curled around the edge of the empty roulette wheel and flicked it. The wheel spun, a mesmerizing blur of red, black and metal. “No, I donated it to a charity that helps families in the tenements.”

His jaw fell open. A . . . charity? Of course. God knew she didn’t need the money. Her family was obscenely wealthy. No doubt Duncan spoiled his three daughters.

Only, Florence didn’t seem spoiled. A spoiled girl didn’t go into business for herself—a dangerous business that certainly would cause her ruination. A spoiled girl didn’t donate her casino winnings to charity. And a spoiled girl didn’t hire the king of the city’s gambling trade to corrupt her.

A rare exception, indeed.

“Have you always wanted to own a casino?”

Her question caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to return his personal inquiry with one of her own. “No, but I had an aptitude for it. My uncle operated one of the most popular saloons east of the Bowery. When my family moved to Delancey Street, I spent a lot of time in that saloon, learning numbers and doing the books. I started organizing games on the street around thirteen. At sixteen, I expanded to poolrooms and policy shops. By twenty-two, I’d found Jack and the two of us went into business together.”

“And the rest of your family?”