Free Luck Be a Lady by Meredith Duran Page A

Masculine blandishments were wasted on an ice queen. “Then unknot it,” she said, “and hurry up. I have appointments to keep.”
    His smile faded. “The Municipal Board of Works has become a thorn in my side. I’ve got two buildings to the west of here, condemned by an inspector that answers to Pilcher. He’s got no authority in Whitechapel, but it seems the fine lads at Berkeley House will entertain his petition anyway.”
    â€œHis petition to . . . ?”
    â€œKnock down my buildings. He calls them hazardous.” O’Shea shrugged. “I’ve put forward my own petition to stop it, but that’ll take another vote. When I add up the friends I’ve got on that board, I’m short by a single man. Your brother’s vote would make the difference for me.”
    Understanding welled up, and with it, disgust. The Municipal Board of Works had undertaken a campaign to raze unsafe buildings and ensure decent housing for the poor. Mr. O’Shea opposed this, as all slumlords did. How low. How revolting.
    But personal sentiments had no place in business. With difficulty, she checked her distaste. “I’m afraid I have no influence over him. I could not persuade him to spare your buildings.”
    â€œI expect not,” he said dryly. “You can’t even stop him from robbing you.”
    She bridled. “Yes, thank you for the reminder. I do enjoy this plain speaking, sir.”
    â€œAin’t it fun?” He took hold of his fist, cracking his knuckles noisily. “Now, what we require, seems to me, is a proper piece of blackmail. Something to bring yourbrother to heel for us both. You say the threat can’t touch on the auction house, or he’d never believe you meant it. So it must be . . .” He frowned. “Some information which he knows you might reveal, at negligible harm to yourself. At the same time, revealing it would ruin his hopes for a political career.”
    â€œClever,” she said flatly. “Pity I know no such secrets.”
    â€œMind you, it must serve my purposes, too. I want his votes, now and in the future.”
    â€œAnd I would like a world in which Everleigh’s belonged only to me,” she said. “But I deal in fact, not fiction.”
    He leaned forward, his weight on his elbows. His full lips canted into a half smile that made her stomach flip. “Then we’ll have to make a fiction into fact,” he said. “You share a roof, true?”
    She nodded, biting her lip very hard as a punishment for the stupid tripping of her pulse.
    â€œYou’ve got all the access we need, then. You’ll plant something. Proof of a scandal that he must hide, if he wants to keep himself in the good books of his fancy friends.”
    She blew out a breath. “Proof of what?” Peter gambled—but who didn’t? He was a philanderer—but he never took up with married women. “You must help me,” she said. Her mind did not work in such low, corrupt ways.
    He sighed. “Well . . . they’re not ruling on the buildings for a week or two, yet. Give me some time to think on it.”
    â€œI don’t have time! I told you, he means to sell the company!”
    â€œPity,” he said, not without sympathy. “And here my niece told me you owned half the place.”
    â€œI do, but I can’t oppose him unless I’m—”
    Married.
    Her mouth fell open. He arched a brow, but she felt unable to speak. An idea—a preposterous, astounding, utterly unthinkable idea—exploded through her like a firework.
    No. She could not propose it.
    But for Everleigh’s . . . for the sake of Everleigh’s, was there anything she would not do?
    God help her. “I know a way,” she whispered.
    â€œOh?” His gaze fixed on her, intense and unwavering. So a man would look, when sighting his pistol. A criminal. A