by Darcy Burke
She pressed against the arm of the settee, and her skirt brushed his boot. “Surely this is another problem Lord Lucien can solve. Particularly since this affects his sister, and he owns the club.”
“Put like that, it sounds rather achievable. Rest assured, I will speak with him on the matter.”
“I must say, I don’t understand why Lady Pickering hasn’t been invited. She seems like precisely the sort of well-respected woman in Society that the club would want to include.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because everyone always speaks of her with awe and admiration. Besides, didn’t you say Lord Lucien helped you gain her support as my sponsor? That would infer they are at least friendly. Why wouldn’t he invite her to his club?”
“Because it isn’t just up to him.”
“I think there are things you know about the club and its policies that you aren’t telling me.” She straightened, her eyes rounding. “Are you on the membership committee?”
“Why would you think that?” He’d responded too damn quickly and with too much vehemence. He forced a laugh. “If I was on the membership committee, I could ensure you were invited to the balls.”
Setting her elbow on the arm of the settee, she rested her chin on her palm. “Could you? So the membership committee does more than invite members. They control every aspect of the club?”
“I can’t say because I’m not a member of the committee.”
“Not allowing women to become members until after they wed is a terrible policy, as is not letting them be invited to an assembly unless they are sponsored by a member.”
Tobias ran his hand through his hair, then silently cursed himself for appearing agitated in any way. “It is not a terrible policy to disallow young, unmarried women membership. To do so would ruin the young woman.”
She cocked her head, her hand still supporting her chin. “But it doesn’t ruin older unmarried women?”
“They are already—” He snapped his mouth closed. He wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say, but nothing would be good. He’d yet to determine exactly what made a woman a spinster and found that the idea genuinely intrigued him. “I don’t disagree that the policy is unfair. However, it mirrors Society’s rules, and we must abide by them.” Except wasn’t the point of the club to buck the ton’s conventions and rigidity?
Yes, but they still couldn’t lead young ladies to ruin.
She lowered her arm, keeping the elbow on the settee. “I apologize if I seem rather naïve about these matters. Society is unnecessarily complicated, in my humble opinion.”
“I don’t disagree with you,” he murmured. “And I find your naïvete refreshing.”
She leaned toward him. “Do you?” Her dark eyes met his with unabashed curiosity.
He found himself pitching forward as well so that their faces were only a few inches apart. “Utterly.”
“My lord?”
Tobias and Miss Wingate jumped at precisely the same moment, their noses colliding with such force that they both fell back against their respective pieces of furniture with a collective “Ow!”
He held his face as numbness crawled up his nose. Miss Wingate did the same, her hand cradled over her nose and mouth.
“I beg your pardon,” Carrin said. “Mr. Dyer is here for your scheduled meeting.”
Hell, Tobias had forgotten all about that. And he’d even been thinking about Dyer a few minutes ago.
Tobias was unaccountably disappointed. Glancing toward Carrin, he slowly lowered his hand from his face. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Did he sound as if he had a cold?
Carrin inclined his head and departed.
Tobias instantly turned to Miss Wingate. “Are you all right?”
She nodded as she slowly removed her hand from her face. Wiggling her nose, she said, “I think so.”
He couldn’t stop staring at her reddened nose and the alluring way she was moving it. Because her lips also moved, and now he was fixed on them as well.
Hell.
Carefully, he rose from the chair, lest they suffer some sort of additional mishap. “I’m terribly sorry about that.”
“It was an accident.” She laughed softly. “I’m rather good at those since coming to town. I promise my agility wasn’t this poor before.”
“It’s my influence. I’m making you clumsy.”
“How can it be your fault?” She shook her head briskly. “I haven’t noticed that you are clumsy at all.”
“Given what just happened, I don’t think you can rule it out. Perhaps you should rethink your plans to delay finding a husband so you may get away from me as soon as possible.” He’d meant it as a joke, but the moment he saw the discomfort flit through her gaze, he regretted it. “That was a jest. All of this was a jest. Of course I haven’t affected your agility.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
“I must meet with my secretary now. Keep hammering away on the pianoforte, if you like.” He smiled at her on his way out.
As he made his way to his study, he wondered why, in addition to his still smarting nose, his lips were also tingling.
Chapter 10
“How do I look?” Cassandra sat straight in the hack as it rattled its way along Bond Street toward Piccadilly. She smoothed her hand over the front of her dark green apron and adjusted the white cap covering her dark curls.
“Like a Society miss dressed up as a maid.” Fiona giggled.
Grinning, Cassandra flopped back against the seat. “Hopefully no one will look too closely.”
Fiona settled her own cap over her hair, which she’d personally dressed into a tight, simple style. “I, on the other hand, probably appear quite normal.”
“I’ve no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but you also look like a Society miss in costume.”
Did she? Fiona wasn’t sure she believed that. She was barely a Society miss. And she didn’t feel like one this week since she wasn’t going to any events. Not that she could complain. Yesterday’s shopping excursion to Cheapside with Cassandra’s aunt had more than made up for anything Fiona was missing. Cheapside was a teeming, vibrant area with so many sights and sounds. She’d even tried caviar from a cart.
Cassandra’s aunt had brought along a friend, and they’d all but ignored Fiona and Cassandra, so purchasing their costumes had been unremarked upon. They’d encountered some difficulty finding gray dresses that fit them properly. As a result, their garments were both a tad too large.
The hack turned onto Piccadilly, where they planned to disembark at Duke Street and walk to the club. Fiona’s insides churned with excitement and anxiety.
After proclaiming themselves ill and stating their plans to remain abed all day, they’d both slipped from their houses and met where Brook Street met Grosvenor Square. Keeping their heads down, they’d hurried to Bond Street and caught a hack, which had been an exciting endeavor on its own. No one could say Fiona wasn’t having an adventure.
The hack came to a stop at the designated location and disembarked. Cassandra paid the driver, then linked arms with Fiona as they started down Duke Street.
“I wish you were coming to the ball on Saturday,” Cassandra said. “What will I do without you there?”
“Dance, make conversation, and generally shine like a diamond?”
Cassandra snorted. “The diamond part is highly debatable. My father is annoyed that no one has paid me a call yet.”
“Why do you suppose that is?” Fiona hadn’t received any either, but she wasn’t surprised.
“The Season is in its infancy. If it were a person, it would still be drooling.”
Fiona laughed. “Is your father annoyed just to be annoying?”
“Precisely.” Cassandra looked at her askance. “I thought Lord Gregory might have called on you by now.”
“Really, why?”
“It seemed you shared a connection. And that you liked him well enough.”
“I did. I do.” Fiona t
hought back to their promenade and dance. “What constitutes a connection?”
“Sharing things in common, finding things to laugh about, but most importantly a physical…magnetism where you’re drawn together.”
Fiona suddenly thought of the other day when she and Overton had crashed noses. Just before that had happened there’d been something…odd. What Cassandra described was somewhat how Fiona had felt, as if she were being pulled toward him. Additionally, they did laugh together. She found him rather engaging. It was hard not to when he went out of his way to do nice things, such as procure a pianoforte and hire a teacher who was coming to give her a lesson on Friday.
“You’re thinking about Lord Gregory,” Cassandra observed.
She wasn’t at all, but Fiona wouldn’t admit that. And she certainly wouldn’t reveal who she was thinking about.
“Is that the servants’ entrance up ahead?” Fiona asked. Near the corner of Duke Street and Ryder Street, there was a gate to a set of steep, narrow stairs that led down to the lower level of the women’s side of the club.
“Yes.” Cassandra quickened her pace, and Fiona hurried to keep up.
When they arrived at the gate, Cassandra took her arm from Fiona’s and reached for the latch. Fiona tipped her head back to look up at the building. “So this is the Phoenix Club,” she whispered.
“Try not to look at it in awe.” Cassandra opened the gate and started down the stairs.
Fiona followed, pulling the gate closed behind her. At the bottom of the stairs, there was an area for coal storage as well as other items, but Fiona didn’t pay close attention.
“Ready?” Cassandra asked, her hand on the door.
“Yes,” Fiona breathed.
Then they were inside the rather dim interior of a corridor. Their plan was to find cleaning implements and make their way upstairs. Fiona had managed that part of the scheme. They’d polish furniture or clean floors. In truth, they’d do neither, but that’s what they would pretend if they encountered anyone, which, of course, they would.
Immediately, as it happened.
As they made their way along the corridor, another maid—dressed in a gray gown and dark green apron, just as Prudence had said—walked past them without a word or eye contact.
“Excellent,” Cassandra murmured.
Fiona glanced about, eager to find their props. She poked her head into one doorway, only to jerk it back out again after seeing two maids in conversation. “Not in there,” she whispered.
Moving on, she tried another door, this one closed.
“Careful,” Cassandra urged.
She was being careful. Fiona gently opened the door and peered inside. It was a pantry of some kind with…cleaning supplies! “Success!”
Removing a bucket and some rags, she turned and handed the former to Cassandra. “We should fill this before we go upstairs. Otherwise, we won’t be convincing at all.”
“Where do we do that?”
“There might be a pump in the kitchen?” Fiona wasn’t familiar with houses like these.
Cassandra shrugged. “I’m not allowed on the lower level of the house. But at Woodbreak—that’s my father’s country estate—it’s in the kitchen.”
Creeping cautiously along the corridor, they found the kitchen and the pump. Fiona traded the rags for the bucket and filled it. Then, finally, they went in search of the stairs.
A few minutes later, they emerged on the ground floor, stepping out of the servants’ stairway into a sitting room in the back corner with windows facing Duke Street and the back garden.
Decorated in delicate gold and ivory, the space felt warm and welcoming. It also, somehow, seemed to shimmer. Fiona strolled around the perimeter. “It’s such a pretty room.”
“Whoever designed this is brilliant,” Cassandra said, running her fingertips along the back of a brocade settee. “I feel right at home here.”
“How wonderful that women have such a splendid place to gather.” They’d discussed whether they might run into any of the members today. If so, they’d just keep their heads down and hurry away from them. Fiona doubted anyone would recognize her, but they might Cassandra.
“What are you girls doing in here?” The high-pitched demand came from behind them.
Fiona let out a soft squeak as she whirled around. Tossing a glance toward Cassandra, Fiona was impressed to see that she didn’t look as if she’d been caught somewhere she oughtn’t be. But perhaps her heart was thudding as wildly as Fiona’s.
The middle-aged woman, whose costume varied from the other maids in that her apron was white with an embroidered phoenix on the chest, narrowed her eyes at them. She stood in the wide doorway that led toward the front of the house. “I don’t recognize either one of you.”
Fiona froze. This was it. They’d been found out. The woman—the housekeeper?—would alert Lord Lucien, and perhaps even Lord Overton. Would he send Fiona back to Shropshire?
“We’re new,” Cassandra said evenly. If she was even half as terrified as Fiona, she didn’t show it in the slightest.
She looked as if she might believe Cassandra. “Lord Lucien hired you?”
Cassandra nodded. “Yes.”
The woman exhaled and shook her head. “Wouldn’t be the first time he forgot to tell me.” She glanced at the bucket Cassandra held. “You’re supposed to be ensuring the ballroom is tidy.” Her gaze flicked to the right. “Go at once, before the ladies arrive.”
“We will,” Cassandra said earnestly.
After the woman left, Fiona sagged, reaching for a nearby chair to steady herself. “I feared we were discovered.” She stared at Cassandra. “However did you maintain your composure so well?”
“Years of avoiding my father’s disdain when I did something he didn’t care for.”
“It was most impressive. And how did you come up with us being new?”
“My brother likes to help people in need and often assists them with finding employment.”
“How lovely of him. And convenient for us. Do you think that was the housekeeper?”
“I do.” Cassandra moved toward the closed door the housekeeper had glanced toward.
“Because of her fancy apron?”
“Mostly the authority in her tone,” Cassandra said drily.
“Yes, that.” A tremor rippled over Fiona’s shoulders. “What ladies do you think she referred to?”
Cassandra shrugged. “Members? However, surely they wouldn’t come this early in the day.” It was not yet noon. “Who knows what she meant.”
They stepped into the next chamber, closing the door behind them. A harp stood in one corner and a pianoforte in another.
“The music room, I suppose,” Cassandra noted, her gaze sweeping the chamber before narrowing at the open doorway on the opposite side.
“Aha!” Fiona said, moving past Cassandra. “The heart of the establishment—for the assemblies anyway.” She strode into the ballroom and marveled at the high ceilings edged with elaborate cornicework. Two massive chandeliers hung from wide, ornate medallions. A wall divided the large room, but the sliding doors were thrown open between the two spaces.
“It’s the entire ballroom,” Cassandra said excitedly. “Meaning that part over there is the gentlemen’s side. The forbidden realm.” She added the last in a dark, playful tone as she set the bucket on the floor and twirled about. Her skirt brushed the bucket.
“Careful you don’t knock it over, or we really will have to clean.”
Cassandra laughed. “We wouldn’t want that. I haven’t the slightest notion.”
Fiona did. She could scrub the floor and beat the carpets. She could even clean out the hearth, though that was her least favorite job.
“Come, we have to look.” Cassandra was already striding toward the doors to the other side of the ballroom.
Dropping the cleaning rags near the bucket, Fiona hurried to join Cassandra.
The ballroom looked precisely the same on the men’s side—tall window
s that looked out to the garden, a gleaming oak floor, elegant chandeliers, and several mirrors on the wall opposite the windows which made the already large room seem even more grand.
Cassandra stood in the center of the floor with her hands on her hips, her gaze flitting about. “I’d like to know how wealthy my brother is. This was not an inexpensive endeavor. I realize we haven’t seen everything, but so far every room is impeccably designed and beautifully decorated, just as he described. My father would never have given him money for this. He loathes the very idea of the club’s existence.” Cassandra turned toward her. “I am beginning to think it’s quite possible my brother is not the sole owner.”
“It would seem to support your aunt not being invited, though I suppose that could just be owing to the Star Chamber.”
“Perhaps, but my brother is most persuasive. Whatever the cause, membership is evidently not entirely up to him.”
Fiona was especially glad they’d executed their plan since it truly seemed they would not be able to attend the assemblies. “It’s good that we came today. This will likely be our only entrée into the Phoenix Club.”
“Until we are wed and duly invited.” Cassandra’s eyes darkened. “If my brother doesn’t ensure I receive an invitation to join the club, I will sever ties completely. Won’t that delight my father?” she added with a laugh that carried no humor.
Fiona thought of what Cassandra had just said a few minutes earlier about her father, as well as all the other times she’d mentioned his coldness. “Cassandra, if you ever—”
Cassandra lifted her finger to her lips. “Shh. Did you hear that?” she whispered, looking toward a closed pair of doors leading from the ballroom.
Without waiting for Fiona to answer, Cassandra grasped her by the hand and pulled her toward a wide archway cloaked with a thick curtain. She released Fiona and slowly parted the drape. “Stair hall.” Inclining her head for Fiona to follow, she held the curtain until Fiona passed through.
Standing in the stair hall, they could see directly into the entry where a footman stood near the door. He didn’t see them, but if he pivoted…
“Upstairs!” Cassandra whispered urgently, dashing for the stairs. Fiona bolted after her. As they climbed, she muttered, “So close to seeing the bacchanalia portrait.”
