* * *
Oliver chuckled as he read the note one of the liveried footwomen returned to him. Diane certainly had no trouble with pretending intimacy with him. When the terms of his loan came due, however, he doubted she would be as cavalier. Whatever she said or thought about him, he could feel the passion that still simmered between them.
He leaned against the wall to one side of the Persephone Room and watched the parade of curious males. Most entered The Tantalus Club in pairs or trios—much safer on the reputation than risking entering alone and finding no one else there. A few of Diane’s black-and-yellow-liveried footwomen stood by the front entryway to collect coats and hats and gloves. Except for them and Langtree at the front door, the place was empty of chits.
“Haybury!”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded. “Stanpool.”
“This is early yet for you to be prowling about, isn’t it? I thought you were more nocturnal.”
“I’m not prowling. I live upstairs.”
The baron lifted an eyebrow as he shifted to face Oliver straight on. “I’d heard that rumor. You mean to say it’s true?”
“I believe that’s what I just told you.”
Stanpool took a half step backward. “No need to be testy.”
“Then don’t test me.”
“You’re acquainted with Lady Cameron, then, I presume?”
Oliver wondered if Diane had yet realized just how cooperative he truly was being. If he’d wanted her ruined he could have accomplished it two years ago, or any time since then. It would only take a word. That, however, wasn’t the game he was interested in playing.
Since he wasn’t finished with her yet, he needed her to be protected from everyone but himself. Yes, she was playing her own game, but cooperating with her was the surest way for him to win his own. “Lady Cameron and I are old … friends,” he said evenly.
“Old friends, is it?” Stanpool’s gaze shifted to look at something beyond Oliver’s shoulder. “If I cared to plow the widow’s field, then, you wouldn’t object?”
Haybury clenched his right fist, real anger coiling through him. The strength of the emotion surprised him. “You might wish to rephra—”
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Diane murmured, and slipped her arm around his. “Do introduce me to your handsome friend, won’t you?”
Good God. No wonder Stanpool wanted her. She sparkled like a midnight sun, lithe and mesmerizing and shimmering. Briefly Oliver wondered whether his fingers would burn if he touched her skin. “This is Lord Stanpool,” he returned, indicating the baron with his chin. “He finds you attractive.”
She inclined her head, a curling strand of her midnight hair falling forward along her cheek. “Very pleased, my lord. I hope you enjoy yourself this evening.”
“I’m planning on it.”
Oliver stroked his fingers along hers. “Come along and tell me who else you’d like to know.”
“Oh, everyone. I only invited men I thought I could tolerate, you know. Lord Stanpool. I shall see you later.”
“Yes, you shall.”
As soon as they were out of Stanpool’s hearing, Oliver pulled his arm in, drawing her closer. “Do you intend to make me look the cuckold after every introduction this evening?”
Sparkling emerald eyes looked up to meet his gaze. She was excited about this evening, though he would have been more surprised if she weren’t, considering the effort she’d gone through to get here. “We are not a couple,” she said softly. “Therefore I cannot cuckold you.”
“Shall I pull out the note and point at the bit where it says we’re lovers?”
Her lashes lowered a touch. “Are you jealous, darling?”
“Sleep with whomever you please, Diane. But if you attempt to make me look the fool, I won’t be so cooperative.” Even as he spoke the words he realized he was lying—which wasn’t that unusual, except for the fact that he’d evidently been attempting to lie to himself. That was a damned useless waste of effort.
“I don’t need your permission to keep company with anyone. For your information, however, I do intend to flirt quite a bit. I may even veer into being seductive.” She patted him on the arm with her free hand. “You do know the game, I assume. I’ve seen you play it before.”
“Generally when I play, the seduction doesn’t end with words. Be cautious about with whom you toy; as a man I feel the need to inform you that a false seduction can have unpleasant consequences.”
“As can an actual seduction.” She took a half step away from him. “You know, I think you’re put out because I’m playing what is usually a gentleman’s game. I’m a widow and have no virginity to protect. I’m opening a business, and so have little hope of maintaining my grand social connections. I’ve already paid the price, and now I intend to reap the rewards.”
“This is a larger game,” he pointed out quietly, even as another guest caught her eye and she started to move away. “And you do not know all the consequences you could face.”
For a moment she turned around to face him again. “And I give you the same advice. Or was it a warning?”
“Interpret it as you will.”
She knew a handful of the men present, and he quickly noted that those were the fellows with whom she spoke most briefly, and the ones where she made certain he was present. Hm. It wasn’t fear of being chatted at by an old lover, certainly; other than the Earl of Cameron’s reputation for being a poor gambler, Oliver had never heard as much as a duck’s quack about the man or his wife or any of their comings and goings. After an hour or so he’d formulated the opinion that she wanted him there because men were afraid of him. Or at the least they were hesitant to cross him. She used him to control the length, breadth, and depth of the conversation.
“I say, Lady Cameron,” Francis Henning commented, approaching with a glass of wine in one hand and a biscuit in the other, “I heard that you hired half a hundred pretty chits. I only see half a dozen servants. Say that ain’t the total of them, or I’ll be damned disappointed.”
She smiled. “So you’d like to meet my croupiers and dealers and bankers?” she asked in a carrying voice.
A round of male “Ayes” rumbled around her, and the low-pitched chatter that always reminded Oliver of a flock of grouse increased tenfold.
“I thought so.” She nodded. And in impressive near unison all four of the half-concealed doors on either side of the room opened. Young ladies appeared in soft browns and beiges and golds, each of them as pretty as the last. He knew them all by sight if not by name. He knew which of them he would prefer to have at his table for faro or vingt-et-un or commerce or whist or hazard. But that was just him.
His fellows were buzzing like bees around flowers. Within the walls of The Tantalus Club, the conversations and flirtations abounded. For a few minutes the Persephone Room more resembled Almack’s Assembly than a gentlemen’s club.
He sent a sideways glance at Diane, who watched the unfolding scene with an expression of mild amusement. “But will they gamble here,” he murmured, “or be content to turn your club into a bawdy house?”
Diane’s brow lowered. “That I will not permit. These ladies are under my roof and under my protection.” She stepped forward. “Ladies, to your tables, if you please. Gentlemen, tonight The Tantalus Club’s doors are open to all of you. Enjoy yourselves. As for the future, you’ll find applications for membership in the Ariadne Room and in the foyer.” She sent the room at large a slow, sensual smile. “And gentlemen, be persuasive. We intend to be very exclusive.”
Amid the general appreciative laughter she took a step back, out of the way. Oliver followed her. “Outside this club most of these men wouldn’t deign to talk with these ladies.”
“We’re not outside the club. And both I and these ladies know the possible consequences of our actions. I daresay I would prefer employment in a club like this to the only other alternative open to many of them.”
“So you’re their benefa
ctor now?”
“I am not having this argument with you. You’ve had weeks to protest or be offended, and apparently it didn’t occur to you.”
“I don’t get offended, Diane. I’m looking out for my investment.”
“Ah.” She put her gloved palm flat against his chest. It was more than likely his imagination, but he could have sworn her touch felt warm. “I daresay I’ve put more time and thought into this venture than you have, Haybury, so do as I’ve asked and keep your opinion to yourself.”
She was so damned sure of herself. He opened his mouth to remind her once again that he wasn’t her employee, but that argument was beginning to lose what little effectiveness it had had. He supposed he could point out instead that he would have her soon—at any time he chose, in fact. That might set her back on her heels.
Oliver looked down at the black-gloved hand pressed against his chest, her fingers curling into the edges of his waistcoat. He wondered whether she could feel his heart beating. Considering he’d been told more than once that he didn’t have a heart, it was a rather interesting question.
“Tonight,” he said aloud.
“Yes, tonight, and until I ask for your opinion.”
Before she could walk away he covered her hand with his. “You misunderstand. Your soiree will end at what, three o’clock in the morning?”
“That is our aim, yes.”
“Then at four o’clock in the morning I expect to see you in my front room. Per our agreement.”
This time her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. I’m busy at the moment, if you haven’t no—”
“I’ve noticed. Four o’clock.” He lowered his gaze, taking in the beads sparkling across her bosom, her fingers twitching and clenching now over his heart. “Wear that.”
Chapter Ten
William D’Arville, the Duke of Whiting, leaned one shoulder against the wall and eyed her. “And how do you reconcile your position in Society with the ownership of a gaming house?”
Diane watched a tray full of wineglasses go by and sighed in regret. As tempting as it was to imbibe, especially after her conversation with Oliver, she needed her wits about her to both entice and fend off the hundreds of men she’d invited to The Tantalus Club this evening. But it wasn’t them she was thinking about.
It was him, the devil seated at one of the faro tables amid a crowd of onlookers. He certainly knew how to play the game. And how to distract her from the game she was in the midst of playing.
“Lady Cameron?”
She shook herself. Damnation, she was supposed to be convincing wealthy aristocrats that her club was well worth the twenty-pounds-a-year membership fee. “You own horses and hunting dogs, do you not, Your Grace?”
Whiting nodded. “I do.”
“They are your hobby. This is mine.” She smiled. “The skills of the players, the give-and-take—I find it all very … exciting.”
“You’re willing to risk your reputation for the sake of some vicarious excitement?”
With effort Diane wrenched her gaze from her brown-haired nemesis to look at the lean-faced duke. “I consider excitement to be vital.” Almost as vital as the money she meant to make from these men. “If it costs me a dinner or a quadrille or two, well, so be it.”
“Would you be offended if I said I find you quite exciting, Lady Cameron?”
He and a dozen other men this evening. Men didn’t even possess the self-awareness to be embarrassed at how easy they were to lead about. Men—most men, anyway—were so easily deciphered it was almost pitiable. Of course Oliver wanted her as well, but he’d managed to find a way to maneuver her into his bed. Or he would at four o’clock, anyway.
“I rarely find compliments offensive, Your Grace.” When he would have responded, she deepened her smile. “At the same time,” she continued, “I am not a flower swayed by every stray breeze.”
The duke chuckled. “That is refreshingly straightforward of you, my lady. Most women claim to prefer pretty words and secretly wish for pretty things. I prefer your honesty.”
And she preferred money with no strings attached. “It reduces the chance for any misunderstanding.”
“I shall endeavor to acquire something appropriate, then.”
Profitable as this conversation might turn out to be, she wasn’t paying as much attention as she should have been. Instead, she kept glancing toward what had become the main faro table and the broad-shouldered male there who commanded everyone’s attention.
She had intentionally left clocks out of the rooms of The Tantalus Club, because she didn’t want her wagering guests to know how much time they spent beneath her roof. But tonight she could not help wondering every other moment what time it might be. Four o’clock seemed to be approaching at a full gallop.
“Do you have the time, Your Grace?” she asked, hating that she’d been unable to resist checking.
He pulled out an engraved pocket watch. “It’s nearly half one.”
She put a hand on his sleeve. “Then you should try one of the tables. Or the desserts being served in the Hera Room.”
Whiting put a hand over his heart. “Am I being dismissed? I’m heartbroken.”
Diane laughed. “Merely delayed, Your Grace. Do enjoy yourself.”
As soon as she’d shed herself of the rather charming duke, Mr. Evans took his place. And then Lord Ackland. Evidently owning a club made her eminently desirable. At the same time, she doubted any of them had marriage on his mind, however wealthy she was rumored to be.
“It’s fortunate you had those additional applications printed,” Jenny said, approaching from the foyer. “Several guests in the Demeter Room have called for pen and ink to complete them tonight.”
“Good.” Diane sent another glance at Oliver’s back. “Can you supervise the cleaning and restocking after we close? I want to be ready for tomorrow evening.”
“Of course I can. But where will you be?”
Oh, she didn’t even want to say it aloud. “I have an … obligation to see to. I’ll be available again after closing tomorrow.”
Genevieve stepped closer. “Is something wrong? You know I am quite … resourceful if you should require assistance.” She followed Diane’s involuntary glance toward the faro table. “Is it Haybury? What did he do?”
“He loaned me money, Jenny, and I agreed to his terms. By four o’clock tomorrow morning, I’ll be finished with him.”
Jenny took her elbow. “I saw you after he left Vienna,” she whispered fiercely. “I knew it was a mistake to get tangled up with him again. Do not—”
“I know how to conduct my business, Jenny,” Diane interrupted. “And I’m not the same woman I was two years ago. I think I can manage a few hours in his company. Stay out of this.”
With a stiff nod, Jenny released her again. “If I don’t see you at one minute after four tomorrow morning, I will make this my business.”
“Agreed.”
While in the future wagering would continue until the players retired from the table, tonight Diane wanted all of the gentlemen to leave with their thirsts unquenched. At ten minutes before three she had the various room supervisors go about to begin closing the tables. One by one the ladies vanished back through the mystery doors. As the last one exited, Diane stepped up to the raised dais placed by the main door.
“Gentlemen, thank you for sampling The Tantalus Club’s hospitality. Our doors will be open to all again tomorrow for the same limited hours. Our full hours will begin on Thursday. On Thursday next, you will need to be a member to join us. Good evening.”
With the temptation of the ladies removed, wagering ceased and in small, noisy groups the men of Mayfair left the premises. For over a year Diane had anticipated this moment, when she could call opening night a success and breathe a sigh of relief that she’d actually managed to make it all happen.
Instead her hands trembled and her insides quaked, simply because she would be spending the next handful of hours in the company of a man w
ith whom she’d once shared a fortnight. And for some unfathomable reason, that shook her more than had the idea of beginning this entire venture.
As soon as the last of her guests left, she had Juliet close and lock the front door. Diane hurried upstairs to the large sitting room above the kitchen, the one she’d put in at the last minute to give her employees a place to relax away from the club. Nearly all of her female employees seemed to be inside, the sounds of chattering and laughter almost deafening.
“Ladies,” she called, stepping onto a chair, “well done!” At her gesture, the footwomen brought around glasses of champagne for everyone. “After tomorrow, we will begin our regular schedule, but tonight I wish to say that I am very pleased with all of you. Tomorrow we’ll begin at noon, and Jenny and Margaret will discuss any changes we need to make. For now, enjoy yourselves!”
As soon as Diane could break away from the rounds of thanks and congratulations, she escaped to her private rooms and paced while she stared at the clock and watched the hands race each other around the circle.
At two minutes of four she blew out her bedside candle, pulled her gloves back up her forearms, and headed down through the dark, empty club. She could do this. She’d faced creditors and poverty and solitude and had bested them all. This was twenty-four hours. She could survive anything for one day. Even Oliver Warren.
She stopped on the landing just outside his door and took a deep breath. If he’d been any sort of gentleman he would have called on her, but she already knew precisely what kind of man he was. And “gentle” didn’t enter into the equation. Blowing out her breath once more, Diane knocked on the door.
Nothing happened.
Well, that was unexpected. She supposed he might have forgotten he’d played this particular hand and he was presently out sharing some other chit’s bed. In that case, though, one of his servants should have reached the door by now. Silently Diane began counting. Twenty-five seemed a good, round number. If no one appeared by then, she would consider her duty fulfilled.
A Beginner's Guide to Rakes Page 12
