A Beginner's Guide to Rakes

by Suzanne Enoch

  “You might consider that Lord Haybury is attempting to panic you so that you’ll confide in him more deeply.”

  Diane frowned. “I don’t think he would do that.” Before they could begin arguing again that she was doing something as absurd as falling for Oliver all over again, she stood. “Whatever happens, for Oliver’s sake he’d best keep in mind that this is my home. Given the state in which Frederick left the title, I doubt Anthony can afford to go about wagering, either. At any rate, I won’t help him gamble away what’s left of the Benchley properties. He should be thankful I turned him away.”

  “But what of these other men?” Jenny gestured toward the Persephone Room. “You encourage them to wager.”

  “And in case you’ve forgotten, I kept fourteen other applicants from joining the club. I’ve instructed my girls to inform me immediately if anyone drinks too much or gambles too deeply. I don’t want to ruin families. Not even the one that ruined me.” Retrieving her hand, she stood again. “And that is that.”

  Jenny rose and followed her to the door. “I will be very angry if he attempts to make trouble. Gentlemen’s club or not, you are doing good here. And not just for the two of us.”

  Diane laughed. “Don’t let Lady Dashton or her ‘Ladies of Moderation’ hear you say that. To them I’m Eve, Jezebel, and Delilah, all in one.”

  “Did you happen to notice Camille today?” Jenny pursued as they made their way to the kitchen. “She laughed. Twice.”

  “I doubt she’ll be laughing if her father or the man she refused to marry ever come calling at the club.”

  “Perhaps she believes you will help to see that no harm comes to her. You already saved her life by hiring her to work here, after all.”

  “Oh, please. Stop being so dramatic.”

  “I’m not being dramatic. A well-bred daughter of an earl who couldn’t run to any of her family or friends for sanctuary or employment. What do you think would have become of her if The Tantalus Club hadn’t existed?”

  “Then it’s a happy coincidence,” Diane stated. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t planned on being a nanny to wayward aristocratic females, however much it seemed to be leading that way. Yes, there was an unexpected … satisfaction in helping the girls find employment. But it was not her goal. It couldn’t be. This was about seeing to her own independence. She hadn’t factored anyone else into the equation. Taking a slow breath, she nodded at Mary and Fiona as they passed down the hallway. Perhaps it was time she found a different equation.

  “And Haybury?”

  Diane faced her friend, reluctant to discuss the most troubling part of any—all—of her equations. “He’s doing his job well. Eventually he’ll cease challenging me. And once I’m able to repay the loan, we’ll have no need of him at all.”

  Jenny continued to look skeptical, but Diane left her with a smile. She could only juggle so many things before they all came crashing down around her ears.

  The most pressing problem continued to be Oliver Warren. She’d steeled herself against him, because she’d known he would be razor-sharp and witty and argumentative and oh, so attractive. But that kiss—just thinking about it still curled her toes and made her heart pound. That, she didn’t know how to defend against.

  And she didn’t quite know why she felt so certain that more trouble was coming—or that whether she was willing to ask for his assistance or not, Oliver would be willing to offer it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “And good evening to you, Lord William,” Diane said with a smile. “I’m pleased Lord Cleves here has brought you along. Enjoy your visit.”

  The Marquis of Plint’s son grinned back at her. “I say, this is rather marvelous. More pretty chits here than at Almack’s, that’s for damned certain.”

  Cleves gripped his younger companion’s shoulder. “Behave yourself here, Billy, or two large gents lurking behind those doors there’ll set you outside on your arse.”

  Apparently Haybury had been correct when he’d said the club’s members would begin to enforce the rules themselves. Sending Cleves a grateful smile, she left the gentlemen and went to find Pansy Bridger to see that the baron received a complementary berry tart, his favorite dessert.

  “I’ll see to it, my lady,” the petite brunette said, making a note on her tablet. “And Lord Haybury sat down in the Demeter Room ten minutes ago. You said you wanted to know.”

  “Thank you, Pansy.”

  Well, she needed to eat, and if she continued avoiding Oliver the number of flirtations she had to contend with every evening would increase, as would the bouquets the next morning and the letters and poems expressing undying admiration and even marriage. Squaring her shoulders, she strolled into the main dining room.

  Oliver sat toward one side of the room close to the quartet of windows overlooking the lantern-lit garden, at one of the tables reserved for the club’s founding members. Though he sat alone, the table was set for two and a glass of white wine, her favorite, waited at the place opposite him.

  He stood up as she approached. “Good evening, Lady Cameron,” he greeted her, moving around to hold out her chair.

  “You’re being quite the gentleman tonight,” she observed, sitting.

  “It’s something new I’m trying,” he returned, resuming his own seat. “You haven’t worn that gown before. I know you don’t need my approval, but it’s lovely on you.”

  “It’s a black dress. How do you know it’s new?”

  “I noticed.”

  He paid even closer attention than she’d realized. “And how did you know I would join you for dinner?” she pressed, lifting her glass of wine for a sip. “You didn’t seem so certain earlier.”

  “You didn’t say no.”

  Patricia came by to take their dinner order, and Diane requested the roast pork while Oliver chose the venison. The room was filling up nicely; Sophia had swiftly developed a true talent for seating club members at the appropriate tables and for encouraging the most easily persuaded ones to move on to the gaming rooms when the dining room began to back up.

  “Will you keep the club open all year?” Oliver asked, his gaze studying Diane’s face. He did that a great deal, she’d noticed, as if he was still attempting to figure her out. She liked that he didn’t think he’d done so already.

  “Do your other clubs close at the end of the Season?”

  “Some of them do. The others reduce their staff and their hours.”

  Reduce their staff. That had been her original intention when the club had still been in its planning stages. It made sense financially. Fewer guests meant less money coming in, and fewer employees meant less money going out. Now, however, it felt infinitely more complicated. “What do the employees who aren’t kept on do?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never had that conversation with any of them.”

  “Oh, what a shame. You were helpful for a moment, and then … well, it ended.”

  He grinned. “Being helpful is another new direction I’m trying. Shall I inquire at the Society? I’m meeting Manderlin there for breakfast before Parliament.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He took a swallow of whiskey. “And you’ll owe me … a walk through the park of your choice on Tuesday afternoon.”

  “No!”

  “Then I’m afraid I won’t be chatting with any footmen or waiters about their autumn and winter activities.”

  Diane narrowed her eyes, annoyed and a bit … flattered all at the same time—despite the fact that she knew him to be heartless and self-serving. “St. James’s Park.”

  “Very well.”

  “And your idea of helpfulness needs some improvement.”

  “As does your impression of a ruthless club owner governed solely by logic and the desire for independence.” He grimaced, no doubt sensing that she was about to stomp on his foot. “Ah. A bit too close to the mark, was I? Should I have said that I admire the way you’re managing an enterprise no chit has ever attempted? And that the affec
tion and loyalty your employees clearly feel toward you, and you for them, is even more admirable?”

  “You adm—” She stopped herself before she could say something completely foolish. “You’re bamming me, aren’t you? That’s just mean.”

  Oliver sat forward. “I am not bamming you.” Reaching across the small table, he tapped her forefinger with his. “I admit that sarcasm is perhaps my favorite form of expression,” he murmured, quietly enough that not even the neighboring tables could possibly have overheard him, “but for once I am being utterly sincere. You are a remarkable woman, and I do admire you.”

  She drew a slow breath, attempting to ignore that warm, lifting feeling she’d first noticed when he’d kissed her at the Drury Lane theater. Or had it been even before that, when they’d flown above London in a balloon? She couldn’t quite recall when she’d begun … liking him more than previously. “Then I sincerely thank you.”

  “You’re sincerely welcome.” He pressed down on her finger briefly, then released her again. “But you still have to go walking in the park with me.”

  And she still didn’t mind the idea as much as she should have. “That’s why I haven’t complimented you about anything.”

  For a brief moment he actually looked perturbed, but the expression was gone from his lean face so swiftly that she couldn’t be certain. “I’ll have to put a bit more effort into it, then.”

  Had she been too harsh? Yes, he was far ahead of her in cruelty, but he’d just handed her two genuinely splendid compliments. She had no intention of apologizing, but perhaps she could soften the blow a little. “Oliver, I do appr—”

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, scowling.

  “Well. Never mind, then.”

  “Not you, chit.” He glanced away from her, then back again. “Anthony Benchley just walked in. With his new friends.”

  And that was likely the nicest thing Oliver had ever done for her, giving her a moment to gather herself together before the next storm broke. She’d put Frederick behind her the moment he’d died, and with the exception of one large rut in her road she’d been moving forward ever since. Every time Anthony appeared she felt the drag back toward the abyss her life had been—when she’d been nothing more than Lady Cameron, helpless, hopeless, and destitute. In all honesty, that wasn’t precisely Anthony’s fault, but he had to know by now that she didn’t want him anywhere near her.

  “Diane?”

  She looked up. And then she remembered that they were in her club, in her home, and he was only someone’s guest. “Anthony,” she said, standing so she wouldn’t have to look up at him. “I see you can’t resist The Tantalus Club.” She wanted to add that unfortunately he wasn’t welcome there but refrained from doing so. If she couldn’t withstand such a pitiable nuisance as Lord Cameron, she had no business being a club owner.

  “No, it doesn’t seem that I can, does it?” He smiled, showing too many teeth, and a sliver of uneasiness slid down her spine.

  At the same time, she heard Oliver’s chair push back. Oh, no. “I know Lord Trainor, of course,” she resumed, speaking to the only club member in the group, “but will you introduce me to your friends?”

  “With pleasure. His Grace, the Duke of Greaves, and the Earl of Larden. Gentlemen, my … former sister-in-law, Lady Cameron.”

  As cordial as all that sounded, she didn’t have to be terribly perceptive to feel the male aggression in the air. And a great deal of that emanated from directly behind her. If Oliver meant to play the part of her ally, he needed to calm down. “Have you met Lord Haybury?” she asked, taking a half step sideways so she could make a grab for him if he lunged at anyone. For heaven’s sake, he was generally much more cerebral than physical with his violence. “Oliver, the Duke of Gr—”

  “Yes, we’re acquainted,” Oliver interrupted. He’d moved up around beside her, she realized, close enough to touch. “Go take a table and enjoy your dinner, gentlemen. The cooks here at The Tantalus Club are exceptional.”

  Anthony scowled, sending his gaze around the room. “You think to put me off again then, do you, Haybury? You and your cow? I did some checking, you know. You were in Vienna when my brother expired. And now you’re living under his roof, with his wife. Do you expect me to believe it’s all just a coincidence? Diane, you stole—”

  “If the next two words dribbling out of your mouth aren’t ‘my heart,’” Oliver cut in, his voice flat, “you and I are going to have a disagreement.”

  Lord Cameron snapped his mouth shut. “I won’t be bullied any longer. I’ve been polite until now. And now I have my own allies, Diane. I want what’s mine. Y—”

  The Duke of Greaves clapped Anthony on the shoulder, though his dark gray eyes remained fixed on Oliver. “We’re here to try your tables, actually, my lady,” he interrupted. “There’s no need for insults or raised voices. Passions may be high, but we are all gentlemen—and ladies—here.”

  “Indeed,” Lord Larden took up. “Everyone wants a look at your unusual club. You can hardly blame us for our curiosity … and interest.”

  “Yes, this place is quite a feat, considering that when I last saw her she could barely put together a dinner menu.” Anthony chuckled.

  Oh, there were so many things she wanted to say in answer to that, beginning with the difficulty of putting together a menu when the household could barely afford fish and boiled potatoes. She curled her fingers into a hard fist.

  Warm fingers brushed against hers. “He wants a fight,” Oliver whispered. “Don’t play his game.”

  “You, either,” she returned in the same tone, but flexed her hand again. She faced Anthony squarely. “I hope you’re not jealous that I’ve been able to improve my life,” she said in a more normal tone, batting her eyelashes.

  “I don’t care that you have; I only insist on knowing how you did so,” her former brother-in-law pressed. “And I want you to prove that you didn’t accomplish this by making some sordid pact with Haybury that involved doing in Frederick—or the former Marquis of Haybury, for that matter.”

  She was not going to fall into that hole. “I don’t discuss my finances, Anthony. But you might tell me: how did you convince Lord Trainor to bring you here? I wasn’t aware the Benchleys had anyone left in London who would do them a favor.”

  Beside her Oliver snorted faintly. The red of Anthony’s face deepened, though in his defense the new Lord Cameron had never heard her speak up for herself before. This Diane very little resembled the one he’d known four years ago before Frederick dragged her to Vienna.

  Greaves pulled Anthony back a step. “The tables,” he said. “I’d like to do some wagering. Not argue with a chit in her own domain.”

  Settling for a graceless nod, Anthony backed away and turned around. Once they’d disappeared into the Persephone Room, Diane faced Oliver again. “How much of a threat to my club are Greaves and Larden?”

  Of course she didn’t care that Greaves and Anthony had called her names; her life was tied into the club so deeply that only the club mattered. Briefly Oliver wondered if there could ever be room for him in her heart. “Larden’s likely to attempt to wager so deeply he’ll break the bank and force you to give the club over to him. Greaves is more devious. He’ll look for a crack and dig into it until it breaks wide open.” He put a hand on the back of her chair, half-encircling her. “You made Cameron go scrambling for reinforcements. Have I mentioned that you’re fairly formidable?”

  Forcing her shoulders to relax, Diane managed a grin. “Nice of you to notice.”

  “That’s not all I’ve noticed about you, but we’ll save that conversation for another time. Shall we finish dinner?”

  As they sat down once more to eat, she realized that something exceedingly odd had just happened. Sometime over the past few minutes she and Oliver Warren had become allies. Even odder, lightning hadn’t struck either one of them dead.

  * * *

  A pack of wolves had entered The Tantalus Club. Well, two wolves and a h
yena. Oliver kept watch on the door as he and Diane finished their dinner. He needed to give more credit to Cameron. Evidently the man had seen that he was being viewed as nothing more than a nuisance and as a result he’d brought in allies who absolutely needed to be taken seriously. The question became whether Larden and especially Greaves were playing the same game as their new friend. Regardless, this all meant trouble.

  “Tell me,” Diane said unexpectedly, “is Greaves here because of you?”

  “It’s possible. He likely knows I live upstairs and that I spend most evenings here.”

  “And if he cheated you, what is he after?”

  “I don’t know.” Oliver frowned at his nearly empty glass. “If Cameron approached him for a particular purpose, Greaves agreed to it knowing of the earl’s connection to you, and yours to me.” He glanced up at her to find her intense green gaze on his face. “I have a suspicion he’s been promised a part ownership of The Tantalus Club.”

  “Well, he can’t have it,” she retorted. “And neither can Anthony or that Larden person. It’s mine.”

  “You don’t need to convince me of that, my dear.”

  With a deep breath she jabbed her knife into her roast pork. “When did this trouble between you happen?”

  “Three years ago.”

  “About the time you left London for the Continent. Not a coincidence, I presume.”

  Fascinating as he found her, from time to time he wished she were a little less acute. “Not a coincidence.”

  “And Larden?”

  “I’ve never liked him. He simply enjoys winning the property and lives of others.”

  “I won’t tolerate that here.” Diane pushed back from the table and stood. “I believe I’ll visit the Persephone Room.”

  Rising as well, Oliver reached across the table to grip her hand. He liked touching her, and she didn’t seem to be objecting. “Let me see what they’re up to.”

  “This is my club. Whatever they’re doing here affects me. Not you.” She made a face. “I thought the trouble you’d bring me would be from some woman attempting to gain employment here and then slipping into your rooms at night. I should have realized that you’ve made enemies of both sexes.”