Did Gerard say he wanted to take me home?
No, he answered, mildly bewildered by her comment.
Good, because I’m not going anywhere.
I might. The club is nearly empty and it’s obvious that I am not welcome here tonight. Merely accepted. Argus has done his work too well.
Faith glanced around and pasted a dazzling smile on her face, as if he’d just said something to amuse her. I know exactly what to do.
But despite him pressing her, she would not tell him. Instead, she moved on to her next partner, and Amidei faced a sweet and very young woman, who was easily identified from her mother glaring daggers at him from the side of the floor. “You are Lady Bradshaw’s daughter, I take it?”
The girl blushed and glanced down, though Amidei wasn’t aware of saying anything unusual. “Yes, indeed, and this is my first London ball.”
“Then you should mark every moment. You will never have a first London ball again.”
This time she responded sweetly to his smile, and then they passed on. At least he’d made one conquest tonight. He had not missed the way the girl’s gaze had roamed over his attire, and then his face, and her eyes had widened when he’d smiled.
Stop ogling and pay attention.
He grinned at Faith’s admonition, quite startling the older lady he was now partnered with. Yes, ma’am. I can look, though. I doubt Joanna will baulk at that. She somehow feels she is not fit for society because she was born poor.
Fiddle! I was living in Vinegar Yard when I met Gerard. You don’t get poorer than that.
Amidei decided that he loved Faith Ellesmere. Not as much as he loved Joanna, but he would always keep a soft spot for the woman who had faced so much trouble with a smile on her face.
Now make your way out and leave the rest to us. You can’t force your way in, you know that. Let’s make it irresistible. Get them to come to you.
I love your confidence, Faith, but I fear it might be too late for that.
By the time he left the house, Amidei was sure of it. He was cut a few times, when people turned away from him, but never given the cut direct. At least he could be thankful for that. However, it was coming, he was sure of it. If he continued to push his way into society, they would close ranks on him. And the club would be finished.
By the time he got home, he’d run the gamut of emotions from fury to despair, and now felt nothing but weary acceptance. He would make his plans accordingly. His great dream, a place for immortals to gather, would be over, yet again, and he would have to leave. By the simple expedient of spreading gossip and unfounded rumours, Argus had defeated him.
He would not allow Joanna to face such cruel behaviour. She was uncertain enough about entering society. To see skirts swept out of her way as she passed would kill what little social confidence she had left. And unless he could draw the highest in the land to his club, the Pantheon Club would fail. He did not wish to risk owning an establishment for immortals only.
But he had not lost everything. He had the woman he loved, the one he could happily spend the rest of his life with, however long that turned out to be. But he ached to give her more than a poisoned chalice.
Entering the great, black-painted doors of the Pantheon Club did not raise Amidei’s spirits as it usually did. The inside was spotless, the paintings on the walls of distinguished patrons clean and straight, the whole building exuding the air of exclusivity and luxury he had striven for when he’d first walked in here.
Despite the building being in a prime situation, it had been in decline for some time before Amidei had bought it. The first purpose-built club in London had cost the owners too much for them to sustain the resulting establishment. They’d almost snatched Amidei’s hand off when he’d offered them the price they asked for. But he considered they’d deserved something for having such a bold vision, just not the acumen to turn it into a burgeoning business.
He had. Now he was preparing to walk away. On his own, he would have fought, but how could he subject Joanna to such unpleasantness as must occur when society turned its back on him? Argus had won, and in such an underhand, insidious way that it threw Amidei into such mingled despair and fury he knew he wasn’t fit for company right now.
He couldn’t go to Joanna in this mood. Instead of taking the stairs to the upper floor, he floated in her mind, assuring himself that she was asleep and well. She stirred, her thoughts warming to him. Hastily, he withdrew, leaving her to her slumbers.
With a sense of foreboding he had never felt before in this building, Amidei turned right and headed for the main rooms.
Apart from a few stalwarts, the main assembly rooms were deserted. Anger and sorrow built in his heart as he powered his way through, pausing to smile and assure anyone who asked that the club would be open for the whole of the next season, and the one after that. He behaved as if nothing was wrong.
But everything was. The club should be packed with men gambling and drinking. The women’s rooms likewise had promised to become centres of gossip and social activity. But nothing was happening. The lovely spaces were dead.
Amidei might have deterred a mob from storming the building, but Argus had won another way. Spreading scandal could kill the place as surely as an explosion.
In a corner of one of the smaller public saloons set aside for the men, he found Apollo. He sat by the fire, feet up on a padded footstool, as comfortable as in his own home. He was alone.
Amidei nodded to him and would have left him to his own devices, but Wickhampton held up his hand to stay him. “Will you tell me what is happening?”
Setting his jaw, Amidei strode across and in a few, succinct words, brought his friend up to date. “It appears that rumour and innuendo are winning the battle for the Titans. It’s too slippery; I can’t get hold of it and wring the truth free. Lies are spreading, and people are believing them. I’m a foreigner, an upstart, not one of them, and the club is far too scandalous. They were right all along, the gossips are saying, although this time last year they were extolling the club as if it was the home of the second coming.”
Unbidden, Wickhampton poured a glass of brandy for himself and for Amidei. Amidei downed his in one, something he would not normally consider with good French brandy. The spirit burned its way down to his stomach, the smoothness only a disguise for its essentially acidic presence.
Wickhampton turned his glass in his hands. “They’re gossiping about me too, so I sent for my sisters. They were quite a hit when they came to London, or so Damaris told me. They will help me establish respectability, although I’m in danger of finding myself leg-shackled before the end of the season, if I’m not careful. I should have found an amenable wife years ago, I daresay, but I went on my merry way, with nary a thought to respectability. Or London, for that matter.”
Amidei helped himself to another libation of the dark amber liquid. “Watch the legends, that’s all I can say. They’re tricky. I found a love without their help, but others have not. And the legends have returned to mark me. The original Mercury killed the giant Argus and gave the eyes to Juno to decorate her peacocks’ tails. Now his descendant seems to want revenge.”
“Humph.” Wickhampton sipped his brandy thoughtfully. “We have not seen him, and we’re not positive of his mortal identity.”
“I am,” Amidei said. “Joanna has seen him, and I’m sure he is her erstwhile suitor, a man called Gough. Patrick Gough. He’s posing as a wealthy individual, and he bought the Argus journal, changing its name to the one he preferred.”
“Now why would he do that, if he knew it would draw our attention to him?”
Amidei sighed, knowing he should have worked through these arguments. Normally he would have done so, but in this case his heart was involved, and he had run with his instincts instead of his rationality. “Revenge. He changed the name of the journal because he knew we would realize who was behind the attacks.”
“Revenge against what or whom?”
Amidei shook his
head. “Juno died.” Wickhampton had not been there then. “A year ago, more or less, and it was a result of her siding with Kronos. Argus has always been Juno’s servant. He wanted us to know, that’s for sure, and people who wave their identity in the faces of those they want to harm, want us to know why. However, he did not do it until he was ready to be noticed. All his plans were in place.”
“And what has he done?”
“Secured the journal, then courted Joanna, but only after she became a maid here.” He closed his eyes. “I should have done this before. I should have ensured I was ahead of him, not chasing him.” He let loose a long series of curses, both foul and inventive.
“Feel better?” Wickhampton was regarding him with interest.
“Somewhat.” At least he could think clearly now. Here, in the place where he’d poured so much money and love, he found himself a space, a place of calm. How long it would last he had no idea, but he would use it while he had it.
“Can you not sue him for seditious libel?”
Amidei snorted. “That would merely make me a laughing stock.”
“You could prove that his accusations are untrue.”
“It would provide me with some satisfaction, but it would not have any practical results.” He waved his hand, diamonds glittering in the golden light. “I will consider it, though, as a distraction.”
“And you think he is doing this alone?”
Amidei shrugged. “Yes. He might have a few servants, but he has made this fight personal. If we do not scotch it, we may find more Titans joining in.” He pressed his hand over his eyes. “I do believe he’s beaten me. I will not have Joanna under threat, so I will remove her from the battleground. Then you may do as you wish. The club is finished. Nobody will come back. Use it how you will.”
“Just you wait and see,” Wickhampton said, flourishing his glass at him. “Don’t give up yet. Your lady is safe here.”
“When the club is the battleground?”
“It is fortified. Your chambers are on the second floor, surrounded by immortals who love you. They will ensure her safety at all times. Or did you not realise how much you are loved?”
“Loved?” His thoughts went to Joanna.
“Your staff, and the people you helped. You say you’re doing this to form an effective barrier to the Titans taking over, but it’s so much more.” Wickhampton stretched his legs out before him, warming them before the slowly dying fire. “Have you thought about them?”
Closing his eyes, Amidei nodded. “But a dying business is not a place anyone wants to be, least of all employees. I’ll find places for them all.”
“But it won’t be here.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. How could evil gossip have such a result? Just talk? Argus had cleverly played on the worst aspects of society, and brought them to a head. “Argus produced a monster with a hundred heads that I can’t fight. It isn’t situated anywhere, and it doesn’t respond to a sword.” He glanced up. “If I find and destroy the perpetrator, that will stop further damage, but it’s already done. My only satisfaction would be revenge.”
Wickhampton lifted his glass to Amidei. “And stopping any further evil happening to anyone else.”
Amidei nodded. “That’s true. Then I will make it my business to seek him out before we leave. As long as Joanna is safe.”
Wickhampton nodded. “Give it a few days. Another scandal might take the place of this one. And we will make our plans.”
Chapter Fifteen
Amidei threw down the journal on the breakfast table in disgust. “Such filth. It’s as if he has a personal vendetta against me.” He had not felt that before, because Argus had aimed his efforts at the club, not at Amidei. He had tried to kill him in the house collapse, but at that time Amidei believed it was because he was the head of the club, and without him, the rest would fall apart. That kind of behaviour was something he’d come to expect from the Titans, who rarely allowed their concentration to slip.
“What is it?” Sitting opposite him, calmly eating scrambled eggs and bacon, Joanna smiled. With her glossy hair tumbling in rich chestnut over her shoulders and her skin glowing with health and loving, nobody would connect her with the pale, bespectacled maid who stuffed all her hair under huge linen caps.
“He can’t have you, so he’s decided to destroy your reputation.”
She glanced at the paper, but did not pick it up. “I don’t care. My father is free of his influence and I’m here with you.”
Her smile warmed him profoundly. “Thank you. But I will not have him traducing you.”
“He merely pokes at you.”
He growled. “I thought when we destroyed the printing press, or rather, when he did, that we would have a small respite. That it would at the very least take him some time to become established somewhere else.”
She shrugged. “I could have told you that would not happen. London has small presses aplenty, all thirsty for work. He can rent an hour on the machine, or however long it takes to set and print the journal. He does not have to have one of his own. All he needed to do was walk into the Cheshire Cheese and ask if anyone had any space.” Lifting her dish of tea, she took a sip. “What does he say?”
He kept her gaze. “That you are my mistress, and that I have debauched a respectable woman.” Keeping her attention, he opened his mind to her. She accepted him, taking him within her mind and her heart. Over the last three days they had made love, talked, and locked the world out while he took Wickhampton’s advice and gave the scandal time to blow over.
It had not. If anything, it had grown worse. He had not bothered to attend any more of the events of the season. He was probably an outcast by now.
He could not bring himself to care. All he wanted was to defeat Argus, and then take Joanna and her father to another place. For a few years he would step back and let someone else carry the fight forward.
Shock jolted her, sending tea spilling over the edge of her dish, until she relaxed, and her mind eased. “What does it matter? I have you, and that is all I care for.”
“You’re lying.” But he smiled, basking in her and her love for him. The last time a woman had seen through the masks he wore and the talents he wielded was a long time ago, and ended in tragedy. This would not. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name.
Getting to his feet, he threw his napkin at his place and rounded the table, going down on one knee and taking her hand. He met her soft gaze. “Joanna Spencer, would you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife?”
She caught her breath. “Is this for respectability?”
He laughed. “Partly. I have already given myself to you. But also because we both deserve this. Our own happy ending. I love you very much.”
“I have no dowry, sir.” Her mouth was prim, but her eyes danced.
“Then I will have to ensure that you have one, will I not?” He shrugged. “Why should we care for that?”
She regarded him gravely, the smile in her eyes gone. “Indeed. That lack of a dowry prevented any man looking at me for anything more than what I am now. But if I had a thousand a year, I would probably not have met you, or been here now. I cannot regret that.”
He kissed her hand, and then rose to press a kiss to her mouth. “We’ll make plans to visit my house in France, with your father. Does that meet with your approval?”
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him away enough to gaze into his face. “Eventually. Amidei, this is not you. You want to find Gough, do you not? To make him pay for destroying you and your dependents. Although I am perfectly sure we will find contentment in France, you won’t be completely happy.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she touched his lips with one finger. “No, I will not hear protests to the contrary. My love, the knowledge that Patrick Gough is out there causing trouble will eat at you. I know you now, and your sense of responsibility is powerful. Let’s finish him before we leave.”
Gently, he remov
ed her finger and moved closer. “And that is why I love you so much. But I will not see you in danger.” After one lingering, passionate kiss, he got to his feet.
She raised a brow. “I had thought we would be moving to the bedroom.”
Her pout made him smile, but then very little about her did not. “Later. But if I am to obtain a special licence, I must make haste.”
*
On the day of her wedding, a mere two days after he’d asked her, Joanna stood bewildered in the middle of a sea of silks, satins, velvets, and lace. Pale yellow brocade vied for her attention with rich blue cut velvet, and delicate apple green silk. Petticoats, embroidered, spangled, all the colours she could imagine and more besides, bearing outlandish names like soupir d’amour and les ailes d’ange met her gaze. They covered her bed, the daybed and the tallboy, their drapery outlandishly exotic.
“I will never wear all these.”
“You could try,” Betty said. She picked up an ivory satin and draped it over her arm. “I don’t think ivory is your colour, but of course you might disagree.”
“I don’t.”
At least that got rid of one of the gowns. Over breakfast Amidei had casually informed her that he’d ordered a few gowns delivered. “Because I don’t want you married in that bottle green drab jacket and brown petticoat.”
“I don’t have that any more,” she reminded him. It had been destroyed along with the house. She actually had very few clothes, but that had not mattered a great deal. Now she had more clothes than she’d ever owned in her life. He’d been thorough too, ordering linen, under petticoats, lace ruffles, silk stockings, shoes, fans, handkerchiefs—even night rails, though Joanna doubted she’d get much use out of those.
Her lover was passionate and inventive and, wanton that she was, she loved every minute of his attentions. However, sometimes she’d caught him watching her, or staring into space, and she knew she would have to persuade him to see the issue through. They had to find Argus and she was beginning to work out how. He would take quite some persuading, though.
Her Quicksilver Lover: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 6 Page 22
