And so Lady Wilhelmina March had become an integral part of Kathryn’s friendships, one she treasured as they strolled arm in arm through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour when so many others were about.
“I’ve not encountered you at any of the balls this Season,” Kathryn said.
“I can take them or leave them,” Wilhelmina replied, her soft voice almost a sigh. Two years older than Kathryn, she considered herself permanently on the shelf.
“You don’t miss the social interaction they provide?”
“Not particularly. Besides, I’ve acquired a new activity of late that I’m rather enjoying.”
“Being pampered at the Elysium Club?” She knew her friend frequented the establishment. They sometimes went together.
“A different club, one you have an interest in as well, if your presence there last night was any indication.”
Kathryn came to an abrupt halt and faced Wilhelmina. “You were at the Fair and Spare? I didn’t see you.”
The lady arched a brow. “I don’t think you saw anyone other than Mr. Griffith Stanwick. He seemed to be your entire focus. And you his.”
As the burgeoning heat of embarrassment warmed her cheeks, she glanced around, grateful no one was near to overhear. She’d been battling her guilt ever since she’d arrived home after her trip to the club. She hadn’t intended to kiss Griff, certainly hadn’t planned to do anything except confront him, but a bit of wickedness had taken hold when she’d realized he was struggling not to touch her. It made her feel powerful, powerful in a way she didn’t experience when she was with Kingsland. It had also made her feel wanted and desired. The kiss he’d given her in the duke’s garden had haunted her, and she’d wanted to know if what had once been devastating to her senses would once again be so.
It had been so much more. Hungry and needy and ravenous. She hadn’t wanted it to end but had also known that it couldn’t continue. Yet, still, she craved another.
“He is the brother of my dear friend, Althea. I merely wanted to see how he was getting on. What were you doing there?”
A bit of devilry edged Wilhelmina’s smile. “Being naughty. I am all of seven and twenty, a spinster destined to never marry. While you may think less of me for admitting it, I see no harm at my age in taking a lover, and I’d heard rumors about a newly opened establishment that provided the perfect opportunity for the unwanted to be wanted.”
“You’re not unwanted.” Her voice was firm, filled with conviction. She hated for Wilhelmina, for any woman, to feel as though she’d been discarded. Unfortunately, most lords in need of a wife favored the debutants, not those with some seasoning to them.
“I’m not saddened by my predicament. Quite the opposite, in fact. I can go where I want, do as I want, without needing to gain a husband’s permission. My father set up a trust for me. I receive two thousand per annum, so I need not concern myself with monetary woes. I do not need a man, but sometimes I think it would be nice to have a gentleman look at me the way Mr. Griffith Stanwick did you last night.”
“Angrily? He was rather put out with me for showing up in his dominion.”
Wilhelmina shook her head. “You did not see him when he first caught sight of you. He looked as though the only person who mattered in the world had just walked in.”
“You have the wrong of it there.” Because it was easier not to face her friend directly, not to gaze into her eyes, when speaking of something so very personal, she hooked her arm around Wilhelmina’s and urged her to continue with their turn about the park.
“It was only for a second or two. Then he shuttered his expression. But I know what I saw.”
“You have always had a romantic bent.” It was easier to believe Wilhelmina had shaded his expression with her own biases rather than to consider that he held deep affection for her. Or to acknowledge that she might have developed a fondness for him last Season, when her life had seemed so simple.
“I’m surprised he admitted you. A lady has to be five and twenty to gain a membership.”
Kathryn wouldn’t be twenty-five until August. “I wonder why he has that rule.” To prevent any encounters between them?
“I suspect it’s because he doesn’t want to see any lady ruined who still has the prospect of marriage available to her. And, make no mistake, it is a place for ruination. It’s the reason the membership is so closely guarded and only the most trusted to keep secrets are allowed access. People only learn of it when it’s whispered to them.”
Not true. It hadn’t been whispered to her. She’d overheard. She wondered if she should mention he had a flaw in his system. If she returned. When she returned.
She glanced around at the ladies walking about or riding in carriages. Some with beaux, most without. It would change as the Season progressed, as matches were made. “What other rules has he put into place?”
“Only spinsters and bachelors are allowed entry. No firstborn sons who will inherit titles. The firstborn sons of commoners are welcomed. It’s actually a very interesting mix. People of different backgrounds and social status. I’ve spent time in the company of some very intriguing gentlemen. They’ve had some success, or they wouldn’t be able to afford the membership. It doesn’t come cheaply.”
She wondered if Griff would ask her to pay for hers. He could certainly ask, but she wasn’t going to hand over any funds. As far as she was concerned, he owed her for that deuced wager. “Has anyone in particular taken your fancy?”
“No, I’m still on the hunt.” She tapped her shoulder against Kathryn’s. “But I find I rather enjoy the hunt.”
“Are you going tonight?”
“I am indeed. I would offer to pick you up in my carriage, if you’ve a mind to return, but I fear it might become inconvenient if one of us wishes to stay later than the other. But I could meet you there, show you around. Last night, I don’t think you saw much of what the place offers in the form of entertainments.”
“I shouldn’t go.” She knew she shouldn’t.
“Are you seeing Kingsland this evening?”
“No, he is in Yorkshire until next week.” And her parents weren’t a hindrance. They were in Paris for another sennight.
“I wouldn’t get in the habit of putting my life on hold for him, for any man, truth be told.”
She hadn’t. She was involved with her charitable endeavors and attended social functions, even if he wasn’t about to escort her. Then, there was the Elysium Club. “I might see you there.”
“We should have a signal. If I’m holding a glass of white wine, then I am available to escort you about. A glass of red indicates that my attention is otherwise occupied, and I might not be quite as welcoming of an interruption.”
“Why, Wilhelmina! A secret code? I do believe there is a side to you with which I am not familiar. I also believe you are implying that you intend to indulge in a bit of wickedness.”
“Unlike you, Kathryn, should a gentleman catch my fancy and I catch his, if we explore our interest in each other, I have nothing to lose.”
She had everything to lose. A duke, respectability, an inheritance.
She should have taken up her needlework in the parlor. She should have gone to the Elysium for a bit of gambling or a waltz or dinner. She should have sat in her bedchamber and penned a letter to Althea to see how she was enjoying her time in Scotland with her new husband.
She should have done anything other than slip into the gown that matched the shade of her hair, the gown he’d seen her in when she went to the theater with Kingsland—but she thought it might serve as a reminder that the duke was her future, even as she traveled in the coach to see a man who should remain in her past.
Perhaps he wouldn’t give her any attention this evening, and that would be all for the good, even as she knew she wouldn’t tolerate his ignoring her. Not completely. If Wilhelmina was holding a glass of red wine, which Kathryn dearly hoped she was, then she would insist that he give her the grand tour.
She
did want to see the place, every nook and cranny. Since the night he’d shown her the vacant building, she’d imagined countless times how it might have looked if he ever acquired it. Wilhelmina had the right of it. She’d noticed little save him once she’d heard his voice, once the giant barring her way had moved aside and Griff had stood before her. So she would go tonight, see what she wanted to see, and be done with it all. Be done with him.
Before rumors reached the duke.
No closed doors. No whispered words. No kisses. No touches. No moans.
Griff had known she’d come. It was the reason he’d been standing at the curve of the stairs, halfway up them, so he had a good view of the door. Every other night since he’d first opened, he’d gloried in the abundance of people streaming in. The curious, the extras, the ones who caught no one’s attention when moving about Society, or those who stood at the edge of it peering in. But here the ladies were not outshone by seventeen- and eighteen-year-old girls who had recently curtsied before the Queen. Nor were the men outranked by dukes, marquesses, and earls.
They were equals. In search of a bit of fun. They were filling his coffers with the drinks they purchased, the food upon which they dined, the coins they passed over to his dealers. And the membership they paid for the privilege of doing all that.
But at the moment, unlike previous nights, he wasn’t striving to estimate this evening’s tally. He was concentrating on her, dressed in copper, crowned in copper, as she gracefully skirted around people, acknowledging with a slight nod those she knew. Second and third sons. Fourth and fifth. A couple of widows. A widower. Lonely people who sought companionship. Not always sex. He’d learned that quickly enough. The rooms he’d designated on the top floor for intimate encounters were seldom used. To his surprise, even when the opportunity presented itself, his members weren’t quite as free as those he’d seen at the cock and hen club he’d visited. Reputations were still guarded. But he saw a lot more smiles here, heard a good deal more laughter, than he had experienced at fancy balls held by the elite. Perhaps eventually his club would become something else other than what he’d originally envisioned, but that was all for dissecting later.
For now, he descended the stairs and met her before she could disappear into one of the rooms beyond. “Lady Kathryn.”
“Mr. Stanwick.”
Last night she’d made a point of emphasizing the form of address that should have made him less than what he’d once been, and he’d detested her use of it, but it created a chasm between him and the man who had sired him, and for that he was grateful. “We require members register in the front room and have their membership verified.”
“It’s an inefficient system. I haven’t the patience for it. You should give your members a card or a medallion that they can show to your lumbering giant and move on.”
“So they can hand it to a friend who hasn’t paid for the privilege to enter?”
She shrugged. “Hire someone to sketch their likeness onto the card.”
He stared at her in astonishment, at the easy solution she’d suggested. “That’s not a half-bad idea.” It would get people in quicker. They would have more time to drink, to spend. “Not half-bad at all. What else would you change?”
“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t seen everything yet.”
He fought not to smile. He wasn’t going to give her a smile, give her reason to believe he was glad she’d returned. “Would you like to?”
“It seems only fair.”
“You’re still miffed at me.”
“Not as much.” It appeared she was striving not to smile as well, and it did strange things to his gut, causing it to tighten and expand at the same time.
“Allow me the honor, then, of escorting you through.”
He didn’t offer his arm, didn’t give any indication at all that she meant more to him than any other member. Instead, after signaling with a wave of his arm the direction in which they should go—down the hallway just past the stairs—he placed his hands behind his back and clutched them in order to stop himself from touching her lightly on her upper arm or shoulder or back.
But he’d imagined this, showing her what he’d accomplished since he’d slept in missions until his investments earned enough that he could purchase this building and move into a room on the top floor. Collecting on the wagers had allowed him to furnish it. He’d often worked from dawn until midnight, assisting the carpenters, or moving furniture about, or interviewing and hiring staff, or having invitations printed. He wondered if she would notice that the shade of each room was a reflection of her in some manner. The coppery tint of her hair, the green of her eyes, the blue. The burnished brown of the freckles that were no longer there.
He led her into the parlor with its pale blue walls. A few dark blue sofas rested at the edge of the room, but here people mostly stood, mingled, visited, made new acquaintances, rekindled old. They purchased their libations at a mahogany counter and nibbled on tiny cucumber sandwiches.
A woman talking with a tall, dark-haired man looked toward them and lifted her glass of red wine in a slight salute. With a soft smile, Kathryn gave a little nod.
“You know Lady Wilhelmina March?” he asked.
“She is a friend, yes.”
“Is she the one who told you of this place?”
She turned to him. “No, actually. I overheard two ladies discussing it while I was playing cards at the Elysium Club. I’m not convinced your members are as discreet as you want them to be.”
Yet here she was, risking Kingsland discovering that she’d visited. “I don’t mind them discussing the club. As a matter of fact, I very much rely on them talking about it for word to get around. It’s the private business of the individual members and whom they see here that they are not to divulge. Which you’d know if you’d gone through the proper process and sat for an interview.”
He wished he didn’t enjoy seeing her look so victorious.
“So, it’s official. I do have a membership.”
“Until he goes down on a knee for you, until I see the announcement of your betrothal in the Times. Although I can’t see that after tonight, once your curiosity is satisfied, that you’ll have much use for the place. Those who are here are announcing they are in search of companionship . . . or something more intimate.”
He didn’t much like how quickly her triumph dissipated into something that seemed rather sad. “Is that what you’re announcing when you’re standing at the top of the stairs, or halfway down them”—so she’d seen him, and he wondered if she understood he’d been waiting for her, would have stood there all night, until they closed at two, waiting for her—“or wandering through?”
He should answer in the affirmative and let the knowledge affect her as it would, marking him as either cruel or kind or indifferent, depending on the direction in which her hopes led her. Instead, he told her the truth. “The members are not for me.”
Because he couldn’t have whom he wanted, he wouldn’t take what he needed from someone who wasn’t her.
She seemed relieved, perhaps guilty, maybe even a little embarrassed. Her cheeks turned that lovely pinkish hue before she glanced around. “What else do you offer?”
“Come. I’ll show you.”
She should not have been fairly giddy by his response, should not have been glad that all her imaginings—of him taking women to the room he’d taken her last night and closing the door—had turned to dust.
Perhaps he’d wanted her to focus on the lovely walls covered in blue silk or the elegant crystal chandelier or the gorgeous shiny mahogany counter that people sidled up to in order to purchase a drink. But what she had mostly noticed was the way the women devoured him with their eyes, the hope and the want she saw reflected in some.
He had changed after his family had lost everything. He possessed a strength now that he hadn’t before, a confidence that clung to him like the finest of cloaks, tailor-made and perfectly stitched. He effectively communicated, I am
giving you this. Make good use of it.
He fascinated her in ways different than he had before. When he looked at her, it was with a determined concentration that made her grow warm and long for that room with the barred door.
Unlike the night before when he’d led the way up the stairs, tonight he followed, and she could not have been more aware of him if he was brushing up against her spine. She wished she’d chosen a gown that revealed more of her back. Why was it that she gave so much thought to what she wore for him and so little regarding what she wore for Kingsland?
Even though she’d told him that she’d dressed for Kingsland the night of the theater, she hadn’t actually gone to any extra effort for him. Unlike last night and tonight when she’d wanted to look perfect.
When they reached the landing, he took the lead, managing to escort her, guide her, without touching her, his hands still held securely behind his back. He wasn’t nearly as relaxed with her as he’d been that long-ago night when he’d brought her here, before Kingsland made his announcement, before she knew about the wager, before his family was ruined because of his father’s actions.
The first room was a cardroom, but the tables were small, only two chairs at each. Fewer than a dozen couples were playing. As cards were dealt, ladies blushed and gentlemen grinned. “Not very original.”
“Look more closely.” He’d lowered his head, and his breath fanned along her ear, stirring her curls, causing a delicious shiver to race along her spine. “What do you see? What do you not see?”
The game she recognized. It was the one she played at the Elysium. “There are no chips. No token, no coins. No wagers being made.”
“Wagers are being made, but not for anything that can be stuffed into pockets.”
Scoundrel of My Heart EPB Page 12
