Page 45 of Dukes All Night Long

“W hat shall I wear tonight, Lucy? I’ve never entered a gambling den before.

” This raised a huge question. Why was she going to Club Knight two nights after the masquerade?

The butterflies swarming inside her stomach answered her.

She wanted to see the owner, see if he was her mystery man.

The name associated with the club was James Night, which she suspected was a false name.

She sincerely hoped that when she arrived, she would recognize him.

His face may have been hidden when she met him; however, she believed she would recognize the timbre of his voice and his laughter, the way he carried himself, and his swoon-worthy grin.

The only thing she questioned was whether the owner would be present tonight.

“Your emerald-green gown brings out the color of your eyes and is just what you need. No extra frills to detract from your lovely figure.”

“Lucy!” she exclaimed with a smile. “You are correct on the gown, as always. I wish to wear my hair down. I was informed the establishment is relaxed regarding ton standards.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

During the carriage ride, she nearly tapped the roof of the coach several times, signaling the driver to stop, turn around, and take her home.

It was one thing to attend the other night, where she could hide behind a mask, making her wonder if she was making a mistake showing her face.

The flutters taking up residence inside her body, flutters anxious to see him again, told her otherwise.

Once the carriage came to a stop, her driver helped her out.

“Duggan, please stay close by. I don’t know how long I’ll be. ”

He bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

She touched the green silk pouch attached to her wrist, which contained several large coins.

Gambling was not her forte. Truthfully, she had never partaken in card playing.

Most people would be shocked to learn she did not know a single card game, but she felt obligated to bring coin just in case.

She planned to find a comfortable seat and observe the goings-on.

Her main objective was to find Mr. James Night.

As with the other night, a rather large man stood at the door. “Card.”

She handed over the card. After inspecting it, he returned it. She tucked it inside her pouch for safekeeping.

He opened the door. “Welcome.”

“Thank you.” She paused in the doorway. “I was hoping to speak with Mr. Night.”

The man chuckled. “Aren’t we all.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and stepped into the entry hall, where a footman relieved her of her cloak.

“All the gaming tables are set up in the ballroom, as well as refreshments. All the other rooms on this floor are closed except for the billiards room. As usual, the rooms upstairs are available on a first come, first served basis. Please stick to the rules.”

Rules? Oh, dear, she had scanned the contract, noting things like the confidentiality clause, but she hadn’t read it word for word.

She would follow what everyone else did.

How hard could that be? Entering the ballroom, which was considerably brighter than it had been the other night, she sighed with relief.

One obstacle down and one to go. She considered it a significant achievement that she had come here tonight at all.

Almost every chair at every table was occupied, and a dealer in evening wear controlled the game at each table.

At least, that’s what she believed. It didn’t take a genius to understand a gambling hall.

She took a glass of wine from a passing waiter and turned this way and that, hoping to find an empty chair to pass the time, not one at a card table.

When she was nearly ready to give up, she noticed several settees scattered on the other side of the room, where people were mingling.

It took a moment for her feet to obey her brain.

The other night, she’d had a mask to hide behind.

Tonight, she had no such thing. Not only would people recognize her, but she would recognize them as well, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Inhaling for courage, she forced her feet to move around the circumference of the tables until she stood before an empty settee.

Just as she was about to sit, a man’s voice said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. ”

She turned to face a handsome gentleman dressed formally, standing next to a pretty young woman. “We are Lord and Lady Graham.”

Charlotte curtsied, careful not to spill a drop of wine. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Mrs. Charlotte Beauchamp.”

“Ahh, our dearly departed Beauchamp’s widow,” said Lord Graham.

“Excuse me?” Feeling lightheaded, she whispered, “Do you mind if I sit?”

Lord Graham waved his arm. “Please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Her hand went to her chest as her heart pounded. She hadn’t been prepared for his words and their impact on her. Lady Graham sat beside her. “Apologies for my husband.”

“No harm done.” She forced herself to look at Lord Graham. “How did you know my husband?”

“We attended Eton together. I remember him well. My condolences on his death. Such a tragedy. Will this war never end? Too many good men are dying. I have a younger brother who is serving in the Army. My mother has the vapors daily and takes to her rooms.”

“I’m sorry. I pray he returns safely,” Charlotte said, knowing full well what would happen if he didn’t.

Before the conversation continued, a footman approached, bowed, and handed her a note without saying a word.

Standing, Charlotte said, “Please excuse me. It was lovely to meet you, Lord and Lady Graham, and I hope to have the pleasure of your company again.” She gave her glass to the footman and found a quiet spot in a corner, where she unfolded the missive with trembling hands and a hopeful heart.

Dear Mrs. Beauchamp,

Please meet me on the veranda. I am the gentleman wearing a mask.

She turned it over, looking for a signature, but there wasn’t one.

Not that she needed one. She knew who it was from and walked toward the open double doors, which let in the fresh evening air.

One person alone stood on the veranda, his back to her and as far from the doors as possible.

Her heart accelerated. She would recognize him anywhere.

Why wasn’t she afraid? Because he meant her no harm—she knew it.

As she approached, he turned to face her, and all the air escaped her lungs.

Even with a mask covering the left side of his face, he was truly handsome.

He was formally dressed and stood with an air of confidence.

“Hello again,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He bowed without taking her hand. “Mrs. Beauchamp.”

“Please call me Charlotte. The other night, you said this was your club. Is it true? Do you own this place?”

He smiled. The mask ended just beside his mouth and full, masculine lips—lips she remembered well. “I do. And since I’m being honest, please call me by my given name, Nathaniel.”

“Nathaniel,” she murmured as her whole body trembled with the knowledge that he trusted her enough to share his real name.

“There is much to discuss.” He held out his arm. “Would you please accompany me to my study?”

His study ? She had anticipated him taking her upstairs as he had the other night, not to his study.

This sounded serious. What could he possibly say to her that was so important it required his private business domain?

Wrapping her arm through his, she replied, “Lead the way.” And was surprised how normal her voice sounded.

They entered the hallway that led to the billiard room. After unlocking the door at the end of the hallway, he waved for her to go in ahead of him.

It resembled any study she had ever been in. A mahogany desk dominated the room, with bookshelves behind it and two chairs for guests. A sideboard stood off to one side, its candelabras casting a soft glow. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Brandy would be lovely.”

“Please sit here,” he said, pouring her a glass and handing it to her.

After she sat down, he took the chair beside her, the uncovered portion of his face toward her.

His handsome profile was free from the distraction of the mask.

What had happened to him that made him wear a mask?

As curious as she was, she wouldn’t ask such a personal question of a near stranger.

Even after what they had shared, they remained strangers.

He took a generous sip of his brandy and faced her. “Before I begin, let me say I didn’t know who you were until after we were,” he cleared his throat, “intimate. And quite frankly, I don’t know whether to apologize for my behavior or not.”

“No apology.” Heat torched her face at his mention of their intimacy.

“When your application to my club arrived, I was quite frankly... surprised.”

“Why? We have never met. To my understanding, the club welcomes female members.”

“Females are most definitely welcome here.” He drank from his glass. “We haven’t officially met, but your husband, Hugh, was one of my closest friends since our Eton days, and he served under my command. I’m Captain Nathaniel Nightingale.”

She downed the amber liquid and relished the burn as it went down her throat.

It snapped her out of the shock caused by his words.

It took her several moments to find her voice, which was deeper than usual.

“So we finally meet. Hugh spoke of you often before he purchased his commission in the Navy.”

He reached for her hand and held it gently. “Forgive me for not visiting, paying my respects, or replying to the letter you sent me.”

“From what I understand,” Charlotte said, glancing down at his large hand, several shades darker than her hand, curled around one of hers, bringing her warmth and comfort, “you were badly injured.” So many questions swirled around inside her mind.

What was the point of this meeting? What did he really have to say to her?

And what on earth was the Duke of Tremont doing owning such a club?

Nathaniel removed his hand, leaned back in his upholstered chair and sighed.

“Someone told the French we were coming that night. They were waiting for us. When Hugh was caught in the first round of cannon fire, I tried to save him.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat before continuing.

“Nobody could save him. All I can say is it was quick. He didn’t suffer. ”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. More would only replace them. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because when we set sail from England to Portugal, he asked me to look after you.”

“Why would he ask that?”

He stood and walked rather stiffly to the sideboard, returning with the brandy decanter and refilling their glasses.

This time, he leaned against the corner of his desk.

“No doubt because he worried about you since his family had cut ties with him. Perhaps he had a feeling he wouldn’t return to you. ”

“Well, I thank you for telling me all this, but I’m financially solvent.

My brother has seen to it. I also don’t need a keeper.

” Charlotte stood, placed her full glass on a tray on the sideboard, then turned and faced Nathaniel.

“It has been a pleasure finally meeting you. But I shall not visit this establishment again.” As the words left her lips, the pain in her heart took her breath away.

She didn’t understand the depths of her feelings for a man she hardly knew.

But she refused to be an obligation to him for something he’d promised Hugh.

She wanted Nathaniel to be with her of his own free will if he was with her at all.

His hand gripped her arm. “Please don’t go. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the other night.” He stood and pulled her into his arms, cradling her head to his chest. “I believe Hugh put us together for a reason.”

Her entire body relaxed into his embrace, and she never wanted him to let go. “Perhaps he did. He often mentioned you in his letters. He admired you and considered you his best friend.”

“Thank you for telling me.”