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Eight

Bloomsbury was an area of the city that had become known for its intellectualism and progressivism.

It was home to the British Museum, writers, several colleges, and, perhaps most notably, Montague Club.

At that fateful dinner several weeks ago when she’d met Simon, Mr. Thorne had told them that the club was the first in the city to allow both men and women members.

He had spoken at length about how the club had begun as a home to second and third sons and all manner of lower nobility who found White’s and Brooks’s too absorbed in the minutiae of tradition.

Professionals and scholars of all bent also sought out the club.

He’d made it sound like a haven of forward-thinking individuals, which is why Eliza had been so desperate to see the inside.

And yet again she was pushing the bounds of propriety to be here.

She pressed her forehead against the side window of the cab to peer out at the club as Jenny handed their fare up to the driver.

Montague Club was an expansive building that spanned the length of half a city block and was several floors tall.

Its white marble facade seemed illuminated beneath the full moon overhead and the gas streetlamps flickering in the mild evening air.

A line of carriages disappeared down the street and around the corner as people arrived for the exhibition fight.

A wide red carpet had been laid out at the main entrance to welcome spectators.

The club only hosted these fights a couple of times a year and they always drew a crowd.

“It looks like a palace, doesn’t it?” Eliza asked. Doormen in double-breasted livery stood on either side of the massive front doors. Torches lighted the way from the carriages.

“Yes.” Jenny hurried from the carriage and Eliza roused herself to follow her sister. The cab took off and they were left there on the pavement. “A palace complete with guards. How will we get in?” Jenny asked.

The club was opened to nonmembers tonight, but only to those who had been able to acquire a ticket.

Cora had refused to purchase tickets for them, proclaiming that a brawl was no place for unmarried women.

She was right, and looming over them was the fact that Eliza didn’t have Mainwaring’s permission.

Though there was a betrothal contract in place, he could call the whole thing off and it would be Eliza’s reputation that suffered for it.

It was why they had dressed in black veils.

“We’ll wait for an opportunity,” she said, watching the people make their way inside in small groups of two and four.

It had been about a week since she’d last spoken with Simon.

A few days after their conversation in the hall, Devonworth had deemed them not to be at risk anymore.

He still had his own men escort them in public, but Simon had been able to return to his work at Montague without a proper goodbye or giving her an answer.

They had managed to sneak out tonight after Jenny had pleaded a headache and Eliza had insisted on staying home to watch over her sister.

Fanny had gone out to the previously planned dinner without them.

Simon was participating in the brawl tonight, and there was no way she would miss him.

“Let’s look for a large group—There!” Jenny discreetly pointed toward a group of young men walking down the sidewalk. They were well-dressed but slightly unkempt, likely students, and they were clearly intent on the club. “We’ll fall in behind them.”

Eliza shook her head. “That won’t work. It looks as if they’re checking tickets.

” One of the doormen appeared as stoic as a palace guard as he inspected a piece of card stock that an older man and woman presented to him.

Only after examining it thoroughly did he step aside to welcome them.

“Besides, I’d wager that Lord Leigh is inside greeting guests.

We can’t go in the front and chance him catching us. ”

They would also have to avoid the Duke of Rothschild along with his wife, Leigh’s wife, and Cora and Devonworth.

Wives of titled men didn’t suffer under the same constraints as young debutantes hoping to marry well.

It wasn’t fair, but it was true, and there might be others they would need to avoid.

But as long as they stayed toward the back of the crowd with their veils, she didn’t think they would have to worry.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll try a service entrance.”

Together they hurried across the road, dodging the cab that came from the opposite direction and had slowed to gawk at the spectacle of the arrivals. They had each worn a nondescript black cloak and hat with veil, but that didn’t stop pedestrians they passed from looking at them in curiosity.

Around back, they spotted a servants’ entrance. A wrought iron railing was set into the sidewalk surrounding a narrow set of stairs that led to the lower level. Hopefully, the door would be unlocked.

“Eliza, I don’t know about this.” Jenny’s voice wobbled a bit when they approached the stairwell.

The door was cracked open; clanging and clattering came from inside, the sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen, she’d guess. “You can’t back out now.” She grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled her toward the steps. “We won’t get in trouble. We’ll stay hidden.”

Jenny nodded but worry clouded her eyes.

They carefully made their way down the steps and inside the building.

The kitchen was on the left and it bustled with activity.

Shouts in several different languages accompanied the clanging of metal pots, so no one noticed them as they slipped by.

The corridor made a turn, putting them in the path of a maid who hurried toward them with a tray at her side.

She passed them without a second glance on her way to the kitchen.

Another turn put them at the foot of a set of stairs that led up one floor to another service corridor.

This one was much busier with servants scurrying around, and the walls were thin enough they could hear the club’s guests through it. Eliza tried a door and it opened.

The elegant hallway was packed with people who chatted and laughed as they made their way deeper into the club.

Men made up the majority of the crowd, but there were a fair few women dressed in finery.

They wore satins and silks with sparkling embellishments and detailed embroidery.

The men wore dark suits with silk ties, some with waistcoats, and some made of coarse wool.

She imagined they were a mix of professionals, nobility, and students.

Eliza hadn’t dared wear anything too extravagant because she had thought it would be better to blend in and she hadn’t wanted to risk soiling it.

The precious few gowns they had been able to afford were to be saved for Society events.

She pulled her cloak around her to hide the plainness of her dress.

“Come,” she said to Jenny. “It looks as if everyone is going this way.”

Jenny nodded and they worked their way into the flow of the crowd.

Last time Eliza had been in Montague Club, she’d been upstairs.

This part of the club had dark paneled walls, gleaming parquet floors, and gaslight sconces lining the wide hall.

When they passed a footman positioned in an alcove with a tray of champagne, Jenny took two glasses for them, giggling like a schoolgirl as she handed Eliza hers.

“Merde,” Jenny muttered and stopped short.

“What?” Eliza looked to her sister and then followed Jenny’s gaze across the crowd.

Two doors had been opened ahead, and from the glimpse she had through the shoulders and heads in front of her, it looked like a ballroom.

A giant crystal chandelier glittered with the light of hundreds of candles.

That wouldn’t have jarred her sister. Eliza looked harder, her gaze darting over the crowd flooding into the ballroom, until it caught on a blond head.

A shot of trepidation quivered in her stomach.

The man turned his head to speak to his companion and she got a clear view of his profile.

It was unmistakably Devonworth. He had the profile of a classical statue.

“It’s fine,” Eiza said, though she wasn’t entirely certain it was. “We knew he was attending. We must simply avoid him.”

Jenny shook her head as if she didn’t think their chances of that were good.

“Is Cora with him?” Eliza asked.

“I think…” Jenny moved from the left to the right to see around the man in front of her. “Yes, I see red hair. She must be here.”

Damn. “Okay, we’ll watch which direction they go and turn the other way.” Nothing was going to stop her from getting to Simon tonight.

Jenny nodded and grabbed her arm. When it was their turn to enter the already crowded ballroom, they fled to the opposite side of the large room.

It was lit up with two massive chandeliers and gold sconces along the wall.

The ceilings were vast and inlaid with intricate carvings and designs.

The floors were shining parquet wood and the walls white and gold.

This end of the room had bars of various lengths affixed to the wall at different heights.

She had heard people whispering that the ballroom had become the club’s gymnasium, as if this were scandalous, but it might very well be true.

Montague Club was noted for its exercise apparatuses along with its bare-knuckle brawling club.

A large square ring took up the center of the room.

Double rows of black silken ropes around fifteen feet long enclosed it.

The whole thing was on a raised dais so that the spectators could have a better view of what was to come.

Excitement chased the trepidation away. She lifted up her veil and Jenny followed suit.

It was too crowded for their brother-in-law and Cora to notice them anyway.