Page 12 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)
~April 22~
I t took her father just two days to arrange for them to see the building on Ryder Street. If the solicitor who met them there was surprised to see a young lady along to tour the building, he hid it well.
On Gwendolyn’s part, she fell in love with it immediately. It had beautiful, large iron work lamps on either side of the door, which stood on the corner of Ryder and Duke Street. Inside, the dark wood floors were a little masculine, but she imagined she could make them more feminine with some fine carpets. From the foyer, a large room opened up to the left where one could place tables and chairs. As the room faced the front of the building, it was very bright and welcoming. Large windows looked out onto the street, perfect for ladies to sit and take tea while keeping an eye out to see who might be passing by. A door to the right led to another large room, which extended toward the back of the house. Up the stairs were smaller rooms, any of which would make an excellent card room.
“There is a separate entrance to this room,” the solicitor told them of the large room to the right of the door. “It is number forty-three Duke Street.”
“But that’s perfect!” Gwendolyn said.
“It is?” her father asked, turning to her.
“Of course! That allows for us to have a dining room, which can be accessed independently of the club.”
“Oh, I see,” he nodded, but Gwendolyn was certain he had no idea of all the extensive plans and ideas going through her mind. It was all perfectly clear to her, however.
She could see it all. The dining room, open to ladies and gentlemen alike. The tea and card rooms open to ladies only. No, she corrected herself. The dining room must be open to members of the ladies club only and their guests. It must be exclusive, Gwendolyn decided, otherwise anyone would be able come and that would not be interesting at all. Everyone—especially members of the ton —loved exclusivity.
“We’ll take it,” she announced to the solicitor.
“My sweet, I am certain we should look at other properties,” her father began.
“No, Papa, I’m sorry, but I don’t think there could possibly be another property as perfect as this.” She turned back to the solicitor. “You may begin writing up the papers.”
The man looked to her father, who just shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. “Can you give us a moment?”
The solicitor nodded and moved away, presumably to inspect another part of the building.
“Gwendolyn, I think you’ve made your point,” her father began.
“What point is that, Papa?”
“That you want to marry someone who is not in love with my wealth. I understand that and respect it, truly. But I think you are beginning to take this silliness a little too far.”
“It is not silliness, Papa. I am absolutely and completely serious. I will leave London and not return if you don’t allow me to open this club.”
“Sweetie…” he started.
“No, Papa. It’s not just the men, although they certainly have a good deal to do with it, but it’s also that I’m bored,” she explained.
“Bored? How can you be bored? You’ve got so many parties to go to, shopping, museums, and”—he waved a hand in the air—“whatever other amusements you young ladies get up to.”
“But that’s the point. There aren’t all that many other amusements. And aside from that, I am not invited to a great many parties and other excursions. I am sitting at home reading novels! I’ve even contemplated making you a shirt.”
Even he widened his eyes at that one. “Do you even know how to make a shirt?”
“Of course I do. I also know how to embroider, but I have no talent for colors. The point is, I need something else to do, and starting a club will be the perfect occupation for me. It is different and interesting. It’s a business, and you know yourself I am very good at business.” She gave him a meaningful look.
There had been more than one time that she’d helped him with his own business—somehow she just had a knack for figuring out shipping, importing cotton, and exporting cloth. She hadn’t had a lot of time to work on such endeavors—just the six months between the time her governess had quit and the time she’d been admitted to The Smithton Seminary for Young Ladies—but it had been long enough for both of them to realize she had a true head for business.
“Yes, but it is not what I want for you, my sweet. I sent you to that school to learn how to be a lady of society, and here we are, in society.”
“It’s true, but what I didn’t learn was how to be a lady of leisure. I’m just not good at it. Please, Papa? At worst, I’ll lose some money. At best, I’ll earn some and start a popular club for ladies.”
“Which brings me to my other point—you don’t know the first thing about running a club!”
“It’s true, I don’t. But I did learn how to run a household at school. And I learned how to throw a party. This will be like doing that, only every day. And I will hire someone to help, someone who knows more than I. I will simply assist.”
“And who will this knowledgeable person be?” her father asked.
It was a good question. A very good question. “I don’t know yet, but I promise I’ll find someone soon. Actually, I have an idea in mind as to where to find the right man for the job.”
Her father crossed his arms and waited for more of an explanation. He’d done this all of Gwendolyn’s life, so she knew what he wanted. She wondered if he did this at his office too. When he raised his thick, graying eyebrows at her she laughed out loud.
“Jamieson’s son has worked at Clarendon Hotel for the past five years. I’m sure he knows someone who I can hire.”
“Really? My Jamieson? My butler?” Her father’s arms dropped to his side.
“Yes. He was telling me before we moved to London how excited he was to be able to see his son again.”
Her father frowned. “I didn’t even know he had a son.”
Gwendolyn just shrugged. “Maybe you should speak with the staff more often.”
Her father just shook his head. “Well, this is good. I trust Jamieson. Let’s hope his son knows of someone for you.”
“Then you’ll rent this building for me?”
Her father sighed, as if the weight of the world was settling on his shoulders. “Yes, I will rent the building for you. But I want this man, this majordomo found and hired as soon as may be, do you understand me? And you may not miss one party because of this. Not one!” He pointed a finger at her accusingly.
“Yes, Papa. Not one. I promise.” Gwendolyn held up a hand.
Her father nodded and strode off to find the solicitor.
“All right, then. Why don’t we head to your office to get started on those papers,” he told the man once they found him loitering near the front windows. “I’m certain my daughter has a great deal of shopping to do.”
“Oh, I do!” Gwendolyn gave her father a peck on the check and headed out to buy furniture, carpets, and drapes. They all needed to be bright, white perhaps or yellow. No, lilac Gwendolyn decided. It was light and feminine and her favorite color. And for the walls, well, she would have to write to Mrs. Smithton of the Smithton Seminary and arrange to purchase the artwork of the young ladies who were currently students there. She remembered all the paintings she and her fellow students had produced in their watercolors class and had always wondered what had become of them. Some had been quite good, and Gwendolyn saw no reason why such work shouldn’t grace the walls of her new club—the Ryder Street Club for Ladies.
~*~
Never in his life had Joshua struggled for conversation. He’d always considered himself an expert, a master at the art. He was funny and clever; he could be charming or interesting. But somehow with Miss Hanslow, he was at a loss.
He attempted to remark upon the day.
She barely responded.
He commented on her pretty dress.
She sniffed.
He made mention of how many there were in the park that day.
She said repressively, “I should expect nothing less.”
He’d even resorted to asking about her mother and got a pert little, “She is very well, thank you.”
When they’d first met, she’d informed him in no uncertain terms that she did not read and had no interest in any sort of academic pursuits. He couldn’t ask about that. She played the harp. How did one ask about that? She was a refined young lady who seemed to have no interests whatsoever aside from being a model young lady—with, apparently, no conversation.
They drove down Rotten Row in silence and, on Joshua’s part, growing frustration.
“Do you have any interests, Miss Hanslow?” he finally asked.
She turned and looked him squarely in the eye. “No.”
“None?” He couldn’t believe anyone could not be interested in anything. That just didn’t make sense.
“None, my lord. I have been raised to marry. My interests will be that of my husband’s,” she told him.
He would have laughed at the ridiculous statement if she had not said it so seriously. “But surely, you have—”
“My lord, what are your interests?” she asked. It was the first question she’d asked of him in the quarter of an hour they’d been together.
He opened his mouth and then shut it again. Could he tell her of his club? Truly, that was his most passionate interest. He had devoted so much of his life to Powell’s for the past five years, he’d hardly done anything else. But for such a refined young lady, speaking of one’s business didn’t seem like the thing to do. “I am interested in people,” he said.
“People?”
“Yes, people. I consider myself a student of society. People fascinate me. I love speaking with them, learning what they are interested in, finding out why they do things and how. I am blessed to have met a great number of people throughout my life—from every part of society—and I have found them all fascinating. Everyone from the woman who sells posies on the pathway, to the footmen, to refined young ladies such as yourself. I am deeply interested in people.”
“How very unusual. Personally, I do not like people in general.” She turned back to face forward.
“What is it that you do not like?”
She considered her answer for a moment. “Everything. I don’t like the way they smell, usually. I don’t like the way they look, frequently. I don’t like the way they speak to me. I do not like interacting with very many people. I do so because I have to.”
“Now, you see, I find that absolutely fascinating,” he said. And he meant it too. “The fact that we are complete opposites in that regard is so very interesting. I appreciate that, and I thank you for sharing that information with me.”
She smiled. For the first time since she sat herself in his phaeton that afternoon, Miss Hanslow actually smiled.
“Lord Wickford! Oh, Lord Wickford!”
Joshua looked around to see who was calling his name and found a group of young ladies all on horseback. They were in three jostling rows coming toward him, many of them laughing and waving.
He waved back and pulled his horse to a stop. “My goodness, I don’t believe I have ever seen more lovely women all together,” he called out.
“Oh, pish-tosh, you’ve seen us all together at a ball,” Lady Welles exclaimed with a laugh.
“Ah, true, but never all of you together on horseback,” he amended. “Do you all know Miss Hanslow?”
“No! How do you do?” Lady Colburne said, giving the girl a nod and a smile.
“Miss Hanslow, allow me to introduce you to my friends.” He rattled off all their names ending with Miss Sherman, who was all the way in the back next to Miss Benton.
Miss Hanslow nodded to each one as they all jostled with each other, trying to come forward to greet them.
Miss Sherman ended up in front, just next to his carriage with his friend Rossburke’s new wife, Margaret, next to her. “Miss Hanslow, I wonder if you are aware of the very special privilege you have been awarded,” Margaret asked.
The young lady next to him widened her eyes. “No, what is that, my lady?”
“Why, being driven by Lord Wickford, of course. My husband is his closest friend—they went to school together—and according to him, Wickford never takes young ladies for a drive in the park. You must consider yourself very lucky indeed!”
“Oh! I wasn’t aware of this. Indeed, I am honored,” the girl said, not sounding quite as sincere as Joshua might have liked. He gave her a smile all the same.
“Lady Rossburke, I do hope you are not spilling all of my secrets to your companions as you ride?” he asked with a laugh.
“Oh, maybe one or two. Enjoy your drive!” She gave a delicate laugh and then, with a nod, moved off with her friends.
The whole group of ladies continued on, and Joshua gave his horse the go-ahead to continue forward as well.
“My goodness but you know a lot of ladies,” Miss Hanslow commented, sounding a little surprised.
“As I said, I like people, therefore, I have a good number of friends.”
The young lady was silent again after that, clearly thinking about what he’d said. He wondered if she was lonely. If one didn’t like people, he imagined one wouldn’t have a lot friends, and Joshua simply couldn’t imagine his life without his friends. They were an integral part of who he was, and even more important than his club or anything else in his life, he realized.