Page 23 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)

“A re you certain you need something? I mean, Powell’s is known for its rum, but it’s also known as a very nice place. The quiet of the reading room, the excellent chef—” Jamie stopped abruptly.

“The chef isn’t there any longer,” Welles pointed out, but it was clear that just after he’d said it, Jamie had remembered that.

“Right. Well, anyway, it’s not only for the rum that men go to your club,” Jamie said.

“I agree. It’s got an excellent ambience. It’s generally a very nice place to go,” Warwick said.

“Thank you. I appreciate your kind words, but still, I feel that it would be better with… something.” Joshua looked around at the men. “Can you think of any sort of liquor I might be able to serve that would interest the members?”

“I have a good stock of excellent brandy,” Warwick offered.

“That’s very generous, Your Grace, but isn’t that a little… ordinary? A lot of people have a good stock of brandy,” Joshua pointed out.

Warwick shrugged.

“What about whiskey?” Jamie asked.

“Says the Scot!” Colburne said with a laugh.

They all chuckled at poor Rossburke’s expense, but he took it well.

“It’s a good drink, and it’s not easy to find a good whiskey in London,” Jamie pointed out.

“You’re absolutely right. Not a lot of men like it, though. It’s stronger than what they’re used to,” Warwick said.

They all nodded their agreement.

There was silence as the men all sat and thought.

“Have you tried getting rum from somewhere else?” Welles asked.

“I have.” Joshua told them about his rounds of all the pubs and taverns in London and the surrounds. “Not one of them had anything close to the quality we’re used to. I don’t mean to brag, but Powell’s rum is, hands-down, the finest in England.”

“Well, not currently actually in England,” Jamie said quietly.

“Thank you for that reminder.” Joshua frowned at his closest friend.

The man just shrugged apologetically.

“I have an odd idea,” Colburne began slowly.

They all looked to him.

“When I was living in Paris, I had a friend who was Greek. He drank something called mastiha . It’s made on one of the Greek islands and not very well known. I happened to like it very much and bought a few cases from him, which I’ve brought here to London. I’ve hardly touched them, to be honest.”

“Conway mentioned mastiha to me once,” Warwick said. “I don’t remember what it was we were talking about, but he commented that it was a favorite of his when he lived in Italy.”

“What does it taste like?” Joshua asked.

“It’s an herbal flavor, a touch of licorice and pine. It’s very distinctive and, according to my Greek friend, good for the digestion.”

Joshua laughed. “Of course a physician would recommend a liqueur that’s good for you.”

The other men laughed.

“I wonder if Conway has any more?” Jamie asked.

“It would have to be a lot. I’m running a club. I’ve got a couple hundred members,” Joshua pointed out.

“Well, if you like it and think your members would as well, it will certainly take a lot less time to ship it here from the Greek islands than it would to ship rum from the West Indies,” Welles pointed out.

“That’s very true.” Joshua turned to Colburne. “Do you think you could bring some over for me to taste?”

“Of course! I’ll bring it over tomorrow. And I’ll ask Conway how much he has left,” Colburne offered.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

~May 13~

Gwendolyn had been sorely tempted to have a band, trumpeters, fireworks—something that would have shouted out to the world “The Ryder Street Club for Ladies is now open!” But she didn’t have any of that. It simply wasn’t in keeping with the quietly elegant atmosphere she was trying to create for her club.

Instead, she had called upon Bee and Bel to help, and they had come through with so much more than she’d ever expected. They’d asked the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society to help! Gwendolyn still couldn’t believe it, and if she weren’t now seeing with her own eyes all the ladies of the Society circulating around the Ryder Street Club tea room, she would never have believed it.

Gwendolyn, herself, was merely wandering around chatting with ladies as if she were just another woman here to see the new club. Her one concession was the dress she was wearing. She’d had it made specially for this occasion. It was a lilac color with white lace ribbons and matched the room perfectly. Of course, a number of women commented on this last fact. Gwen just laughed and exclaimed over the coincidence.

Not only were all the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society there, they’d invited everyone they knew. The club was filled with curious women. It was true, a good percentage of them were highly suspicious of this new club, but they were there! And Gwendolyn was certain that when they saw the elegance, felt the camaraderie, and tasted the tea and the food, she would have a good number of new members by the end of the afternoon.

There was a tinging of someone hitting something against a teacup.

“Ladies, ladies, may I have your attention please?” Bel called out. She rose up above all the heads as she was helped up onto a chair. She turned and smiled at everyone. “Ladies, welcome to the Ryder Street Club for Ladies!”

There was a smattering of applause.

“I know that this is an entirely new concept for you—well, for all of us!” She gave a little laugh. “But isn’t it about time that we had our own club?” She nodded and waited while many of the women clapped again. “Our fathers, husbands, and brothers have enjoyed their exclusive clubs. It is time that we had one of our own. We now have the opportunity to enjoy excellent tea—have you tasted this tea?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. “There is a card room upstairs, and of course, the restaurant where members may come accompanied by non-members, so that you may bring your gentleman companions to enjoy the delicious meals prepared by the chef, Monsieur Michel Ropier.”

“Are you the owner?” one lady called out.

“Me?” Bel burst into peals of laughter. “No! No, I assure you, I am not. The owner wishes to remain anonymous.”

“Then who is going to see that everything is running smoothly?” another woman asked.

“Ah, we have Mr. Jamieson.” Bel indicated Jamieson, who was standing off by the entrance to the back hallway. “He is the majordomo and will be running the club while the owner is not here. He is highly qualified, having worked at Clarendon’s Hotel for many years.”

Jamieson gave a little bow.

“I have been asked, however, to welcome you all. There are refreshments.” She waved a hand toward the tables laden with cakes, biscuits, and small sandwiches. “The tea is a special blend that has been created particularly for the Ryder Street Club. And this evening, the restaurant will open for dinner. And there is a table in the back of the room where you can sign up to become a member of the club. Membership is open to all for the next week, and after that, one must be sponsored by an existing member. So if you are even considering membership, now is the best time to join.”

“Can you leave if you decide you don’t want to be a member any longer?” someone asked.

“Yes. We will discuss particulars when you join,” Mr. Jamieson called out from the back of the room.

“But I assure you, ladies, you will not be sorry if you do join the club. This is exactly what we have all been waiting for,” Bel concluded. “Please enjoy yourselves.”

Gwendolyn made her way through the crowd toward Bel as she was being helped down from her chair.

“That was wonderful! What a perfect welcome,” Gwendolyn said. She wanted so much to hug her and thank her even more profusely, but she knew she had to be circumspect, so that no one thought for even a moment that she might be the owner of the club.

“Oh, I’m glad. I figured someone had to say something, so I just… did it,” Bel said with a shrug.

“You did an excellent job. I agree with Miss Sherman,” Lady Blakemore said joining them.

“This is a very good turn-out,” Lady Ayres said, also coming up.

“I’ve heard it is all the doing of the Ladies Wagering Whist Society,” Gwendolyn said, giving both of the older ladies a smile.

“But what I, and nearly everyone else, wants to know is who the owner is,” the Duchess of Bolton said, also joining them. She gave Bel a meaningful look.

“You mean you don’t know?” Lady Findlater asked. She had been standing just behind Gwendolyn.

“I don’t know,” the duchess said, shaking her head so that her jowls wobbled.

“Nor I,” both Lady Blakemore and Lady Ayres said practically in unison.

“Why does it matter? Mr. Jamieson is here to see to everything and answer any questions,” Bel pointed out.

“Because I like to know who owns the clubs I join,” the lady said.

“Have you joined any other clubs, my lady?” Lady Blakemore asked.

She got a nasty look for that remark. “That is neither here nor there. I think it highly suspect that the owner is hiding him—or herself.”

“But what if it’s a man, and he doesn’t think that ladies would join a club owned by a man?” Gwendolyn offered.

“Or a woman who doesn’t want her reputation tainted?” Lady Ayres added.

“Clearly, it is wise of whoever owns the club to stay quietly in the background,” Bel agreed.

“ Harumph !” was all Lady Findlater could say before moving off.

“It is true,” Lady Moreton said, taking her place. “All anyone is talking about is who the owner might be. Well, that and how delicious the tea is.”

“It is good, isn’t it?” Gwendolyn asked with a broad smile. She was particularly pleased with her creation of black tea mixed with lavender flowers and a touch of orange essence.

“But I agree with Bel, whoever it is, is right to stay hidden,” Lady Blakemore said.

Gwendolyn had never in her life been more grateful for her friends. And that evening when Mr. Jamieson slipped her a tally of the day’s new members, while she was having dinner in the dining room with her friends and her father, she was even more so!

When she arrived home after an exhausting day, she found an enormous bouquet of flowers from Lord Wickford, congratulating her on the club’s opening.

She wanted so much to throw them directly into the gutter but ended up taking them up to her room and staring at them until she fell asleep.

~May 14 ~

Joshua’s mother turned to him moments after they entered Lady Rexford’s ballroom. She patted him on the cheek and said, “You go on and find a nice girl to dance with. I’ll be over there with my friends.” She gave him a smile and then went toward Lady Emmerton, Lady Wraxley, and Lady Findlater.

“Mother,” he said, catching up to her. “How do you know those ladies?”

She turned toward him. “Why, I met them at my club, why?”

“Oh, er, nothing, it’s just that… well, you know at least two of them are known to be horrible gossips.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” She gave him a broad smile. “My darling, surely you’ve heard the saying, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?” With a little laugh she went off to chat with the women.

Joshua could only shake his head. He should have known she would have things well in hand. She was much too clever to be taken in by the wrong sort.

He turned to see which young ladies he might entice onto the dance floor. His eyes immediately landed on Miss Hanslow. She was standing facing slightly away from him, watching those on the floor. She and her mother had their heads together, as if they were the best of friends sharing confidences. The thought brought a warm feeling to Joshua’s heart. If she were close with her mother, then it was entirely likely she would become close to his if they married. He liked the idea so much, he found himself by her side within moments.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, giving them a bow.

“Good evening, Lord Wickford,” Miss Hanslow said. Her expression didn’t exactly light up to see him. She didn’t look displeased, just not particularly pleased either. His nerves faltered ever so slightly. “We were just noticing that Miss Reis is dancing with Lord Roseberry,” she said, nodding toward the couple on the floor.

“Oh, yes. That’s excellent. Miss Reis is a very nice young lady, and Roseberry is a fine gentleman,” Joshua said pleasantly.

Miss Hanslow suppressed a laugh behind her hand. Her mother wasn’t so discreet and laughed right out loud.

Joshua smiled hesitantly. “I beg your pardon, did I say something funny?”

“Not precisely,” Miss Hanslow said, even though she was clearly amused.

“There is talk that the relationship between Lord Roseberry and Mr. Hershawn is… well, more than that of good friends,” Lady Hanslow said. She frowned when she turned back to Joshua. “We do not approve of such disgusting relationships, so one can only hope that either the rumors are not true, or the young lady in question is able to turn him in the correct direction.” The lady’s voice was practically imperious, as if she had pronounced herself queen of decorum.

Now it was Joshua’s turn to frown. “Honestly, I don’t see that it’s any of our business who Lord Roseberry is, er, close to.” Joshua had known a number of boys at school who had experimented with each other, and he was aware there were some who still preferred the companionship of other men. There were even such rumors concerning Lord Byron.

“Really, my lord!” Miss Hanslow sounded horrified.

“Yes, really, Miss Hanslow,” he said. He shook his head. He was not going to be drawn into such an inappropriate conversation. “Miss Hanslow, may I have the next dance if you are not already engaged?”

“Oh yes, of course. Lord Featherington has requested the dinner dance, but I do believe I have the next dance free,” the girl said.

“Excellent.” Joshua searched his mind for some other topic of conversation, but Lady Hanslow jumped to it before him.

“My lord, what do you think of this ridiculous new club for ladies?” the lady asked.