Page 44 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)
“I see,” Grace said quietly, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “But don’t worry. I promise your secrets, whatever they are, will stay hidden here. I would not dare anger the infamous Erebus.”
At the mention of that name, Gideon’s eyes flashed with something akin to fury, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
But Grace appeared unperturbed by his reaction. She stood gracefully and unhurriedly, moving to an ornate trunk in the corner of the room. She picked out several items of clothing, sorting through them with the eye of someone who knew her business well.
She turned back to them and handed a few items to Leila—a cloak of midnight blue silk, a dress similar to the one Grace was wearing, and a tall, white wig.
Grace then turned to Gideon and handed him a gentleman’s cloak and an ornate mask that would cover the upper half of his face.
“You’ll need these to blend in,” she explained matter-of-factly.
“You’ll have to dress as a harlot leaving with a customer—it’s the only way you can move through the public areas without drawing attention. ”
A harlot. The word made Leila’s stomach churn, but she recognized the practicality of the disguise.
Grace moved to what appeared to be a bookshelf, but when she pressed a particular volume, a section of the wall swung inward to reveal a hidden passage. “When you leave this room, go through the corridor, then turn right. Second door on the left. You can change there.”
She returned to her desk and pulled something from a drawer—a small pot that she handed to Leila. “It’s powder to cover your face. The less you look like yourself, the better.” She settled back into her chair. “Once you’re done, come back to this room, and Ford will have arrived by then.”
Gideon took Leila by the hand, his fingers warm and steady against hers, and led her down the narrow corridor to the small room Grace had directed them to use. The space was barely larger than a closet, but it was sufficient.
Leila studied the clothes Grace had given them with distaste, wrinkling her nose as she held up the dress. She was reluctant to wear something a harlot had once used, but she had no choice. Upon closer inspection, though, the dress appeared clean and smelled of soap.
“What did she call you?” she asked, setting the dress aside and beginning to unbutton the oversized shirt that hung loosely on her frame.
As she reached for the hem of her shirt, she suddenly became aware of Gideon’s presence.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized she was about to undress in front of him.
He’d seen her naked before and kissed her in her most intimate places, but this felt different—more vulnerable.
Her movements slowed, and she glanced up to find him watching her with an unreadable expression.
Gideon seemed to recognize her discomfort immediately. He smiled and turned away to face the wall. “Erebus,” he said matter-of-factly.
Even with his back turned, Leila felt exposed as she pulled the shirt over her head. “Yes, what is that?” she asked, her voice slightly breathless as she reached for the dress.
“A leader of The Shadows society.”
Leila paused in her movements, one arm halfway through the dress sleeve. “Another secret society?” A note of exasperation crept into her voice.
“Yes. In England, for some reason, secret societies began popping up like weeds in the thirteenth century.” His tone carried a hint of bitter amusement.
“Most of them were bent on world domination through despicable means. The Shadows were supposed to be different. They were meant to help the helpless, to expose the corrupt…” He paused.
“I inherited the mantle of the leader, but I am not willing to lead.”
“Why not?” Leila asked, genuinely curious as she worked to pull the dress down over her torso. “If what you say is true, it sounds like they do good work.”
“Because the previous Erebus was nothing to aspire to. He was corrupt, like many in power tend to become.” His voice grew harder, more bitter. “Besides, being in this society is what killed my family. The only reason I accepted the mantle is to avenge them. After that, I’ll be done with all of it.”
“But doesn’t it do good?” she asked softly, beginning to work on the fastenings of her breeches.
“It was supposed to,” Gideon clarified, his voice growing distant. “But that’s not how it turned out. I suppose it’s only the leader who was corrupt. There are still some good people in the group—people who believe in the original mission.”
Leila fumbled with the complicated fastenings, her fingers clumsy with the unfamiliar ties. “Will they come if you call them for help?” If there were good people there, surely they would be willing to assist Gideon in his mission.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” he asked neutrally. “I wish I didn’t have to involve anyone. I don’t want to put them in danger.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I told you how my family died in the fire, how I wasn’t there…”
“Yes, but you mustn’t blame yourself,” she said gently, pausing in her struggle with the breeches and looking at him over her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I was on a mission for the Shadows when it happened,” he said, his voice withdrawn and hollow.
“I was tasked with following some useless drunk who turned out to be nothing special. But I was so proud to be part of the mission, so eager to prove myself.” He let out a bitter laugh.
“Until I came home to find everything I loved consumed by roaring flames. I left town, left the Shadows, left everything that day,” he continued.
“I don’t want anyone to experience that kind of loss.
But if we can finish this now, if we can end the Brotherhood once and for all, we’ll need all the help we can get. ”
Leila finally managed to work the breeches free and pulled them down her legs, discarding them in a heap on the floor. “And when it’s finished? What are you going to do next?”
He was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat and resigned.
“I hadn’t expected to survive this long.
” He paused, and she heard him take a shaky breath.
“I don’t have anyone to inherit the title after I pass, so it will likely return to the crown.
But if, by some miracle, I do survive… to be honest, I don’t know what my life would look like.
I don’t think my future lies in England,” he continued.
“I have nothing to live for here—just bitter memories.”
He turned back to her suddenly, his eyes briefly sweeping over her as he took in her appearance in the borrowed dress. “Do you need help lacing up?”
She could have managed it herself; she’d been dressing without assistance for years. But with his help, it would be quicker.
“Please,” she said softly.
He moved behind her, his presence warm and solid at her back. She felt his fingers brush her hair forward, gathering the dark strands and draping them over her shoulder to expose the laces of her dress.
As he began working the laces, pulling them tight to cinch the dress to her figure, his breath ghosted across the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. Each exhale was warm against her sensitive skin, making her pulse quicken. She heard him swallow audibly, the sound resonating in the small space.
“Does this place make you uncomfortable?” he asked quietly, his fingers still working methodically at her laces.
“Yes,” she admitted, grateful that he couldn’t see her face. “I want to believe the proprietress’s words that the harlots here enjoy engaging in intimate relations with different people, but…” She trailed off, unable to voice her doubts.
He paused, his hands stilling against her back. She could feel his hesitation, as if he were debating whether to share something with her. “You can see for yourself if you want,” he finally said.
She turned her head sharply, trying to catch his expression. “What do you mean? Are you saying I should engage a harlot to see if they enjoy it?”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against her back. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. But you can watch. I think it would be obvious if they are enthusiastic about it or not.”
“Watch?” Her voice came out as a squeak.
“There are observing chambers. Holes in the walls allow people to watch couples in intimate embrace from their dark little rooms.” His hands resumed their work on her laces, pulling them snug.
“But the men and women who are observed choose that room. They know they are being watched, and supposedly they enjoy the exhibition.”
The concept was so foreign to her that she struggled to understand it. “Have you used one of those rooms?”
“No,” he said quietly. “But I’ve witnessed it in passing.”
When he finished with her laces, they made their way into the enclosed corridor, but instead of heading directly to Grace’s office, Gideon led her in the opposite direction. He paused before a small door and pushed it open.
They found themselves in a space not much larger than the secret passage they’d used to get there—barely big enough for two people to stand comfortably. It was dark and cramped, furnished only with a small table, a single chair, and a jug of water.
Almost immediately, Leila could hear sounds from the adjoining room—soft moaning, the creak of bedsprings, whispered words she couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.
“We can leave right away if you want,” Gideon said softly, apparently reading her distress. “But these are the observing chambers. You can see for yourself whether the participants seem willing or not.”
Leila couldn’t suppress her curiosity. The sounds from the next room grew more intense, and she found herself drawn forward until she encountered several small holes in the wall, each about the size of a gold coin.