C ymbeline tugged at her shirt in the dark, small room hidden away at the top of the club, trying to put her disguise back to rights.
She tried very hard not to stomp her booted foot in frustration, but the binding had somehow twisted, even though she had done it exactly as her mother had told her to do, exactly as she had the other times she had ventured out.
Even though she had practiced over and over again and had more experience than she should with this.
But for whatever reason, it was not behaving as it ought.
She let out a curse under her breath and attempted to twist it back into shape, trying to tuck the loose end back in place without divesting herself of her clothes.
She was not about to be caught half naked in a club surrounded by men.
Suddenly, the door opened and a man immediately began, “Look, I wanted to apologize to you. I feel like—”
And then his voice died off immediately.
She whipped around, spotted the Duke of Baxter, let out a full-throated curse, and then ordered, “Get out.”
He did.
The Duke of Baxter stepped back, shut the door, and then there was a very long, very awkward silence. She stood in the dim blue light of late evening, closed her eyes, and nearly let out a scream.
Calchas was never going to forgive her. Her mother was never going to forgive her. She could only pray that her wig was good enough and most of her outfit was good enough that he would never make the connection that she was Cymbeline Briarwood, niece of the Duke of Westleigh.
Had Baxter been able to deduce she was a woman?
“Do forgive me,” he said through the door.
She pressed her lips together, feeling at a stalemate.
But then he let out an audible sigh and said, “There’s nothing for it.”
And then the door began to open again. She let out a bleat of alarm, but he appeared to pay no attention to it. As a matter of fact, he opened the door all the way, strode in, and shut it behind him.
If he had dominated the room downstairs, here, in this small space, he ruled it.
Still, she would not be cowed, even though she knew she was in the wrong. She had invaded a male space, it was true, and if he had deduced it—and surely only a dunderhead would not at this point—he could expose it to the heads of the club. If he did, things could get quite chancy.
She held her breath, praying he had not noticed the obvious.
“I had no idea you were a woman,” he said softly.
She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I knew that something wasn’t quite right, but life is full of all sorts of oddities, and I just…
felt like I had given you offense downstairs, so I followed you.
I hate giving offense, though I realize that many people might not believe that to be true, given my character.
But I wanted to tell you I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.
But I see now that, well…a great deal more was afoot than I realized. ”
“You, sir, are clearly not used to being at a loss for words.”
He let out a laugh. “That is true.”
“Are you going to tell people?” she said softly.
“Tell who exactly?” he asked.
“The heads of the club.”
“I assumed that the Briarwoods know that you are not exactly as you seem.”
She winced. “No, I have not lied to them,” she said, wondering if she had to reveal they were her cousins. “I am not really a liar, sir.”
“You could fool me,” he said.
“I suppose you are correct in the grand scheme of things. We tell the truths that we wish to tell through our own eyes. And truly, I have not lied to them. They know.” She frowned, feeling at a loss as the consequences of discovery began to crash upon her.
“I guess I have certainly lied to everyone else in this establishment, but you see, as a young woman, I simply wanted to know what it was like.”
“What what was like?” he asked, his voice a deliciously low hum as he seemed to display genuine curiosity and not judgement.
“To be a man.”
He arched a brow. “I don’t think you can ever know what it’s like to be a man.”
“No, of course not,” she rushed. “And actually, I don’t wish to be a man.
Not like that.” She licked her lips, gathering her argument.
Could he understand? “You see, I wanted to know what it was like to just be able to stride about and be free and not have to wait to be spoken to first and not have to wait to be asked to do things. Men can do so much, you see? Ladies can’t go out like this to clubs and have independent lives and opinions.
Not truly. They can only have a semblance of it if they are attached to a powerful man, such as a father, a brother, or a husband. Money helps too.”
Baxter cocked his head to the side. “You want to live life to the fullest?” he concluded.
She blinked, rather shocked at how quickly he caught on. “Exactly, yes.”
“You’re my kind of person then.”
“Am I?” she queried, both amazed and intrigued as her insides began to act in those shocking ways they had upon their first meeting.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” he said. “To live a full life is the entire premise of my existence.”
He paused, contemplating her. “Who are you?” he asked. “And don’t lie now.”
“I can’t tell you, Your Grace, because if I do, I could get my family into a great deal of difficulty.”
“Tell me,” he instructed in that inarguable manner of dukes, “and I promise that no harm will come to you or to any of your family.”
She swallowed. She was not going to get out of this easily, and the truth was that lying more would only make it more difficult. “Fine then,” she said. “I am Cymbeline, daughter of Lord Ajax Briarwood and Lady Winifred.”
He gaped at her for a long moment, then started laughing. The laugh boomed about the room and then the laugh turned into a groan. “Oh, dear God, your father’s going to murder me when he finds out about this.”
“Everyone does like to say that about him,” she said ruefully, “But he’s really quite gentle, you know.”
“Ajax Briarwood, gentle?” the Duke of Baxter scoffed. “Have you ever seen him beat a man into a pulp?”
“I confess I have not,” she said.
“Well, if you had, you would not be saying such things. I am alone with his daughter and she’s in a state of undress.”
“I am not in a state of undress,” she huffed, though…she did wonder what it might be like to be in a state of undress with him. But she dared not think such a thing. Not at present. It would muddle her reasoning and she needed all of that just now.
“Well, it looked like you were about to be.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she admitted, looking down at her binding peeking through the open V at the neck of her shirt. She frowned. “I suppose I should have found a way to block the door.”
“Yes, I suppose you should have.” He straightened and then a mischievous smile pulled at his lips. “Well…” he began, “this is a predicament.”
“It isn’t.” She shooed at him. “Why don’t you just turn around and go away? Then I shall put things to rights and follow you downstairs.”
“I can’t do that,” he said softly.
“Why?” she asked, not sure if she was delighted or dismayed.
“Because I don’t retreat from things. It’s not something that I do and, quite frankly, I’m quite relieved.”
“What?” she blurted.
“I’m relieved to find out that you are, well, you. ” His gaze darkened and he took a step towards her. “Because I was captivated by you, and I have no problems with anybody loving who they wish. But, my dear, I find that I am greatly relieved that you are a woman.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Oh dear, are you about to make my life very complicated?”
“Only as complicated as you want it to be,” he growled, gently taking another step towards her.
“I am about to have my first Season. I will not allow you to compromise me, Your Grace.”
He gazed down at her through hooded eyes and his sensual lips parted. “I have no wish to compromise you, but I do wish to pursue you.”
She let her mouth drop open as she locked gazes with him and his words landed upon her ears. This was exactly what she wanted the moment she had seen him! She’d wanted him to pursue her. She wanted him. There was no question about it.
But this was all happening so oddly. Perhaps, as a Briarwood, that was exactly how it was supposed to happen. Not normally, not in a ballroom, not during a waltz.
Yes, this was perfect in a small room, in a club of theater goers and theater lovers, with no one else about them!
“Why do I interest you?” she dared to ask, not wanting to seem like a cotton-headed girl who could be won with a few words.
He let out another laugh. “If you have to ask that, you don’t know me at all.”
“I don’t know you,” she pointed out. “I’ve only ever heard of you and seen you across very crowded rooms.”
“And you like what you’ve heard?”
She bit her lower lip and then nodded. “Of course I do. How could I not? You’re one of the few people who I feel lives like my family does.”
“Yes, your family is quite interesting. And I think it is quite fortuitous that we have met. Now…” he ventured, “whatever shall we make of this?”
“I still think you should turn around and go.”
He tsked as if he was disappointed. “Well, Mr. Marlowe , if you wish me to turn around and go, I shall. I won’t betray you, I promise you that. It shall be our secret.”
“Secrets are dangerous,” she returned.
“You chose secrets when you came here dressed as a man.”
“I suppose I did,” she agreed. “But I won’t make a habit of it. This is quite a difficult pickle.”
“It’s not,” he said softly. “Not at all, because I don’t hurt people.”
“You don’t?” she asked softly.
“No. Why would I choose to hurt people when I have the power to help them instead?”
Then, much to her shock and pleasure, he closed the small distance between them, towering over her. “But you? You are not something that I’m going to just be able to give up easily, and I don’t think you want me to, do you?”
“Your Grace,” she began, “why would you want to pursue someone like me?” She scowled suddenly. “Unless you are saying you wish to make me your mistress, and if you wish to make me your mistress, I shall stomp upon your foot and send you running.”
He laughed again, a low rumble, as if he found her delicious and wished to sample her. “Oh, I’m not running anywhere, and I don’t wish to make a young lady or a person of your family my mistress. No, I want to see if you are a good fit.”
“A good fit?” she echoed, the idea fascinating on many sorts of levels.
He nodded, those magnificent eyes of his shimmering iridescent.
“A good fit for what?” she whispered.
“Me,” he rumbled. “Because, you know, almost no one is.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. How did he do that? How was he always stealing her breath away?
It was such an interesting thing to say because everyone seemed to adore him. So surely, almost anyone would be a good fit, wouldn’t they?
“I don’t understand,” she admitted.
“I have to find out if you can keep up.”
“Keep up with what?”
“With me, of course,” he said, his voice an infuriating thrum of temptation.
Her mouth dropped open, then she snapped it shut, lest he accuse her of gaping. At last, she managed, “I could leave you in the dust, Your Grace.”
He said nothing. Except he lifted his hand and stroked the side of her cheek. He tilted her face side to side and then touched her wig. “Fascinating,” he said. “Utterly and absolutely fascinating. You’re not interested in wasting life, are you?”
“Wasting it?” she breathed. “Why in God’s name would I waste the only life that I’ve ever been given?”
He smiled slowly. “Yes. Yes, indeed. I have a very, very good feeling about this, and I’ve never been so delighted to have attended the theater and then come out to this club. I think it was meant to be.”
“Do you believe in such things?” she asked softly.
“If things are meant to be?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Given my life, I refuse to believe it is full of a series of mere coincidences. No. There is something grander at play.” Then he frowned. “You don’t think life is random, do you?”
She gave a shake of her head. “A Briarwood never could.”
“I shall come to call tomorrow,” he said suddenly.
She winced. “Oh God, my entire family is going to know that I failed.”
He smiled slowly, trailing his thumb close to her lower lip. Then, as if thinking better of it, he dragged his hand away. “Perhaps your failing is your greatest success,” he said. “It’s led you to me.”
Her eyes flared, and she couldn’t stop her snort. “That is an extremely arrogant thing to say. Are you suggesting that you coming to court me is the greatest win of my life?”
“Oh, it won’t be the greatest one of your life,” he said unapologetically. “But it’ll be the first of many. And let’s not be silly. If the Duke of Baxter wants to come to call upon a young lady, it’s a significant thing, don’t you agree?”
She arched a brow. “It is,” she allowed. “And if you wish to be truthful and honest all the time, then I shall go ahead.”
“Yes,” he prompted softly.
She swallowed, hardly daring to believe she was going to be so bold! But she was the daughter of Ajax and Winifred Briarwood. How could she be anything but?
“I want you to come to call,” she stated. “I’m glad you’re here right now, and quite frankly, this is the beginning of the greatest adventure of my life. I can feel it in my bones.”