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Ten

WAYLAND’S, LONDON - JUNE 15, 1816

TOM

I preferred Wayland’s to every other club, but certainly to White’s. Though I may have been a touch biased.

In the near fortnight since the masquerade, Michael’s club had been returned to its usual state, where gaming tables ruled the land and there was no dance floor to be found. My brother nodded toward his office before stepping past to knock on Augie’s door.

I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. It was precisely as I’d left it and a wave of warmth rushed over me. For a few moments, I could be the man I’d always wished to be. I could flirt and smile, laugh and tease a handsome gentleman. And the world didn’t end.

Michael barged in with a stack of paperwork.

“What are you doing with all of that? I thought you handed most everything over to Augie.”

“I did. But the ball was Juliet’s idea. He didn’t want to deal with the nonsense of it, so I agreed to manage that piece.”

“Why did you?”

“We had just lost the babe. Jules wasn’t feeling herself. And… she gave up a great deal to be with me. She asks for so few of the luxuries of her former life. Someday you’ll understand. When the woman you love asks you for something within your power to give… There’s nothing to say but yes.”

“It seems unlike her, as well.”

He sighed, then dragged a hand through his hair while he strode to his desk and settled there. I took the chair opposite it, rather than one by the fire. Those were special.

“She’s a lady. They like to wear fussy gowns and dance on occasion. Or so I’m told.”

I hummed and stretched my feet up atop the desk before me in the way Michael loathed. He glared at the intrusion but bit back the complaints.

“You can go play, if you wish. I saw Lord Haxburg down there. He’s abysmal at hazard. You can take him for a tidy sum.”

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit, if it’s not an intrusion.”

“You’re always welcome,” he replied. The way he said it, so matter of fact, I could believe it—this Tom, the one who adored actresses and opera singers, and slung his dirty booted feet across the desk, he was always welcome.

But the Tom I wished to be… Would he always be welcome? If anyone were capable of it… it would be Michael.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Hugh and I were at White’s the other day.”

His gaze shot up, brow furrowed. “The brothel?”

“The club,” I replied incredulously. “There’s a brothel called White’s?”

I received a chuckle for my naivete. “It looks better on the ledgers. Easier to cover one’s tracks.”

That was… rather ingenious. “Well, we were at the club. I loathe it.”

“Why did you go with Hugh then?”

“It was something to do… And I was looking for someone.” My breath caught, though I’d given him nothing.

“Oh?”

“A gentleman. I thought I might try to strike up a friendship.” Deep in my chest, my heart froze.

“A friendship? With whom?” Michael set aside the quill and stood to attend to the drink cart. He raised an empty glass with a questioning brow. At my nod, he poured two.

When he set one before me, he knocked my feet off the desk with a sharp hand. The gesture shocked my lungs back to working.

I swallowed against my dry mouth. “Rosehill.” I tried for simple, unaffected. But there was something strained in the word.

Michael straightened before me and froze there for a beat. A second. Before moving back to his chair with his drink.

“A friendship. With Rosehill.”

“Yes,” I choked out.

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, before he took a careful sip of his drink. Michael was always comfortable in his skin, always. But this effort was studied.

“Rosehill is a good man,” he said carefully. At my nod of agreement, he continued. “I wasn’t happy with the way he handled Juliet’s request to end their engagement. But I understand his reasons and I cannot fault him for them.”

“You do?”

“Understand his reasons? I do.” Michael ran a hand through his dark waves—so much more like mine than Hugh’s long strands. With a fortifying breath, he forged on. “And I’m beginning to suspect that you do as well.”

I swallowed, numbness settling into my extremities. “I believe that I do.”

“Tom…” He drew out the word, letting it hang in the silence. His mouth slipped open and he started before aborting the effort. He repeated that effort several times before he finally managed. “Anything you need, or want. Juliet and I… we are here for you. Unconditionally.”

Tears filled my eyes, entirely without permission. But the weight on my chest was gone. The air was thick, nourishing. I could breathe again.

“I— Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Jules and I… If it were possible to choose who to fall in love with, I wouldn’t have my wife. But, Tom, you understand the implications of what you’re telling me?”

I shook my head, curls brushing my ears. “There’s nothing to tell. And there’s every chance there never will be. But I just…”

“Wanted to tell someone?”

“Precisely.”

He pressed his lips together in a thin facsimile of a smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Hugh…”

That gave Michael pause. They’d worked at their relationship in recent years, forming a bond that, while not like the one he and I shared, was respectful. “Hugh has a title. And a son who will inherit that title and all the responsibilities that come with it. He doesn’t have the freedom that comes with vast wealth and a deep loathing of polite society.”

“I know that—I do.”

“Hugh has surprised me before. He could do it again. If you want him to know… You have my support in whatever you decide. To be honest, I might need to explain a few things to him first. He’s still painfully naive.” Michael broke off with an amused chuckle. “I do not know what he’s told you, but if you require a diagram, I’m afraid I’ve no practical advice to give.”

I had no idea what he meant, but he seemed to be laughing at Hugh’s expense, which was usually deserved.

“You’re not planning to tell your mother, are you?” he asked suddenly. “Because that might be the condition to the unconditional support.”

“Are you certain? Because that may actually give her the megrim that kills her.”

“Christ, you’re right. Please tell her.”

I settled back in my chair, matching his laughter with my own.

The hours slipped by in idle chatter, swirled signatures, and topped off drinks. Dawn was just beginning to crest when the door swung open, interrupting the hard-won ease.

“Augie, we’ve discussed this,” Michael chastised with half-hearted irritation.

The man in question strode into the office and gave a performative knock on the desk between Michael and me. My brother, used to such behavior from his second, merely raised a brow.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“A problem without fifty ledgers to sort through? What a delightful turn.”

Augie waved to someone I hadn’t noticed lingering in the doorway. The gentleman was rail thin with clothing so mismatched, even I could see it. The trousers were too short, with shoes too large. Thin arms crossed over a properly fitted shirt, though it was covered with a black-and-white waistcoat several sizes too big. A familiar waistcoat.

My gaze shot to the gentleman’s face. It was then I recognized the heavy—if slightly more delicate than her brother’s—brow of Lady Davina under the outdated powdered wig.

Laughter burst from my chest with no warning.

“Damn it all, I told my wife this would happen. The club is too much temptation.”

Lady Davina huffed. “Oh yes, it’s irresistible. That’s precisely why I’m here.”

“Well, why are you here then, Miss…”

“Why should I tell you?” she asked tartly.

“Lady Davina.” I supplied. The lady herself wrinkled her nose at me. “Rosehill’s sister,” I added when presented with his blank stare.

A low curse escaped Michael. “How much did you lose?”

“She didn’t,” Augie cut in.

“She didn’t what?”

“Lose.”

“She won?” Michael asked, incredulity heavy in his voice and in his eyes.

“Of course I won,” she crowed.

“Well how the devil did you manage that? How do you even know how to play?”

“Gabriel taught me,” she snapped.

“Oh. So he taught you how to cheat,” Michael extrapolated.

“I didn’t cheat. He taught me to play properly.”

“Baldwin was watching the play tonight,” Augie interjected. “He didn’t notice anything untoward until Beaumont accused her. Once he saw her up close…”

“Who let her in?” Michael asked.

“Potter…”

Michael dragged a tired hand across his face. If there was a problem at Wayland’s, it was always Potter. But while he was a bumbling, inattentive fool, he was a kind bumbling, inattentive fool. And Michael had a soft heart—no matter how much he protested the contrary.

“How are we going to cover this?” he asked. “Her reputation will be in tatters.”

“Oh, he didn’t accuse her of being a lady. Beaumont accused him of being a cheat,” Augie clarified.

Laughter escaped Michael and me at the same time. From afar, in the dim light of the hall, she could be mistaken for a gentleman. But now, in front of us, she was every bit a lady. It was in her carriage, her movements, her heart-shaped face and delicate rose complexion.

“Where is the daft fool?” Michael asked.

“Wearing a hole in my rug,” Augie said. “He’s refusing to pay her.”

“How much did he lose?”

“He didn’t lose. I won ,” Lady Davina insisted.

“It’s a fair point,” I added.

“You, hush or go home,” Michael scolded. I hushed as I had no interest in returning home now. “How much?” he asked.

“Three,” Augie said.

“Three pounds?” I tipped my glass toward her in a toast.

“Three thousand pounds.”

The scotch caught in my throat, slid into my lung, and burned there until I coughed it up.

“No wonder he’s refusing to pay. He doesn’t have it,” Michael said. “Did he know who you were? Or that you were a lady?”

“No,” Lady Davina insisted. “I spoke like this,” she added in a feigned masculine growl.

I managed to bite back my laugh. Michael wasn’t so successful. Lady Davina huffed as she yanked her wig off in a fit of irritation and flung it onto Michael’s desk in a spray of white powder.

Michael apologized between what could only be described as giggles. “Augie, pay her from house funds. We’ll sort it out with Beaumont later.”

The man nodded, plucked a key from his pocket, and slipped into the hall.

“You’re going to pay me?”

“Of course. You won. You claim you played fair. None of my dunners saw anything questionable. Though it is something of a concern, frankly, that they didn’t notice your gender. But I’d pay any gentleman in such a situation. Why would I not pay you?”

“Because I’m a woman...”

“Honestly, I adore it when anyone beats Beaumont. That it was a lady, and a titled one at that, makes it all the better. If I thought it wouldn’t cause more problems, I’d have you in all the time.”

“You do not care?” she asked.

“I care in as much that your reputation is at stake. And that I’ve caused your brother enough problems to last a lifetime already. But… Shall I tell you a secret?”

She nodded and stepped forward eagerly.

“Cee is an exceptional hazard player as well.”

Her eyes widened, excited. “Cee came here too? When?”

I watched as the realization washed over my brother. His eyes widened and his lips parted as he tried to work out an appropriate explanation for why her sister-in-law spent time in the club. The actual explanation was far too scandalous for a lady, after all.

“Rycliffe—your brother—he taught her to play here,” I supplied. I owed Michael tonight. And it would be a shame if Xander was forced to call Michael out before he got to meet his child.

Augie slipped back inside before Lady Davina could ask follow-up questions. Her gaze held none of the intrigue from before my explanation, so it was possible she believed it. Or at least wouldn’t examine the details too closely. Her brother had almost certainly passed well before Michael built the club if my math was correct.

“Here,” Augie said, thrusting a bank draft at her.

“This is too much,” she protested. “I only won three.”

“I like watching Beaumont lose,” Augie replied. “Now, I need to get home to Anna and Emma.”

“Right, and we need to get her home as well,” Michael added.

“I’m right here. And Mr. Summers always sorts these things out,” Lady Davina said.

“It’s already sorted,” Michael protested.

“But… When I have a problem on one of my adventures, he fixes it.” It was a fact to her, that much was clear. Whenever she got into mischief, Kit was there to solve it. I had to catch my lower lip between my teeth. Apparently she had no idea what to do when the mischief sorted itself.

Michael caught the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Augie? Would you have time to stop by Hasket House and alert Rosehill to the situation before you go home?”

He agreed, gestured toward the door with a thumb, and made his way from the room.

“Rycliffe Place,” Lady Davina called after him, correcting my brother.

I caught the edge of Augie’s nod before he shut the door behind him. It was only when the latch clicked that I recognized my missed opportunity. I could have been the one to alert Xander. I could have been the hero. But I was too distracted by the absurd situation.

“All right. Let me see if I can find a maid to act as chaperone,” Michael said, then followed his friend out.

“I do not need a chaperone,” Lady Davina said to the closed door. “I do not need a chaperone,” she repeated to me. I rather thought trapping me in here with her was more improper than the lack of chaperonage. But I’d had more glasses of scotch than I could count, hadn’t slept a wink, and couldn’t bring myself to care overmuch. After all, her presence in this building, in such attire… If anyone found out, her reputation was in ruins whether she was in a closed office with me or not.

“Let him fuss. He still feels poorly about what happened between Jules and your brother.”

She hummed, disinterested in the explanation. Instead, she grabbed my nearly empty glass and raised it to her lips. Her eyes caught mine and held them. Only when she was sure of my attention, did she tip the glass back, finishing the drink. She swallowed, then dipped her tongue out to catch a wayward drop of scotch.

It was an effort designed to entice. And were I anyone else, it probably would have worked. I let my gaze drop back to the desk.

Then I felt the brush of fine fabric against my wrist. I turned to face her as she made to sit on the arm of the chair. I shot up, backing away from the chair.

I scrambled for the drink cart and rolled it between us. There, I tipped a heavy pour of scotch into a new glass and downed it in one swallow.

From her perch on the arm of the chair, Lady Davina studied me. Her head tilted questioningly.

Before either of us could speak, Michael returned with no maid in tow. “They’re all off until a more reasonable hour. We’ll have to risk it. Gather your things. We’ll leave out the back entrance.”

“But Mr. Summers…” she protested.

“We’re going to Mr. Summers. I need to discuss what to do with Beaumont anyway.”

“Oh, all right then,” Lady Davina replied, more agreeable than she had been all evening. She pulled the neck of her shirt back and tucked the bank note into some undergarment I wasn’t interested in considering too closely. Then she snatched the wig off the desk, and another cloud of old wig powder settled atop the wood.

Without being asked, I followed them from the room. If they were going to Kit’s, then that was where Rosehill would be. And, pathetic though it might have been, I wasn’t about to miss the chance to see him again.