Chapter Eighteen
Selena lay on the sofa in the library, her gaze remained locked onto the arms ticking in her pocket watch—three seconds past noon. Theodosia must be departing by now.
No betting book.
No ties cut.
Although, it would appear that the ties had been cut—again—from Warrick’s side. She hadn’t heard anything of him in two days. Oddly, her brother hadn’t shown his detestable face either. Had they dueled again and shot each other to death?
No, she would have gotten word by now.
Her gaze flicked to the crumpled note on the floor, the one that contained the date and time to meet that cloak woman with the grating voice. It had arrived this morning. She ought to have been elated at the invite. Giddiness should have invaded all her pores. Violins should have struck up a sweet tune in her head.
Why did she need to join a club to find herself anyway?
It’s a super-secret club of women.
Yes, but it wasn’t that secret anymore. It hadn’t been a true secret the moment she herself had discovered them. Now her friends knew. And Warrick. The secret element didn’t hold as much of an appeal anymore. Plus, they’d only invited her because they wanted something. Once again, she was overlooked as a person, seen only for her connections and what she could provide.
And that woman was one of them.
Who did she want to be anyway other than Saville’s sister, heiress, lady? Wife? Spinster? Pariah?
Lady adventurer would be nice.Lady rebel had an interesting ring to it as well.
Selena sighed.
Lady Lazing Lazily was her title of today.
Her gaze fell on a cabinet opposite her. A bottle of golden liquor shone like a beacon through the glass pane. Was brandy not Warrick’s preferred method for receiving peace? Selena could do with a touch of that—peace of mind.
Or the reawakening of her inner composure.
She rose and padded over to retrieve the bottle. Saville enjoyed his drink, just like Warrick. She wondered when he ever drank in the library. Her brother was much like her—he didn’t read. With one exception: the papers.
He loved the gossip rags more than the busybodies of the ton. Come to think of it, Saville was one of the busybodies of the ton.
She uncorked the bottle and took a swallow without bothering with a glass, wandering back to the sofa, patting her chest as a trail burned from her mouth to her gut, holding back the urge to cough.
Lord, it was strong.
Did all brandy claim a person’s breath like this? This was not peace.
But she took several sips more just to be sure and felt her mind begin to change on the subject.
This is not peace—this is life.
This was the sort of burn that could trail across all you believed to be true and turn the world to chaos and ash. But once that burning settled, the universe danced at your fingertips.
Selena let out a small laugh. Theodosia would give her the evil eye if that thought ever became known. She wiggled her fingers, sliding into a reclining position, swallowing another, smaller sip. Beer did, however, taste better. No contest.
A knock at the threshold bounced off the spines of the books in the library and echoed in her ears. “My lady?”
Selena strained her neck to peer over the sofa and settled down again. “What is it, Miles? Has my brother finally shown his face? Show him to his waistcoats.”
“No, my lady. The Duke of Mortimer has requested an audience with you.”
Selena bolted up right, bottle clutched to her breast. “The Duke of Mortimer?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Interesting.
“Are you sure it’s not someone impersonating the duke?”
“I am sure, my lady.”
What business would the duke have with her?
The book.
Right, of course. She fell back down onto the pillows stacked at her back. The only reason anyone approached her—that cursed book.
She waved a hand in the air. “Show him in. Don’t bring tea.”
“Very well, my lady.”
The solid click of footsteps approached, paused, and then continued until it stopped before the couch.
“Lady Selena.”
Selena glanced over to the man but did not bother to rise. “Duke. Take a seat.”
He stared at her a moment before lowering himself down into a chair. His gaze shifted to the bottle then back to her. “You seem to be going through a patch of difficulty, my lady.”
“A patch.” She reluctantly rose from slouching to a little less slouching. The man was a duke after all. He deserved some form of courtesy. “What brings a duke to our humble home?”
“Your brother.”
A twist. “Saville is out and about.”
“Warrick?”
More of a twist? “Should you not call on his residence if you desire an audience with the earl?”
He leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “Lady Selena, I’ll be frank. Have you been searching for a club with a crest of roses and a sword?”
So, he knew, too. Why did she not find that surprising? She would not bother to deny it. At this point, nothing could astonish her anymore. Confuse her, yes, but not stun her. “You are quite impressive, Duke. You even know this much.”
“I saw you at The Rose.”
It took a moment for his words to sink through all the sips of brandy and connect to the alehouse she’d visited. “You were there?” Then it dawned on her. “The mysterious man in the corner with a cap on his head.”
One single nod to confirm.
“I thought there was something familiar about you. Why were you there? Were you following me, too?”
“No.” He sat back and crossed one leg over the other. “I’ve been investigating that club for some time.”
“Aren’t you also searching for the betting book?” The last words slurred a bit, which caught Selena off guard. Was she a bit foxed?
“Is the book in your possession?” Mortimer asked.
“No.” Selena shuffled into a more upright seating position. “Not anymore.”
He stared at her.
“What is with that gaze, Duke?”
“You are the first heiress to provide me that much information.”
She nodded slowly. “I am an heiress.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, a faint hint of a smile. “You are.”
Her head fell back onto the rest of the sofa. “I want to be more.”
“Then be more,” the duke said. “Why can you not be? You seem to be more already.”
Selena shifted her gaze to Mortimer. “Very well, Duke. Let us both be frank. This club is rather elusive.” She took another small sip. “They want the book as well.”
He sat up straight. “They reached out to you?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Am I the only person in London who cannot fathom why I, and any other of the heiresses, did not receive an invitation to this secret club as soon as our scandal broke? They have been using it, after all. Why not include us?”
“You are still more pure than they are, Lady Selena. This is not an organization you can compare against White’s as a social organization. This is one that operates in the shadows. You yourself said you find it strange, given all the chaos perpetrated at your hands, why you’ve not been invited.”
“They must have their reasons.”
“Then, did you even wonder at the sort of women that are members of this club?”
“Ladies. Free spirits. Women of the future.” That woman.
“Ladies, yes. But dangerous ones. With illegal business dealings.”
Truly? “Well now you want to make me join them more.”
“Forgive me for pointing this out,” he cocked his head, studying her, “but you do not look like you mean to join them.”
She blinked. “I don’t?”
“Your posture speaks of dejection. You did not bother to put on shoes. And this robe...” His observations turned speculative. “Is it your brother’s?”
Selena’s head snapped down.
Dear God. Was she still wearing Warrick’s robe? She sniffed at the neckline. His scent had already disappeared.
“This is my house clothing.”
The duke did not comment on it further. Instead, he went on, “Lady Selena, these women operate in the shadows for a reason. I cannot explain it clearly since part of the puzzle still eludes me and I’m inclined to avoid premature assumptions, but no good will come from giving them the book.”
“Very well, very well.” She pointed at the crumpled note. “An hour has passed since I was to meet them.”
The duke’s brows knit together, and he picked up the scrap. “This is helpful.”
“Go on ahead.” Selena plopped back down. “Tell them you are my answer to their demands.”
“I am aware that this is none of my business, Lady Selena, but I’ve learned, in a world full of wretched beings—people with dubious intentions whose actions howl louder than your own thoughts—all you can do is trust your gut.”
She sighed. “What is there to trust? My gut drove me to find and join this group.”
“But you did not.”
“Only because their second half of my membership fee was a bit too steep.”
“Allow yourself to acknowledge your worth a little more, my lady. And then dance to the tune that moves you—and that tune alone. You don’t need to change to prove anything if you do not wish to. After all, what is that but another version of allowing the opinions of others to dictate how you view yourself and what you do? You can simply stay as you are.”
“As I am? Are you sure? I’ve been called the princess of trouble, you know?”
“Amongst other things,” he agreed. “A person never carries just one title. If you are the princess of trouble, perhaps you should find your prince of trouble.”
Selena scowled at the man. “Is that your indirect way of suggesting I get married?”
A chuckle. “I never mentioned marriage.”
Such a sly man. If not marriage, then did he mean a scandalous relationship? Surely not. But...
She already had one.
She narrowed her eyes on the duke. Did he know about her and Warrick? It wouldn’t come as a shock.
A footman knocked on the door. “My lady, excuse me for intruding.”
“What is it now, Miles?”
“A note arrived for your ladyship. The person who delivered it said it was a matter of grave importance.”
She motioned the footman over and accepted the note, breaking the seal and removing a card with a single sentence scrawled at the center.
Bring the betting book in exchange for your Earl ofWarrick.
She flipped the card over. On the back, a time, location, and that annoying crest mocked her.
“Is something amiss?”
“Duke, I’m not sure if my eyes are deceiving me. Would you please read this note aloud?” She handed him the scrap of paper.
“Bring the betting book,” the duke paused, “in exchange for your earl.” His eyes lifted to meet hers. “Warrick.”
“So I’m not mistaken.” She shot upright. “I cannot believe they would go this far!”
“I will deal with this.”
Selena leaped from the sofa, placing the liquor on the side table. “I will come, too.”
He rose as well. “Lady—”
“I shall come whether you take me with you or not.” Her chin rose. “And if you leave be behind, who is to say I won’t accidentally thwart your strategy if I act alone?”
Silence. His gaze swept over her robe and then the half-full bottle.
She straightened her back. “Besides, I’ve dealt before with the woman who sent this note. You haven’t. Trust me, Duke, you need me.”
“Very well, but the moment danger presents itself, you leave.”
Of course not! “What danger could possibly present itself?”
“According to my findings, I believe this organization is the most dangerous smuggling group in all of England.”
They were . . . what?
*
“My arse hurts.”
Warrick shifted in the chair. How many hours had it been? It was impossible to keep count since at some point they had both nodded off.
He tested the tightness of his bindings. They weren’t as tight this time. After Lady Ridgeland left them, the man with the scar on his face had stayed behind, so he could only stealthily attempt to loosen the rope that bound wrists. But even that hope was thwarted. They weren’t total lunatics. Their captors had allowed them to do the necessary, but that meant each time the bindings were replaced they were rebound just as tightly as before.
Though the man wasn’t in the room at the moment.
“Mine too.” Saville rolled his neck. “We have been severely mistreated.”
“Your sister...” Warrick trailed off. He didn’t know how to express how he was feeling.
Saville understood. “We wouldn’t still be here if she’d agreed to their conditions.”
But did that mean she didn’t? Wouldn’t? Where they were in relation to the exact deadline remained uncertain, and he still worried he would be cast aside. Hah. Like a dirty cloth.
Warrick paused, noticing a familiar cravat on the floor. He gazed down at his gaping shirt. “Why the hell is my shirt open?”
“That crazy bat came in the middle of the night and removed your cravat, murmuring that you would be more comfortable without it. At least that is my vague recollection. You were deep in the land of nod.” Saville lowered his chin to his chest. “I’m insulted. Why not remove my cravat too?”
Damn Lady Ridgeland.Who did she think he was?
“Am I being punished or am I cursed?” he muttered. “It’s hard to tell at this point.”
“Both, old chap. Both.”
Warrick shot a glare at Saville, who taunted him back with a smirk.
“But it’s not all that bad,” Saville said, his eyes glinting. “What’s wrong with a bit of skin?”
Warrick flinched at the reminder of their little intervention. “Well said.”
Saville chuckled.
Warrick motioned to a stool in the corner. “How long as he been gone?”
“Not sure. He was gone when I woke up.”
Warrick strained and wriggled against his bindings. They weren’t as tight this time. “We need to get out of place.”
“Would it be too much to ask for sustenance? My head is killing me. The behemoth could at least stuff some food in our faces after we relieve ourselves. They let us do that but not eat? Or drink? I could kill for a sip of anything right about now.”
“It’s worse because we had brandy.” Warrick said. But with his mind clearer and his belly aching, his determination to leave this godforsaken place nearly exploded from his body in a surge of impatience. Even if he had to lose an arm, he would leave here today. “It’s unlike them to leave us alone.”
“Perhaps they are preparing food for us. They cannot let us starve.”
“We’d be lucky if we were tossed a scrap of meat,” Warrick muttered. He wriggled his wrists again. Since no one was keeping watch over them, if ever a chance was presented to escape, this was it. “I’m breaking free of this rope.”
“I’d love to help, but my arm has gone numb. Sorry, old chap, you are on your own.”
Warrick cast his friend a worried look. “How are you feeling?”
“Other than discomfort, pain, and a newfound level of annoyance, I’m doing well.”
“That’s a relief.” A small mercy that his injury from the duel hadn’t been more serious. But it did mean that escaping would be up to him. He focused his mind on one singular goal: breaking fee. Beads of sweat formed on Warrick’s brow, and he strained against the damn rope. Every creak of the chair, every tug on the bond, urged him to strain a bit more.
“Christ, man, you’re going to pop a vein if you keep doing that.”
Warrick ignored him.
“We must look on the bright side, old chap. We shall be released soon.”
“If we are, that would mean your sister has joined their ranks.” And met their demands.
“I shall rake her over the coals after we leave this place,” Saville said simply, then muttered, “they better not set up a meeting in a damn brothel.”
“Unlikely. It will probably be the abandoned warehouse in Whitechapel.”
“Whitechapel?”
“That’s where Selena met Lady Ridgeland last time.”
“I beg your pardon?” Saville’s demanded. His voice turned to steel. “When the devil was this?”
“The day after you caught her at my house.”
“That day?” Saville let out a rather foul curse. “I locked her in her chamber, for saints’ sake.”
“Did you honestly believe that would work?” Warrick bit out as he strained a bit harder. “Your sister?”
“I had some hopes,” Saville muttered. “Futile hopes.”
“At least you are aware.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised, given all the secrets that you’ve been keeping from me.”
“This is your sister’s secret, not mine.”
“Well since you are sharing them, what other secrets have you been keeping for my sister? Since when has she been itching to join this club?”
Warrick relaxed his muscles, letting out a deep breath. He flexed his fingers. “I’m not sure.”
“But you still found out about this little plan of hers.”
Warrick sighed. Of all his friends, he’d have to be stuck with Saville. The head of nagging in their group. Where was the silent ghost from his foyer the other day? It seemed he had found rest and crossed over. “She told me the day of the Turkish trousers parade.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Selena was searching for a damn dangerous club the moment after you found out?”
“Have you forgotten?” Warrick challenged back. “I am the one you assigned to protect her.” He wanted to say more, vent his frustration, but he refrained. No good would come from tossing blame back and forth.
“Are you saying I should never have trusted you with my family?”
“I’m saying you should have protected your family yourself.” Warrick glanced at Saville. “But look on the bright side, old chap—it’s not too late to mend your wrongs.”
“I get it,” Saville ground out. “I am being punished alongside you.” A short silence ensued before he sighed, before begrudgingly admitting, “You are right. I shouldn’t have lobbed my responsibility onto you.”
“Apology accepted.” So long as they could go back to the way things were before the rift, Warrick didn’t even need an apology from Saville. Any resentment he might have felt had long since disappeared. Only gratefulness remained.
“It shouldn’t be this silent, should it?” Saville suddenly commented.
Warrick frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Are all brothels this quiet in the morning?”
As if summoned by the question, the door creaked open and the one woman Warrick never wanted to lay eyes on again waltzed into the room. Her again. She was followed by two women carrying trays in their hands.
“What happened to my shirt?” Warrick demanded even before Lady Ridgeland could part her lips to speak.
She smiled. “I thought you might be more comfortable. And if I am honest, I’ve fantasized about doing that for weeks. Even if it’s just a hint of skin, it’s a sight worth looking at.”
“Now I’m really insulted,” Saville muttered. “Is my chest not a sight worth looking at?”
Warrick shot her a glare. “Bedlam has a room for you, madam.”
She laughed. “In any event, your Lady Selena has made her choice. She did not show up for our meeting.”
Selena did not show?
Selena didn’t show.
The tension that had gripped his body slowly trickled out in a breath of relief. Did that mean she refused to cut ties with him? Perhaps she didn’t believe this vixen was his lover.
“I see you are quite pleased. Of course, this is not ideal,” Lady Ridgeland sauntered over to him and raked a finger over his chest. Distaste filled him. “Luckily for us, we have the two of you. So we sent her a missive to inform her that we have her beloved earl.”
He stilled.
Saville gave a very loud snort. “And if my sister misses that assignation, it means...” He grinned. “Well, who is to say what it means? What would happen then?”
Warrick blinked at his friend. His silent mockery had been just as loud as that exaggerated snort. His lips twitched.
“Then we would send news that we have her brother as well. That might do the trick, I believe. It would be rather shocking if she did not respond to her sibling being caught in our web as well.”
Loathsome woman.
“My sister won’t show because she won’t believe you have Warrick, and neither will she believe you have me.”
“Are you certain? You’ve been gone for two days.”
“Selena is smart.” Warrick squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, sending her a slight yet confident smile. “She won’t fall for your tricks. If she doesn’t show, it means she will not be blackmailed by you. She must have changed her mind about joining your mysterious little club. I wonder how the club will feel about your failure.”
Lady Ridgeland’s smile took on that syrupy—sickening—edge as she stepped up to grab his shirt with both her hands and yank, ripping it right down to his navel.
“What the hell are you doing?” Warrick roared.
She leaned in even closer. “I’m not in the best mood, Warrick dear. But looking at your body along with your face lined in anger will make me feel better in no time at all.”
“You better hope,” Warrick ground out between clenched teeth, “by the time I am free from these binds, you are not within my sight.”
I’ll drag you to Bedlam myself.