Chapter 15
Caroline had gone extremely quiet, Gervaise noticed, as they waited in the hallway for Kenneth to fetch the kittens from the kitchen.
James had run down the street to find a cab and Macey was helping Caroline on with her cloak.
The old dodderer had nearly fallen over when he had heard they were married.
He looked like he might cry now, seeing her thrown out of doors.
“Thank you so much,” she said brightly, and Macey bowed his head sorrowfully, retreating.
“The poor old thing,” she said under her breath. “I do believe he’s more upset than your uncle.”
“Macey has a very strong sense of family feeling. He was my grandfather’s butler before he was my uncle’s. No doubt it revolts his every feeling that we are expelled from the Langdon town residence into the cold night.”
She sent him a reproachful look. “It’s a shame he had to overhear you,” she whispered. “He’s been so needlessly upset over nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“Well, I am not Lady Atherton, so he need not be so put out on my account.”
Gervaise shrugged. “You may well end up having to marry me,” he said flippantly. “Our tale has become so tangled by this point.” Now why had he said that? He watched her out of the corner of his eye.
Caroline scoffed. “I hardly think it will come to that, my lord. What do we do now?” she asked pragmatically. “Go to a hotel?”
He wondered if she would expect separate rooms. “No,” he ruminated. “No, I think we will toddle along to Gerwyn Street.”
“What’s at Gerwyn Street?”
“My palace.”
“I’m sorry, did you say palace?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s called The Citadel.”
“But I thought you had no residence.”
“It’s not a residence,” he corrected her. “It is my latest business venture. It opens in a month’s time.”
Caroline opened her mouth to form another question but at that point, Kenneth appeared carrying the cats. “Milady,” he intoned gravely, passing them over to her, not the easiest feat as Romulus sank his claws into the epaulettes on his frock coat.
“Thank you,” Caroline said once he had endeavored to detach himself. Remus immediately tried to scramble up onto her shoulder. “I think we may need to obtain some kind of basket for their transportation, you know.”
We, Gervaise noted with satisfaction. Had Miss Halperston accepted dual ownership of the cats with him? “I think some kind of harnesses with leashes might be more aesthetically pleasing,” he mused.
“Leashes? For cats?” She seemed surprised. “I have never heard of such a thing. In any case, I don’t think they would like that at all.”
“Don’t you think so?” She shook her head. “Ah, I think the cab is here.” Kenneth picked up the cases and they made their way down the steps. “Gerwyn Street,” he called up to the cabbie as soon as they were safely inside.
It only took about ten minutes to reach their destination, and as they approached, Gervaise found himself anticipating his first glimpse of the finished building.
Last time he had seen The Citadel it had been a mere shell and a sheaf of architectural sketches.
This time it would be a showy spectacle of a place, complete with columns and an ornate facade.
“Come here,” he murmured, indicating the gin palace would be on his side of the road.
“That way you will get the full effect.”
“Well, I can’t really get any closer,” Caroline pointed out, for the hansom cab was a two-seater and his luggage took up most of the floor. She also had a firm hold of both cats.
“Yes, you can,” he said, patting his lap. “You can take a seat right here.”
She spluttered faintly but rose from the seat and Gervaise guided her down into his lap until she perched herself gingerly there. Gervaise suddenly found himself more interested in the color rising to her cheeks than his first glimpse of The Citadel out of the window.
Caroline gasped. “Is that it?” she breathed, and he turned his head to spot the soaring frontage of the ostentatious building with its gables and domes and pedimented dormers standing out from the drabness of its fellow buildings like a diamond in the rough.
“That is your palace? Gervaise, it is magnificent!”
He was somewhat taken aback to see it lit up against its fellow establishments like a glowing lamp in the darkness.
He could only suppose Ralph must be trialing the new gas lamps, for they were not due to open for another three weeks.
“It’s not solely mine, I own it jointly with a friend and fellow investor, Ralph Carstairs. ”
“It looks so pretty, like a magic lantern,” Caroline marveled, practically pressing her nose against the glass.
He spared it another glance. “It’s all the bow windows giving that effect. It’s a lot of glass.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s a gin palace,” Gervaise explained.
“A what?” She turned her head to look at him.
“A gin palace. We aim to bring the luxury of an exclusive gentleman’s club to the masses.”
“A gentleman’s club?” she echoed.
“With all the fittings and fixtures. No expense spared.”
“And anyone can be admitted through your doors?”
“Any paying customer,” he agreed.
“Men or women?” she persisted. He nodded. “Rich or poor?”
“Precisely.”
Caroline tipped her head. “I’ve never been inside a gentleman’s club,” she observed.
“You don’t say.”
Her smile flashed out. “What are they like?”
“Want to find out?”
She nodded, eyes gleaming. “Yes, please, Gervaise.” Her enthusiasm amused him. Whoever would have thought that Miss Halperston would be so intrigued about such things?
He rapped the roof of the cab. “Set us down here, driver.”
“This place ain’t open yet, guv,” the cabbie protested. “And they ain’t offering room and board from what I’ve heard.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Gervaise responded. “We know the owners.” The cab halted and they clambered out, passing cases and kittens between the two of them until they stood on the pavement outside the lit-up gin palace.
Gervaise knocked vigorously on the door. “Ralph! Are you in there? Let us in.”
A hulking brute appeared in the doorway, in shirtsleeves with his collar open at his thick neck. “Sling your ’ook,” he said contemptuously. “We ain’t open yet.”
He felt Caroline shrink into his side. “Who the hell are you?” Gervaise asked loudly, looking him and down. No doubt one of Ralph’s less reputable acquaintances. He looked like an ugly customer, truth to tell. “Where’s Carstairs?”
The other man paused, his oddly colorless eyes passing over him. “You know the boss?” he asked.
“You could say that.”
“Gervaise?” an excited voice hailed him. “Is that you? At last! Out of the way, Jeb. This is my partner and co-owner, Lord Atherton.”
Jeb fell back at once, hands raised. “No offence intended, I’m sure.”
Gervaise swept past him, towing Caroline, still clutching the cats. “Make yourself useful and fetch our bags in,” he said dismissively. The other man’s eyes narrowed but he stepped outside to fetch their luggage all the same.
“How are you, Ralph?” Gervaise asked as his friend hurried over to catch his hand in his, pumping it enthusiastically up and down. “It’s been months.”
“Indeed, it has,” Ralph agreed. “Too long! You’ll see things have changed a good deal.” His chest swelled with pride, and he flung out an arm in an expansive gesture.
Gervaise spared the large room a sweeping glance and frowned.
He had expected it to be smart but not to see luxury on this scale.
Everywhere he looked were glazed tiles, etched mirrors, and stained glass.
No wonder Ralph had needed to take on an additional investor. He had clearly gone way over budget.
Ralph, he noticed, was now gazing at Caroline with a faint pucker between his brows.
Gervaise turned abruptly away from contemplating the interior to introduce her.
“This is my companion,” he said smoothly, and then hesitated.
“Miss—er—Pomfrey. Caroline, this is my old friend Ralph Carstairs. He and I own The Citadel together.”
Ralph extended a hand and pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Miss Pomfrey,” he said, peering at her. “Pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Gervaise’s and all that.”
Caroline shook his hand. “I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Carstairs, and so very intrigued about this place.”
“Ah, The Citadel?” Ralph said, his eyes lighting up like a fanatic. “Like it, do you?”
“I do, and what’s more, I’m desperate to see the rest of it.”
“Oh, well, I can give you the tour at once,” he answered keenly.
“Do you mind if I set the cats down?”
“Cats?” Ralph peered at her with even more closely and Gervaise felt strangely…
proprietary. He moved rather closer to Caroline.
“Oh, I say, cats!” Ralph exclaimed. “I thought they were your furs! Feel free to set them down. You need not worry for their paws, this floor is covered in the finest marble tiles,” he boasted.
Gervaise glanced down at the flooring. The room was huge. The cost would have been extortionate.
“I’ve simply heaps to show you, Gervaise,” Ralph continued, watching Caroline as she set the cats down on the floor. “Did you get my letter?”
“Eventually,” Gervaise admitted cautiously. “But it bounced around a few times before it reached me. I could not make out much of what you had written. Your pen nib seemed to have exploded on the second page and the rest of it was smudged to oblivion.”
“Oh, er, ha-ha,” Ralph responded nervously. “I was under duress at the time. Mounting costs, don’t you know. I was up against it, if you must know, old chap, and you weren’t around, so I was at my wit’s end where to turn.”
“Yes, I gathered that much,” Gervaise responded dryly. “You said something about taking on a third partner, I think? The letter ended rather abruptly at this point if memory serves.”
Ralph looked evasive. His eyes followed the kittens as they crept about the floor. “Yes, er, interesting fellow. Brought along some useful connections with him. Prizefighters, and all that.”
“A prizefighter?” Gervaise echoed with misgiving. “Not that brute at the front door?”
“No, no, not him. Though you’re quite right, Jeb’s one too, though no money to speak of, poor chap. He’s acting as one of our doormen. No, our partner’s a sight more civilized than Morris, I can assure you of that! It’s one Bartholomew Ewell. Ever heard of him?”
Gervaise withdrew his cigarette case. “Yes, I rather think I have,” he said slowly. “I saw him fight at Wimbledon common last year. He surprised a few people when he beat that bareknuckle champion, Masterman.”
“Oh, he’s plenty of pepper and vim about him,” Ralph agreed. “Not a big fellow like Jeb, but you underestimate him at your peril. He’s beaten the best of them. Made a fortune. A fortune he’s been willing to invest in this place, thank God, for I ran out of money months ago.”
“So, now he’s our business partner,” Gervaise observed blandly as he placed a cigarette between his lips.
He was angry but there was no point in crying over spilt milk.
After all, Ewell was on board now, there was precious little he could do about it at this stage of the game.
“You had better give us this tour, Ralph.”
Ralph was gazing distractedly at the pile of Gervaise’s luggage and Caroline’s sole carpet bag sat on top of it.
“You need somewhere to stay, old man? There’s rooms here if you need them.
Tolerably comfortable, they are too. I was staying in them in the early days but I’m back at my digs now the work’s most done. ”
Gervaise looked wordlessly at Caroline but she avoided his eye. “They’re on the top floor,” Ralph specified. “I’ll show you them at the end of the tour.”