Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“What do we have here?” one of the men asked, his smile charming, but the glint in his eyes made Sibyl’s insides wither. “Are you a little lost, lady?”
The Spindle was a notorious gaming hell, and one Sibyl had heard her husband mention several times. Edmund rarely left London, so she knew he could not be far, and perhaps that was what annoyed her less.
If he was not far, then was it such a challenge to return home after four days?
Inside, the main hall was crowded with men who threw down their cards, rowdily shouted about their bets and claims of winning, and accused their opponents of cheating. Sibyl felt quite overwhelmed by the sight.
The ceiling went high, gilded and golden above her. Around the room, balconies on higher levels offered patrons a spot to watch from high above. Sibyl had also spotted curtains that gave privacy.
She had known some gaming hells offered further indulgences beyond gambling, so she had quickly averted her gaze. Instead, she had assessed the nearest tables, aware that she was a lady and that she stood alone.
How out of place she must have appeared, if the side glances she received from the gamblers around her were any indication.
But Rosie needed security, and Sibyl had to protect her. That meant finding Edmund, or a lead on Edmund, in this crowded place.
The room was circular, with the aisle winding around tables and leading up to the main staircase at the far end. Sibyl had veered right and approached a table. At once, the four men sitting there had looked up. She hated how their curiosity had turned to lingering stares as they sized her up.
She had to bite back her irritation. They would not know she was the Countess of Kerrington, but their casual tones grated on her.
She had endured her mother’s matchmaking schemes to secure that title, had given up her dreams for it. But now, she understood that she needed the disguise.
“No,” she answered now, softening her voice. “I am looking for somebody.”
“Oh?” One of the other men, whom she recognized as Lord Benjamin from the many balls she had attended over her Seasons, smiled with interest.
Her breath caught as his eyes roved over her face.
She hurriedly turned her face away, pretending to be interested in another game, but she had to keep herself hidden. Then again, men spoke to so many ladies, and Sibyl had never stood out in a crowd, so she imagined he did not remember her as well as she recalled him.
“I am well-acquainted in this hall,” Lord Benjamin told her. “Who do you seek? I am certain we can look together very thoroughly. There are plenty of backrooms in this establishment, and you would look very fine beneath the lights in them.”
Despite herself, Sibyl blushed at the flirtation. Still, she could not forget her purpose for coming here.
“I am looking for Lord Kerrington,” she said, relieved by the recognition on their faces. “I am… I am seeking employment and was told he conducts meetings here. It is a small chance, but I thought I could catch him.”
“That is true, and rumors do have it that he has not been seen at his townhouse in a few days,” Lord Benjamin mused. “Indeed, he usually frequents these halls.”
“Have you seen him tonight?” Hope rose in her chest.
Alas, Lord Benjamin shook his head, his mouth turning down. “No, but if you do manage to catch him, send him my way. The man owes me for our last card game.”
“I will. Thank you.” Sibyl nodded and hurried away from the table, wary of the first man’s gaze, even if Lord Benjamin’s drifted away once he realized her disinterest.
She moved from table to table. Some men outright ignored her, too focused on winning more money, while others stared at her for too long, making her feel uncomfortable.
What would Isabella have done?
Before her marriage to Oscar Guildeford, Isabella would have had this whole room wrapped around her finger with her wit, extracting every answer she sought.
Sibyl was not finely-equipped with words, but she pressed on; she could not afford to give up.
When she stopped by a table occupied by a couple of barons that she recognized but couldn’t remember all their names, she steeled herself once more and got right to the point.
“Gentlemen. I am searching for Lord Kerrington,” she announced. “Do you know his whereabouts?”
“Half of London wants to know his whereabouts,” one baron snorted dismissively. But then he turned, looked a little harder at her, and his smile sharpened. “Why are you here all alone, little lady? This is no place for you. Do you need a chaperone, perhaps? I know many… secret, secure spots.”
Once again, Sibyl’s chest tightened, her mind batting away memories of Lord Grenford and the spot where he had put his hands on her.
She shook her head. “Never mind. Thank you.”
She hurried on, only to be snagged by her wrist. Stiffening, she turned back to find herself facing the other baron.
“I have seen him,” he declared. “He was with a woman last night.” He nodded towards one of the balconies with a harsh smirk. “Right up there, proud as anything. Likely his mistress. Why do you seek him?”
Likely his mistress.
Could her concerns have been legitimate, then?
She did not care if her husband wished to take half of the female population of London to bed, but he could not just up and leave her uncertain of her own security. He should not have put her through the shame.
While she had spent her marriage performing her wifely duties, it seemed her husband was not willing to grant the same courtesy.
Her jaw tight, she answered, “Thank you for the information.”
Offering no further explanation, she swept away from the table, only to be stopped halfway down the aisle that led to the staircase.
Tilting her head back, she found herself facing a burly man, as thick and as tall as a door. His face was twisted into a stoic, displeased sneer.
“I do not know who you are or why you are here, but I will ask you to leave only once, for you are pestering my customers,” he growled.
The room fell silent around her. Cards were placed down, coins clinked in a pause to listen, and her face flamed in embarrassment.
She froze. “I…”
“I am the manager of the Spindle,” the man spoke over her. “And you are being a nuisance.”
Around her, some men pretended to continue playing rather than admit they were eavesdropping. But then footsteps came up behind her.
She tensed, feeling a presence at her back.
“I believe you ought to leave Miss Mary alone, Mr. Heggerty. Surely your reputation will not fare well when gossip spreads about you harassing a lone woman in public.”
Sibyl almost collapsed at the sound of the Duke of Stonehelm’s voice.
He had found her. But how?
Her stomach sank to her feet, and she slowly turned around, finding his blazing, hard gaze on her.
“Mary.” He offered his hand, not to take but to pull her away from the manager.
Mary?
She frowned, only to realize that he had deliberately hidden her identity.
His eyes flicked back to the manager. “Mary is one of my maids. I sent her here to deliver a message, which she has done. So let her be, Mr. Heggerty.”
“Well, she has been—”
“I understand, and she will be reprimanded.” The Duke’s voice lowered so the patrons could not hear.
Still, Sibyl felt the burn of shame when he glared at her in silent warning. Whether it was because she would be reprimanded for sneaking out to search for her husband alone or because she should play along, she didn’t know.
“Here.” The Duke dug into his coat pocket and tossed Mr. Heggerty a handful of banknotes, which the man caught with ease. “For your trouble.”
At that, the manager’s face brightened, and his sneer turned into a pleasant smile. “Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace. We’ll be very happy to see you back at our establishment.”
With that, Sibyl’s wrist was grabbed discreetly but not painfully, and she was guided out of the Spindle.
As soon as the fresh night air hit her face, she whirled back to the door. “I must—”
The next thing she knew, she was being pulled into an alley next to the gaming hell, her back hitting the stone wall.
The Duke loomed over her, his eyes dark in the dim light. Fear rose in her chest, too nauseating to think for a moment.
“What kind of fool do you take me for?” he hissed. “You snuck out alone. You deceived me. You risked getting discovered here, of all places.” His words came hard and fast. “Do you know what kind of men frequent these gaming hells? You were not safe in there tonight.”
She thought back to the offers she had received earlier, the men eager to look for Edmund with her, and shuddered. Still, her resolve did not waver.
“What other choice did I have?” she snapped. “I do not know you, yet you turned up on my doorstep, demanding to stay! I do not owe you an explanation, Your Grace, and I was managing in there—”
“You were being eyed up like a damned prize horse,” he snarled.
Sibyl’s breath caught. “I could have handled it on my own.”
“I know men’s intentions. I know what they were thinking when they looked at you like that.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It was stupid of you.”
“You do not get to insult me,” Sibyl hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest before she thought better of it. “And, as a matter of fact, you had no right to follow me either.”
“You lied to me,” he accused. “For a woman who called me a vulture, you have lied to me. You knew exactly where to start looking for your husband.”
“I had an inkling,” she admitted defensively. “But I only came here for more answers. Answers I do not owe you.”
“You are reckless.” The Duke’s jaw was tight enough to cut. “You were not thinking rationally before coming here.”