Chapter Five
After leaving the Brennan musicale, Greyson rode to Club Knight.
It was a large three-story townhouse, much like any other home on this street that bordered on fashionable London.
Greyson had been here many times before, but never inside the club rooms. He usually entered from the back and went down the stairs to a private, windowless room with two secret entrances.
A room where gentlemen loyal to the Crown met and planned.
A group of spies that didn’t report to the Home Office.
The Home Office didn’t know about them. At least, not yet they didn’t.
It was getting harder and harder to stay in the shadows and keep their existence secret.
They reported directly to the Prince Regent and had been formed at the conclusion of the last war with Napoleon.
But the organization wasn’t what brought him here tonight.
Tonight, he was a club member for the first time, and he would see the inside of these walls in a different light.
Greyson hesitated on the stoop, his heart pounding.
He stood to the side as several members came and went.
He chose to attend tonight because it was a regular night with gambling, billiards, and socializing.
No dancing or masquerade to contend with.
Perhaps his heart was pounding because he felt guilty.
Guilt for witnessing the disappointment on Letitia’s face, for never calling on her for two months.
What a complete idiot he was. Yes, he’d been busy and had gone out of town several times on assignment, but he could have sent a note.
Why hadn’t he? His stomach tightened. He didn’t deserve her.
That was partly why he stayed away. Working for Prinny as a Black Knight—yes, that was what they called themselves—was dangerous.
He didn’t know if he could court Letitia seriously or even marry her while endangering his life as a Black Knight.
Not to mention keeping watch over his mother and father and chaperoning his sisters.
It wouldn’t be fair to Letitia. He wouldn’t be able to give all of himself to her, which was what he always said he wanted when it came to marriage.
Tonight, he was going to indulge in cards.
Relax in an atmosphere where one could be oneself without worrying about ending up in the gossip rags.
Not that his name appeared in them often.
In fact, not in quite some time, thankfully.
Not since he had nearly found himself with the parson’s noose around his neck for stealing a kiss from Miss Emma Honeysuckle when he was all of twenty years old.
How could he not kiss her with a name like Honeysuckle?
His idiot friends, Stanton and Hunter, had dared him to kiss her.
He had almost not escaped that one. But those days of being a rake and stealing hearts were over for him.
Debutantes didn’t interest him anymore. There was too much to lose if one wasn’t careful.
He would prefer to marry for love, not because a pistol was being held to his head.
Even so, the lady marrying him would have to understand his past, value his present, and accept his future.
He worked hard to keep his private affairs secret, even from his two closest friends.
There were times when it was difficult. Right after Letitia left Newmarket for London, he went on assignment for a sennight.
It hadn’t been easy to make Stanton, Hunter, and his sisters understand why he had to leave.
Thankfully, Clarice, now the Duchess of Stanton, had chaperoned Anastasia and Aurora during his absence.
The harsh words exchanged with Stanton and Hunter weren’t easy to swallow.
Goodness knew what they thought at the time.
Not to mention the fact that it wasn’t the first time he’d bailed on them.
Every time he left in a hurry, he witnessed the disappointment in their eyes.
His body, his mind, and his soul were tired, and he needed an escape.
All of this led him to Club Knight, a place where you could have a tryst between two willing partners, and the knowledge would never leave the club.
Perhaps if he hadn’t met Letitia, he might have visited those rooms on the upper floor.
However, his days of rendezvous were over, even if he couldn’t have her.
His escape that night would have to be in the form of card play.
After opening and closing the door several times, the doorman finally said, “Are you coming in?”
Greyson stared at the card in his hand, embossed with the word Knight. Nothing like hiding in plain sight. He handed it to the doorman, who flipped it over, no doubt to inspect it and make sure it was authentic.
“Welcome. The usual rules apply tonight.”
He took the card back and put it in his jacket pocket, then stepped into the foyer. His eyes widened as he took in the dimly lit interior.
“Mr. Knight is in attendance this evening,” the doorman said. “Would you like him to give you a tour?”
“If it’s allowed, I’ll wander around myself.”
“Stay off the third floor unless you know what it’s for and what you want,” he warned.
“I believe it was explained when my acceptance notice arrived, but thank you for the reminder. I’m really here for the cards.”
“All the tables are set up in the ballroom. Go up the stairs and turn right.”
He hurried up the stairs and whistled when he entered the ballroom and saw all the tables, most of them full, not just with gentlemen but with ladies as well.
He was used to attending men-only gambling hells, though ladies of dubious reputations were present, not to partake in card play but to serve and entertain the gentlemen.
The sight of ladies sitting at tables and playing cards with men was intriguing, to say the least. He walked the perimeter of the room, recognizing many members of the ton.
“Welcome to Club Knight, Greyson.”
The gentleman who approached him wore a mask that covered most of his face.
A face Greyson knew was burned and scarred in the war.
He was dressed entirely in black, except for his fine white linen shirt.
He had recently married a young widow by the name of Charlotte Beauchamp, making her his duchess.
“Tremont, or do you go by Knight here?”
“I prefer Knight while inside the club. It adds to the mystique. I was surprised to find your application cross my desk.”
“Why?”
“Mayhap there were rumors from Newmarket during the spring about you and Lady Rutherford.”
His stomach clenched up tight, causing stabbing pain. “How in the hell?”
“So tell me why you are here.”
“Perhaps I’m here for the gambling.” He had been admitted to the club, so why was Knight hammering him?
His Grace . . . Knight chuckled. “I admit some members come for the gambling and nothing else.”
“Perhaps I came to gamble, play billiards, and relax without having to be perfect all the time.”
“Oh, come now, Greyson. You can do that at any of the other gambling clubs around London. There must be another reason.”
“Christ, Knight. Give a man a break. The truth is, I do want to gamble, wear my shirt unbuttoned if I so desire, and not have to explain myself to anyone. Chaperoning my sisters during the Season, the racing circuit, and now the start of the Little Season, not to mention my father’s declining health and my mother’s right along with his, has me wanting peace. ”
“You will get that here and more. I also understand that demons are fighting to take over, but you would be wise to fight them back.”
“Perhaps I just want to satisfy some desires with a willing partner.” Why the bloody hell did he say that?
“I’m disappointed in you. Perhaps you have a willing partner in Lady Rutherford. Perhaps you should visit her and devote your energy to solidifying your future with her. Or better yet, bring her here.”
“I don’t think that would be wise. I also can’t imagine what business this is of yours.”
“It’s not. Although I do have a vested interest in my Black Knights.”
“Are we finished here?” He’d been tense since arriving thirty minutes earlier.
The last thing he expected was an interrogation by Knight.
Knight was someone he knew well since he headed up the Black Knights.
Most of the time, he was in an odd mood; tonight, he was even odder than usual.
Greyson would have thought it was because he’d applied for membership, but as he looked around the room, he noticed a few Black Knights in attendance, so that couldn’t be the reason.
“Yes, but please keep in mind what I said before you do something you regret.”
Without replying, Greyson moved to the first available chair and sat down.
“Deal me in.” He removed several bills from his billfold.
To his misfortune, he found himself at a vingt-et-un table.
Glancing around the round table, he tried to hide his annoyance at the other three players.
Miss Constance Sherman, her cousin and cousin’s husband, the Earl and Countess of Haversham.
Greyson had courted Miss Sherman briefly a year ago.
Their personalities were too different. It didn’t take him long to learn they would never suit.
“Miss Sherman, Earl, Countess,” he said as he picked up the one card the dealer had dealt him.
“Greyson,” Miss Sherman said with a smile. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’ve been quite busy these days,” Greyson replied to Miss Sherman. “I hope all is well with you?” He picked up another card and smiled inwardly as he held two tens. The object of the game was to get as close to twenty-one as possible without going over.
“I am very well, thank you for asking,” she replied, eyeing him like candy.
Quite unsettling, to say the least. When he’d courted her, the typical roles had been reversed.
He’d had to fend off her amorous advances.
He knew if he had bedded her, she would have expected a marriage proposal, which he had no intention of making.
He’d ended the courtship, to her disappointment.
“Another card, Greyson?” the dealer asked.
“No.”
“Then place your cards down, face up.”
He won the hand and received a nasty look from Miss Sherman, who held a jack and an eight.
Oh well. One shouldn’t gamble or play cards if one can’t lose graciously.
After playing several more hands of vingt-et-un, which he lost, Greyson stood and bowed.
“Ladies, gentlemen, since this is my first night at the club, I’d like to look around.
” He would stay clear of the third floor, where ladies and men went looking for company.
As much as his body needed relief, since it’d been months since he’d bedded a woman, he just couldn’t do it.
The only woman he wanted in his arms and in his bed was Letitia, even if he wouldn’t.
It wouldn’t be fair to her. He couldn’t commit to a relationship just now because of the Black Knights.
Ever since the war with Napoleon ended, the people of England had been suffering and starving.
People were out of work as machines replaced them.
The new Corn Laws, since they were passed in 1815, limited the amount of grain that could be imported, which kept grain prices and profits high.
This benefited landowners and farmers, but the working classes were struggling to feed their families as food costs continued to rise.
The laws had been widely protested since they were passed—it wasn’t hard to see why—but ever since the Pentrich Rebellion in June, Greyson had been particularly busy.
The uprising, led by Jeremiah Brandreth, had ended badly.
He had believed he would lead his group of farmers, knitters, and out-of-work industrial workers, armed with crude weapons, to Nottingham, where they would meet fifty thousand other men and then march on the Tower to demand government reform by force.
Unfortunately, they had been deceived by a man—an informant and agitator—who approached Brandreth and encouraged the march.
Light Dragoons stopped them long before they made it to London, and Brandreth and several other men were now awaiting execution.
Greyson was still cleaning up that mess in his work as a Black Knight, as the repercussions from that rebellion weren’t over yet.
More and more rebellions were occurring in smaller groups.
The Black Knights were tasked with keeping the peace and dispersing the protesters without bloodshed.
They hoped to reach them before the local militias, Light Dragoons, yeomanry, or infantry soldiers arrived, drew their weapons, and made arrests.
Most often, they arrived too late. Sometimes Greyson felt as though the Black Knights weren’t doing enough or making any difference.
While Prinny still feared a copy of the French Revolution happening in Britain.
Greyson poked his head into a few doors, finding a billiards room, a library, and several salons. Having seen enough for one night, he made his way to the door and retrieved his coat, hat, and gloves from the doorman.
“Leaving so soon, Greyson?” Knight said from a dark corner of the entry hall. The man could make himself invisible in broad daylight.
“Yes, I feel the sudden urge to be alone.”
“I totally understand.” He paused, then stepped farther into the entry. “Remember what I said—bring Lady Rutherford next time. I would love a formal introduction.”
“I will take it under advisement.” Greyson walked to his carriage and told his driver, “Home, Hughes.”
When he finally arrived home, he dismissed his valet for the night and prepared for bed.
Lying in bed on his back, he willed his exhausted mind and body to sleep.
It wasn’t easy. It took over an hour of reliving the time in the garden with Letitia and then his visit to Club Knight before he finally fell asleep, a particular blue-eyed, beautiful lady smiling up at him in his thoughts.