Chapter 15 #2
Choosing to gamble that these women opposed the abusive treatment of their own sex, he told them plainly, “Because I need access to The Albion, so I can rescue a young lady before her abductor sells her to the highest bidder.”
It seemed he’d gambled correctly. Both women sucked in an audible breath.
“Sounds like a virtue auction,” the redhead murmured.
“It is,” James confirmed.
A knowing look passed between the two women, and then the brunette told him, “Wait here a moment.”
When she returned, she was accompanied by an older blonde woman whom the brunette introduced as Mrs. Greene.
She extended a gloved hand to James as though she were Queen Caroline herself. Sensing that this must be the bawd, he produced a bow and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
“And you are?” Mrs. Greene asked once he’d straightened.
He looked her squarely in the eye and noted the sharp look he found there. “Mr. James Murry, valet to Mr. Adrian Croft.”
The edge of Mrs. Greene’s lips twitched. “You might have led with that when you arrived.”
“I thought the danger faced by a young woman was more important,” he said.
She knit her brow and dipped her chin. “Quite right. Irene here tells me you are requesting access to The Albion.”
“Correct. That is where the auction is being held, but getting in undetected poses an issue. I cannot risk recognition.”
“And once you’re in?” Mrs. Greene inquired.
“The event itself is masked. Once I’m inside, I can put my mask on, and no one will know who I am.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Greene spun on her heels and proceeded toward a hallway. “Follow me, Mr. Murry. I’ll escort you myself.”
“Thank you.” James started after her while gesturing for Kip to come along too. “I’ll make sure Mr. Croft compensates you for your assistance.”
“There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Greene informed him. “Indeed, I insist you make no such demand of Mr. Croft on my behalf. Lord knows this favor is just a small recompense for what I owe him.”
During the years he’d spent working for Croft, James had learned not to be surprised by these types of remarks. And yet, occasionally, the extent of his master’s influence — the creditor rights he’d acquired – managed to catch him off guard.
“Very well,” he told Mrs. Greene. “I’ll merely ensure that he knows you helped me to the best of your ability.”
A satisfied nod was her only response as she kept on walking, leading him straight to the door at the end of a hallway. She gave it a few loud raps, then took a step back.
The door eased open a smidgen a few seconds later. “Yes?” a young man inquired.
“I’ve a client who wishes to spend an hour with me in The Diamond Suite,” Mrs. Greene informed him, her voice a coaxing purr. “He’s willing to give you a two-pound tip for assisting with this arrangement.”
“Why not make use of your own facilities?” the man asked.
“For the same reason my girls and I have visited The Albion on previous occasions.”
“That’s different.” Suspicion edged his voice. “Such instances have always involved requests specifically made by The Albion’s guests. The same is not true in this case.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Mrs. Greene hissed. “Do you have any idea whose will you are thwarting right now and the impact it’s likely to have upon not only me, but on you as well?”
“By all means,” said the man, “enlighten me.”
James almost felt bad for the lad. He was only doing what he’d been hired to do, and he was doing an excellent job of it.
Mrs. Greene took a deep breath while drawing her shoulders back. “He is the—”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Greene,” James interjected, affecting the same aristocratic tone he’d heard countless upper-class members of society use.
It was a voice that seemed slightly bored with all the power the owner had at their disposal.
“Mr. Drake will be lunching with me at my club on Friday. I’ll address the matter with him then.
Make sure appropriate measures are taken to be certain this never happens again.
Wouldn’t be the first time he sacked a staff member at my behest. Come.
We’ll make use of your modest facilities instead. ”
Rather than stepping away from the door, however, James prepared to force it open, render the man unconscious, and pull him into The Willow Rooms’s hallway.
It was a method he’d hoped to avoid unless absolutely necessary, which it seemed it was swiftly becoming. Already, they’d wasted precious time trying to persuade the man to simply grant them entry. Ensuring he wouldn’t hinder James any further might be the simplest solution.
But then the door opened another smidgen, and the man gave James a quick head-to-toe assessment. His steady gaze took stock of the pricy Bond Street clothing, tailored to perfection, along with the tell-tale box from Maison Beaumont, and the small crate branded with Berry Brothers and Rudd’s name.
“I beg your pardon, sir.” The young man opened the door even wider and took a step back. “It’s my job to check everyone who wishes to pass through this door. Make sure they have the right to visit The Albion and that they’re not simply trying to avoid getting checked in the foyer.”
“Given the fact that I’m married, I’d rather not have to explain my presence here, should one of my wife’s friends or acquaintances happen to see me.” James offered the man the money Mrs. Greene had him down for, then dismissed him entirely while telling her, “Please lead the way.”
They walked to a flight of stairs and proceeded to climb. Kip followed.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Mrs. Greene whispered when they approached the landing.
“Third floor,” James informed her. “Where’s The Diamond Suite?”
“On the second.”