A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club) (14 page)

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘But is she pretty?’

Do you love her? Do you love her as I have loved Hugh, with every inch of your body and soul?

He glanced away. ‘I think her very handsome and sensible.’

Poor Mrs Everard.

She made herself smile again. ‘I am very happy for you.’

In fact, she should give him a raise in salary. If he was supporting a wife now, he could use a raise. That idea comforted her. It was another good deed she could perform.

But she feared being taken into further confidence about Everard’s marriage, since he described his wife as handsome and sensible. ‘Tell me news of London,’ she asked instead.

To her surprise, his countenance became very serious. ‘I quite understand.’

He understood she wished to change the subject? Why this intensity?

‘I do not know very much, you understand, merely what I have heard people say and what has been written in the newspapers.’ He drained the remainder of his wine down his throat.

Goodness. She was merely hoping for general gossip or what debates were consuming Parliament or what was being performed at the Royal Opera House.

Carter and Finn removed their dishes and put a fresh cloth on the table. Fruit and biscuits appeared and port wine was poured.

Everard continued after the food was served. ‘The gentleman of whom you wish I would speak—’ did he mean Xavier? No, she did not wish him to speak of Xavier ‘—did marry the Earl of Westleigh’s daughter—’

‘Yes, I knew this,’ she broke in.

His brows rose. ‘He no longer runs the club. Did you know that? Rhysdale returned to run it. People say your gentleman has turned into a shop owner, but I do not know the truth of that.’

She had no right to care what Xavier did. She had no right to even speak of him. ‘I—I gather the Masquerade Club was repaired at my expense?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He chewed on a biscuit. ‘It is as prosperous as ever, they say, although the masked
pianiste
does not play there anymore.’

Of course not. She was married and bore a child.

‘That is excellent,’ she said too brightly.

‘Although I read just the other week that the new Lord Westleigh’s younger brother has taken over the managing of the club. Apparently the Westleighs were partners in the enterprise all along.’

Daphne felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs. ‘Younger brother?’ she managed. Her heart beat faster.

Hugh!

He nodded and took a sip of port. ‘The old Lord Westleigh, the scandalous one, died suddenly and his older son inherited. Did you know of that?’

With difficulty she kept a pleasant expression on her face. ‘Yes. I heard of that.’

He prattled on. ‘So when I said the new Lord Westleigh, I meant the older son. The younger son recently returned from the Continent. Their father left his affairs in a terrible mess and the younger son was sent to settle them.’ He picked up another biscuit. ‘So when I said younger brother, I meant it is Hugh Westleigh who now manages the Masquerade Club.’

* * *

Hugh.

Her mind raced the whole evening, thinking of him. She barely made it through tea in the drawing room after dinner and was relieved to be free of the obligation to make conversation when she noticed Mr Everard tiring.

‘Dear Mr Everard.’ She could at least hide her swirl of emotions behind charm. ‘I hope you will forgive me. I am greatly fatigued and would beg you excuse me for the night.’

The relief on his face was immediate. ‘Yes. Yes. I will retire, as well. I must head back to London in the morning.’ He stood and offered his hand to help her stand.

She accepted it, but kept her distance from him as they walked out of the drawing room into the hall.

When he reached the stairs, she stepped back. ‘I must speak with my housekeeper for a minute, so I will bid you goodnight here.’ It was not true, of course.

He looked relieved again. ‘Goodnight, my lady.’ He spoke formally and bowed correctly. That reassured her.

‘Goodnight, sir.’ She released a breath and turned to the door of the servants’ wing, but did not open it. Instead, she leaned against the wall and waited, listening to his footsteps recede as he mounted the stairs.

Hugh.

She was free to think of him again.

Tears stung her eyes.
Hugh, you are not blind!
He could not be blind. If he was blind, how would he be able to manage a gaming house where the job was to watch everything and everyone?
But why are you not on some exciting voyage somewhere?
What happened to change his plans?

She closed her eyes and remembered the Masquerade Club. She imagined him there walking through the rooms like Xavier had done, speaking to the patrons, watching everything. He would look magnificent in formal clothes, circulating among guests both masked and unmasked. She could not imagine his face precisely. She could only remember him bandaged.

If she saw him she would know him, though. She’d recognised him during the fire after all. But she longed to gaze at him at length, see every detail, discover the colour of his eyes, reassure herself that he was indeed as strong and robust as she remembered. If she only had a chance to memorise all of him, she’d hold that memory for the rest of her days.

Her heart started pounding. The Masquerade Club was the one place she could see him! It was perhaps the only place she could see him.

At the Masquerade Club she could wear a mask. Nobody would know her.

It felt like her heart would burst, she was so excited. She opened the door and hurried down the servants’ staircase in search of Carter.

Mr Everard would have company on the road to London.

* * *

The next morning Daphne made certain she was at breakfast with Mr Everard.

When he entered the breakfast room, set up in a sunny sitting room not far from the formal dining room, he looked pleased. ‘My lady, I did not expect to see you about so early.’

She smiled at him. ‘I wanted to be certain to see you first thing.’

The man blushed.

She went on. ‘You see, I have decided to go to London, as well. Just for a few days. So you do not have to take the public coach. You may ride with my maid and me.’

His brows rose. ‘You are travelling to London? This is sudden.’

‘Indeed, it is very impulsive, I admit.’ She fluttered her eyes. ‘Please choose your food. I hope Cook has prepared something you will like.’

He filled his plate from the sideboard and sat in a chair across from hers. ‘Please do not feel compelled to time your travel around my need. I do not mind the public coach.’

She nibbled on a piece of toasted bread and raspberry jam. ‘It is no trouble to me at all.’

The footman Finn attended them and poured Everard a cup of hot tea.

He nodded his thanks and turned to Daphne again. ‘If I travel ahead of you, I can make certain your house is ready to receive you.’

‘It is not necessary,’ she assured him. ‘I have already dispatched a messenger. We will not require much on arrival.’

He frowned. ‘My lady, why the urgency to visit London?’

‘No urgency.’ Except she could not bear to wait. She was convinced that seeing Hugh vital, fit and sighted would finally settle the unrest inside her. ‘I—I merely discovered that I had a great desire to visit London after hearing you speak of it and it seemed silly to send you in a public coach when we could use my carriage.’

His gaze turned sceptical. ‘My lady, may I speak with frankness?’

She was certain she did not wish to hear this, but she nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Did my speaking of—of that certain gentleman in London precipitate this decision?’ His voice was concerned. ‘Because I must advise you not to attempt a meeting with him.’

A certain gentleman, yes. But not Xavier. ‘Not at all, Mr Everard. I have no plans to attempt a meeting with him.’ In fact, if she thought he would be in attendance at the gaming house, she would hesitate to go there, even masked. He’d recognise her at once, even with a mask.

There was a knock on the door and Monette entered, looking very distressed. ‘Forgive the interruption, my lady, but I cannot find the masks you wished me to pack. They were not in the drawer in your wardrobe.’

Monette’s timing was unfortunate. Daphne had not intended to inform Everard of her plans to visit the Masquerade Club. ‘Perhaps the masks are in a trunk. Have one of the maids show you where the trunks are stored, but do not fuss too much. We can purchase what we need in London.’ Her old masks would need to be altered anyway. She wanted her whole face covered so that there was no chance anyone would recognise her.

‘Yes, m’lady.’ Monette curtsied and left the room again.

Mr Everard gaped at Daphne. ‘You cannot mean to attend the Masquerade Club!’

‘Do not fret, Everard,’ she said in her charming voice. ‘I wish only to make certain all the repairs were made and that the rooms are restored to their previous condition.’

‘I would be honoured to perform that task for you,’ he said. ‘You were asked not to return to the club, if you recall.’

‘I know.’ How mortifying to be forbidden to return to a place because of your bad behaviour. ‘That is why I plan to be well masked. I wish only to see what I would come to see.’ Hugh. She would come to see Hugh.

‘I cannot dissuade you?’ he asked in a hopeless tone.

She returned a most pleasing smile. ‘Please do not worry over me. I promise I will be on my best behaviour.’

He sighed. ‘Then I will accompany you, of course.’

She did not want him there! ‘You certainly will not!’ Her voice turned sharp. She softened it. ‘If you come with me, we are almost certain to be recognised. You must not come.’

‘I cannot allow you to attend there alone,’ he insisted.

She waved a hand. ‘I will make other arrangements. A servant can come with me.’

* * *

Two hours later they were ready to depart. The carriage waited in front of the house, Smith at the reins and a stable boy seated at his side. Carter would ride on top of the carriage with them. Everard, Monette and Daphne would ride inside.

Monette was last to leave the house, looking as if she was bound for the gallows rather than taking what ought to be an exciting trip for her.

Daphne took a basket of food from Monette’s hand. ‘Goodness, Monette. Do not worry so. We can purchase anything we forgot. One can purchase anything in London.’

‘It is not that, my lady,’ her maid said in mournful tones. ‘It is about Toller. We won’t be here if he sends a letter.’

She patted the girl’s arm. ‘I wrote to Toller when I wrote to the housekeeper in London. I asked him to contact us there.’

Monette looked only a little more hopeful.

Daphne leaned closer to her. ‘I promise we will not leave London until we hear from Toller. Will that please you?’

The maid burst into a smile. ‘Very much, my lady!’

Carter helped Daphne and Monette into the carriage. Everard entered last, and soon they were on their way. Everard took the rear-facing seat. Monette shared the other seat with Daphne. As soon as they were on the road, Daphne closed her eyes and leaned her head against the deep red velvet upholstery of the seat. The trip would take seven hours at the most. They would reach London in daylight, but she’d be exhausted by the time they arrived at the London town house her husband had left her. She must wait until tomorrow night to go to the Masquerade Club.

And then she would see Hugh.

Chapter Fourteen

D
aphne stood at the door of the Masquerade Club, her heart in her throat. Carter accompanied her, and she’d arranged for Smith to pick them up in the carriage in two hours.

Two hours. Too brief a time to see Hugh again, but she dared not risk much more lest she call too much attention to herself. She’d chosen her most demure dress, in deep blue, and a black mask. She and Monette had added black satin to the mask, covering almost her whole face, just to be certain she would be unrecognisable. Carter was also masked and seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea of visiting a gaming house.

But that was something to enquire about another time.

Carter sounded the knocker and the door opened. The footman attending the door was the same man who had been there two years before. Cummings. She must remember not to call him by name.

‘We have come to gamble,’ she told him. ‘May we come in?’

Cummings nodded and stepped aside. Carter took off his hat and gloves as if he were a proper gentleman and handed them to Cummings.

Daphne removed her cloak. ‘What do we do next?’

Cummings peered at her, too closely, she felt. ‘See the cashier.’ He pointed to a door off the hall that was ajar.

She took Carter’s arm and they walked together to the door and entered the room. The cashier was also the same man who had been there before. MacEvoy. He passed out mother-of-pearl gaming counters to a gentleman ahead of them.

The gentleman, an older man, glanced at Daphne, smiled and bowed. ‘Good evening, ma’am.’

Another man she remembered.

‘Sir Reginald at your service, ma’am.’ The man’s glance scanned her from head to toe. ‘Do let me know if I may be of assistance to you.’

Daphne inclined her head. ‘Thank you, sir.’ She had no intention of asking anyone for assistance.

MacEvoy cleared his throat. ‘Ma’am? Sir? Perhaps you have not been here before? Step up to the table and I will tell you how the house works.’ He spoke quickly. ‘Masked gamblers must not wager beyond the amount of counters they purchase or win. Masked gamblers are not permitted to sign vouchers. You may not incur debt to the house or to another patron unless you are unmasked and your identity verified. Each patron must know who borrowed from them and who owes them money. Is that clear to you?’

‘It is.’ Daphne had understood two years ago, as well.

Carter stepped forwards and purchased the counters for them. While he double-checked the number MacEvoy gave them, Daphne noticed MacEvoy staring at her.

‘Are you certain you have never been here before?’ he asked.

‘Never,’ Carter answered truthfully. ‘Where is the gaming room?’

MacEvoy gestured with his hand. ‘Right off the hall. Follow the sounds.’

They walked out of the room, and Daphne released a relieved breath. She’d obviously seemed familiar to Cummings and MacEvoy. She had been a frequent visitor during that summer two years ago and had made a spectacle of herself in so doing. Hugh had certainly seen her a few of those times. He and the others would have known her as Lady Faville then.

Carter handed her half the counters. ‘I truly may gamble with these?’ he asked, displaying his portion on his open palm.

‘You may indeed,’ Daphne answered. ‘And keep the winnings. Enjoy yourself, Carter. There is no need for you to stay at my side. Just be ready to leave in two hours.’

‘Yes, m’lady.’

They entered the gaming room and it was as if Daphne had never left. The card tables were still arranged throughout the room, filled with four people playing whist, or two concentrating on piquet. At the back of the room and along the side of one wall were the faro, hazard and
vingt-et-un
tables. All were crowded with gamblers. Most of the men did not wear masks, but many of the women did. The hum of their combined voices filled the room, along with the shuffling of cards and tossing of dice.

Daphne scanned the room. ‘Do you see him?’ she asked Carter.

Carter knew she’d come to see Hugh. He also surveyed the scene. ‘I do not.’

What if Hugh was not here tonight? To come all this way and not see him would be agony.

‘Go and gamble, Carter.’ She shooed him off. ‘I’ll just take a turn around the room before playing a little hazard or something.’

Carter nodded and strode off.

Daphne strolled through the tables, trying not to look as though she was searching for one certain person. As she passed, both men and women took notice of her. Once it would have pleased her for heads to turn wherever she went, but tonight she wanted to blend into the walls. Carter quickly found a card game and began expertly shuffling the cards. He looked as if he was in his element.

She wandered over to the faro table, thinking she ought to make the appearance of gambling, as well. She glanced over to the croupier, a pretty young woman, who was about to start another round.

‘Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen,’ the croupier called out. Daphne remembered her name was Belinda. She’d handled the hazard table before.

Daphne placed two counters on number seven, the number of days she and Hugh had so intimately shared together.

Belinda popped a card from the faro box. ‘Ten.’ The first card was the losing one.

All the gamblers who had placed their counters on the number ten groaned as Belinda collected them for the house.

She popped out a second card from the box. This would be the winning one. ‘Seven!’

Daphne smiled. Her lucky number.

She scooped up her winnings, but left two counters on number seven. There were three more sevens in the deck of cards after all. She might win more.

She glanced up at Belinda, but riveted her gaze on the man who’d come to stand next to the croupier.

Hugh!

Her insides fluttered with excitement. A face she’d only glanced at in her past now loomed more important than anything else. His looks were not perfection, but were ruggedly handsome. The shadow of dark beard made him look rakish. She stared at his eyes. Even from across the table she could see they were brown. Large brown eyes with thick brows above them. She nearly laughed in delight as his eyes darted here and there, watching the room even as he conversed with Belinda.

He could see!

She’d known he could see, of course, but witnessing it made it all seem real. Her purpose in coming here was satisfied.

If only it were enough. She yearned to touch him. Trace his brows with her thumb. Comb back his unruly dark locks with her fingers. Cup his face in her hands, like he’d once done to hers. It was impossible. She must be content with gazing upon him.

Belinda popped another card from the faro box. ‘Seven!’

Daphne won again. All eyes, including Hugh’s, swung her way as she collected her winnings, but his interest in her seemed impersonal. A few gentlemen placed counters on number seven and she let her original two counters ride. It truly did not matter to her if she won. In fact, she’d prefer losing, because losing would benefit the Westleighs and thereby benefit Hugh. Besides, her debt to the family could never be completely repaid after she’d almost burnt down this building and risked so many lives.

‘Luck is with you, ma’am,’ a voice at her elbow said. She turned to see Lord Sanvers standing next to her. Sanvers had been in the fire at Ramsgate. He’d spoken to her that night. He’d seen her tend to Hugh.

‘Yes. Luck,’ she responded, her heart pounding.

He could not possibly recognise her, could he?

She waited at the faro table until she lost her two counters and was happy to move away from the attention. She wandered over to a hazard table, keeping Hugh in sight. He’d not given her another glance, but Lord Sanvers followed her.

‘I have not seen you here before, have I?’ he asked. ‘I am Lord Sanvers. Are you alone?’

What an impertinent question. ‘I am not here alone, sir. Are you?’ She’d intended to sound dampening, but her voice was too accustomed to being pleasing.

He flushed with pleasure. ‘I am quite alone and would be grateful for company.’

‘Oh, dear.’ She was eager to shed him. ‘I must look for my escort. If you will excuse me, sir?’

She hurried away, sorry to give up sight of Hugh. She’d retire to the supper room for a few moments. She did want to see it before leaving, as she’d told Everard, to make certain it had been restored to its former beauty. She left the room and climbed the stairs to the supper room.

As she crossed the threshold, she saw immediately that it remained very much in the style of the Brothers Adam. Pale walls. Decorative plasterwork. Phillipa Westleigh’s pianoforte still stood in the same place. She could half-imagine the masked Phillipa seated on its bench, playing and singing and totally anonymous. Daphne had enjoyed listening to her perform.

A footman, another familiar face, approached her, carrying a tray. ‘Some wine, ma’am?’

She took a glass and walked over to the buffet. It was on a table like this that the lamp had stood, the lamp that Daphne had thrown against the wall in a fit of temper. She closed her eyes and remembered the curtains aflame, spots of fire on the carpet, her skirts aflame.

She shuddered at the memory.

‘Ah, there you are.’ It was Sanvers again. ‘May I help fix a plate for you?’

* * *

Hugh noticed Sanvers talking to the woman who’d won at faro. The woman walked off and Sanvers, the lecherous old roué, followed. Women patrons who were masked typically were not at the Masquerade Club for seduction, but to gamble. If this woman found the man’s attentions unwelcome, she might not return to lose money another day. It was part of Hugh’s job to see women guests were not so bothered.

Neither Sanvers nor the woman remained in the game room, and Hugh guessed the woman might have fled to the supper room. He walked up the stairs and entered the room, immediately spying the woman and Sanvers at the buffet. It was still difficult to tell if she was flattered by or objected to Sanvers’ attentions.

He watched her draw away from the man, a sure sign his instincts had been correct. Hugh crossed the room to where two men and another woman also stood selecting food. Hugh approached casually, as if about to join them.

He overheard Sanvers. ‘Would you do the honour of sharing my table,
madame
?’

Hugh caught a whiff of roses and froze. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent again.

He heard her reply. ‘It was kind of you to ask, sir, but no, I prefer to be alone.’

The scent. That voice.

‘A lovely lady such as yourself ought not to be alone,’ Sanvers persisted.

‘Surely no harm will come to me here,’ she retorted. ‘And surely a gentleman such as yourself will respect a lady’s wishes.’

There was no mistake. The one person he expected never to see was here.

Hugh opened his eyes. ‘Pardon me, Sanvers.’

His limbs trembled as he stepped between Sanvers and the woman.

Her eyes widened.

Hugh seized her arm. ‘I must speak with this lady.’ Hugh pulled her away. ‘Come with me.’

He did not even know by what name to call her. His grip was firm, but she did not attempt to pull away. Together they crossed the room and stepped into the hallway where they were alone.

It was only then she spoke. ‘What is this, sir?’ she demanded, using the governess voice he remembered so clearly.

He was not about to confront her there. ‘Come upstairs.’

He held her arm while climbing the stairs that led to Rhys’s private rooms. Hugh had moved into them when he took over the management of the house, an arrangement he preferred over living with his mother...and her lover.

He escorted her into the drawing room and shut the door.

‘Who are you to treat a woman so?’ she demanded.

‘Come now, Daphne, or whatever your name is. You, at least, know who I am, which gives you an advantage. I demand to know what you are doing here.’ He released her, but stood between her and the closed door.

‘I came here to gamble. Is that not what one does at a gambling house?’ She straightened her spine. ‘You speak as if you think I should know you.’

Did she think he would fall for her protestation of innocence? ‘Take off the mask, Daphne.’ His whole body coursed with rage, but even so, his eyes ached to see her at last.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘No. I came to this club because I can wear a mask. I will not take it off for anyone. Not even you, sir.’

‘Not even me?’ He advanced on her and she backed away. ‘So you admit knowing me?’

She retreated until he backed her against a wall. ‘I admit nothing.’

He made a cage of his arms. ‘What is your reason for coming here? Was it for more amusement at my expense? To watch me and believe yourself safe from my knowing who you were? Or was there some other plan? Had there always been some other plan?’

She seemed small and vulnerable next to him. Ironic that when his eyes were bandaged he’d been the one who’d depended upon her strength. He remembered holding her in his arms. He remembered exploring her with his touch. For a brief moment he closed his eyes again and felt her scent, her warmth, envelop him.

He opened them again to glare down at her.

‘I—I merely wanted to—to attend here,’ she rasped. ‘No one was supposed to know.’

He leaned down to her, inches from her masked face, so close he felt her breath against his lips. ‘There was much I was not supposed to know.’

‘Leave it that way, Hugh,’ she whispered. ‘Please. Let me leave now and I promise you will never see or hear from me again.’

‘Allow you to leave?’ He shook his head. ‘You want to walk out again without any explanation? Did what passed between us not give me the right to an explanation, at least? Or was that a lie, as well? Were you deceiving me then, when we were in bed together?’

Her gaze reached his. ‘Not everything was a deception.’ She glanced away. ‘But it is best we leave it at that.’

Her eyes were the blue of cloudless spring day and her lips the pink of her rose scent. He longed to see all of her.

‘Best for who?’ he countered. ‘Do not presume to know what is best for me. Take off your mask. Show me your face and tell me who you really are. You owe me that.’