Her Quicksilver Lover: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 6 (22 page)

Approaching Lady Stillings’s house, Amidei would have enjoyed the sight, had he been less concerned. Although he had not admitted to his valet or Joanna that he was worried, he would not deny it to himself. He did what he always did in situations like this. He lifted his chin, half lowered his eyelids, and strode from his carriage to the front door as if he owned the place.

Nobody prevented him entering the house. The hall was glittering with light and jewels, and as he entered, people returned his bows. But nobody approached him. He did not know the people there in any meaningful way, only by sight.

Lord Dalfont gave him a chilly smile, but Amidei was too wise to approach the high-stickler.
Scale the lower fences first, before taking on the mountain.
He climbed the staircase and turned right to the apartments where the doors were thrown open and the rooms blazed with light.

He traversed the rooms, bowing and smiling. He did not pause, because nobody required him to do so, but sauntered through the assembly. Lady Stillings had opened three great rooms and several lesser ones, but Amidei did not concern himself with them. Only the great room where the four-piece orchestra was tuning up in preparation for the dancing, and the one that held the refreshments. He looked into the card room, but the tables were already occupied.

People were catching up with each other, chatting and gossiping. A few glances were thrown his way, but no welcoming smiles. Amidei continued on his way. By now he was praying that he would see someone to talk to. If he toured the rooms and left, the gossip would continue. Nobody had cared to speak with him, and so he was not welcome. Although nobody was giving him the cut direct yet.

At last, at the end of the procession of rooms, he opened his mind, searching for another immortal. He rarely did this in company, because some mortals had the ability to communicate that way, and such action might lay him open to attack, but by then he was desperate. With his smile fixed firmly in place, at last someone responded.

Here.

At his leisure, still smiling and bowing, and receiving chilly bows in return, he saw the imposing figure of Gerard, Lord Ellesmere. Too wise to hurry over, knowing Gerard would wait for him, Amidei strolled in his general direction, taking a glass of wine from a tray on the way. Arriving, he executed the perfect bow, and received a perfunctory one in return.

“I’m delighted to see you, sir,” he said.

I’ll wager you are. What is happening here? Why are you suddenly out of favour? When I left London you were riding high.
“And I you.”

Amidei answered Gerard’s questions as fully as he could, while they were conversing about the weather, the time of year, and the delightful prospect of a new season.

Gerard listened intently.
That could be a serious blow.

And to my lady. I had planned to bring her here tonight.

Leave as soon as you can without drawing comment. Faith is over there, talking to some friends. Dance with her before you leave.

Gerard understood the nuances. He would wait for a country dance, which required him to take several partners during the course of it, then he would know. If he received the cut direct, he would take Joanna and leave the city. He would not subject her to this kind of treatment.

Gerard’s wife was a lovely, tranquil woman, who had met Gerard in the most extreme circumstances. In Bedlam, to be precise. The Bethlem Hospital had been a temporary home for Bacchus, god of wine and madness, and Gerard was rescuing him from his own folly. Or he thought so, until Bacchus, otherwise known as Blaize, Lord Stretton, had pointed out that actually Stretton was rescuing Gerard. Because, at last, Blaize had uncovered the whereabouts of Jupiter.

Faith appeared delighted to meet Amidei and introduced him to the two ladies she’d been chattering with. Amidei put down his empty wineglass and led her on to the floor. While they danced, he explained his predicament, and the problem.

Did Gerard say he wanted to take me home?

No,
he answered, mildly bewildered by her comment.

Good, because I’m not going anywhere.

I might. The club is nearly empty and it’s obvious that I am not welcome here tonight. Merely accepted. Argus has done his work too well.

Faith glanced around and pasted a dazzling smile on her face, as if he’d just said something to amuse her.
I know exactly what to do.

But despite him pressing her, she would not tell him. Instead, she moved on to her next partner, and Amidei faced a sweet and very young woman, who was easily identified from her mother glaring daggers at him from the side of the floor. “You are Lady Bradshaw’s daughter, I take it?”

The girl blushed and glanced down, though Amidei wasn’t aware of saying anything unusual. “Yes, indeed, and this is my first London ball.”

“Then you should mark every moment. You will never have a first London ball again.”

This time she responded sweetly to his smile, and then they passed on. At least he’d made one conquest tonight. He had not missed the way the girl’s gaze had roamed over his attire, and then his face, and her eyes had widened when he’d smiled.

Stop ogling and pay attention.

He grinned at Faith’s admonition, quite startling the older lady he was now partnered with.
Yes, ma’am. I can look, though. I doubt Joanna will baulk at that. She somehow feels she is not fit for society because she was born poor.

Fiddle! I was living in Vinegar Yard when I met Gerard. You don’t get poorer than that.

Amidei decided that he loved Faith Ellesmere. Not as much as he loved Joanna, but he would always keep a soft spot for the woman who had faced so much trouble with a smile on her face.

Now make your way out and leave the rest to us. You can’t force your way in, you know that. Let’s make it irresistible. Get them to come to you.

I love your confidence, Faith, but I fear it might be too late for that.

By the time he left the house, Amidei was sure of it. He was cut a few times, when people turned away from him, but never given the cut direct. At least he could be thankful for that. However, it was coming, he was sure of it. If he continued to push his way into society, they would close ranks on him. And the club would be finished.

By the time he got home, he’d run the gamut of emotions from fury to despair, and now felt nothing but weary acceptance. He would make his plans accordingly. His great dream, a place for immortals to gather, would be over, yet again, and he would have to leave. By the simple expedient of spreading gossip and unfounded rumours, Argus had defeated him.

He would not allow Joanna to face such cruel behaviour. She was uncertain enough about entering society. To see skirts swept out of her way as she passed would kill what little social confidence she had left. And unless he could draw the highest in the land to his club, the Pantheon Club would fail. He did not wish to risk owning an establishment for immortals only.

But he had not lost everything. He had the woman he loved, the one he could happily spend the rest of his life with, however long that turned out to be. But he ached to give her more than a poisoned chalice.

Entering the great, black-painted doors of the Pantheon Club did not raise Amidei’s spirits as it usually did. The inside was spotless, the paintings on the walls of distinguished patrons clean and straight, the whole building exuding the air of exclusivity and luxury he had striven for when he’d first walked in here.

Despite the building being in a prime situation, it had been in decline for some time before Amidei had bought it. The first purpose-built club in London had cost the owners too much for them to sustain the resulting establishment. They’d almost snatched Amidei’s hand off when he’d offered them the price they asked for. But he considered they’d deserved something for having such a bold vision, just not the acumen to turn it into a burgeoning business.

He had. Now he was preparing to walk away. On his own, he would have fought, but how could he subject Joanna to such unpleasantness as must occur when society turned its back on him? Argus had won, and in such an underhand, insidious way that it threw Amidei into such mingled despair and fury he knew he wasn’t fit for company right now.

He couldn’t go to Joanna in this mood. Instead of taking the stairs to the upper floor, he floated in her mind, assuring himself that she was asleep and well. She stirred, her thoughts warming to him. Hastily, he withdrew, leaving her to her slumbers.

With a sense of foreboding he had never felt before in this building, Amidei turned right and headed for the main rooms.

Apart from a few stalwarts, the main assembly rooms were deserted. Anger and sorrow built in his heart as he powered his way through, pausing to smile and assure anyone who asked that the club would be open for the whole of the next season, and the one after that. He behaved as if nothing was wrong.

But everything was. The club should be packed with men gambling and drinking. The women’s rooms likewise had promised to become centres of gossip and social activity. But nothing was happening. The lovely spaces were dead.

Amidei might have deterred a mob from storming the building, but Argus had won another way. Spreading scandal could kill the place as surely as an explosion.

In a corner of one of the smaller public saloons set aside for the men, he found Apollo. He sat by the fire, feet up on a padded footstool, as comfortable as in his own home. He was alone.

Amidei nodded to him and would have left him to his own devices, but Wickhampton held up his hand to stay him. “Will you tell me what is happening?”

Setting his jaw, Amidei strode across and in a few, succinct words, brought his friend up to date. “It appears that rumour and innuendo are winning the battle for the Titans. It’s too slippery; I can’t get hold of it and wring the truth free. Lies are spreading, and people are believing them. I’m a foreigner, an upstart, not one of them, and the club is far too scandalous. They were right all along, the gossips are saying, although this time last year they were extolling the club as if it was the home of the second coming.”

Unbidden, Wickhampton poured a glass of brandy for himself and for Amidei. Amidei downed his in one, something he would not normally consider with good French brandy. The spirit burned its way down to his stomach, the smoothness only a disguise for its essentially acidic presence.

Wickhampton turned his glass in his hands. “They’re gossiping about me too, so I sent for my sisters. They were quite a hit when they came to London, or so Damaris told me. They will help me establish respectability, although I’m in danger of finding myself leg-shackled before the end of the season, if I’m not careful. I should have found an amenable wife years ago, I daresay, but I went on my merry way, with nary a thought to respectability. Or London, for that matter.”

Amidei helped himself to another libation of the dark amber liquid. “Watch the legends, that’s all I can say. They’re tricky. I found a love without their help, but others have not. And the legends have returned to mark me. The original Mercury killed the giant Argus and gave the eyes to Juno to decorate her peacocks’ tails. Now his descendant seems to want revenge.”

“Humph.” Wickhampton sipped his brandy thoughtfully. “We have not seen him, and we’re not positive of his mortal identity.”

“I am,” Amidei said. “Joanna has seen him, and I’m sure he is her erstwhile suitor, a man called Gough. Patrick Gough. He’s posing as a wealthy individual, and he bought the
Argus
journal, changing its name to the one he preferred.”

“Now why would he do that, if he knew it would draw our attention to him?”

Amidei sighed, knowing he should have worked through these arguments. Normally he would have done so, but in this case his heart was involved, and he had run with his instincts instead of his rationality. “Revenge. He changed the name of the journal because he knew we would realize who was behind the attacks.”

“Revenge against what or whom?”

Amidei shook his head. “Juno died.” Wickhampton had not been there then. “A year ago, more or less, and it was a result of her siding with Kronos. Argus has always been Juno’s servant. He wanted us to know, that’s for sure, and people who wave their identity in the faces of those they want to harm, want us to know why. However, he did not do it until he was ready to be noticed. All his plans were in place.”

“And what has he done?”

“Secured the journal, then courted Joanna, but only after she became a maid here.” He closed his eyes. “I should have done this before. I should have ensured I was ahead of him, not chasing him.” He let loose a long series of curses, both foul and inventive.

“Feel better?” Wickhampton was regarding him with interest.

“Somewhat.” At least he could think clearly now. Here, in the place where he’d poured so much money and love, he found himself a space, a place of calm. How long it would last he had no idea, but he would use it while he had it.

“Can you not sue him for seditious libel?”

Amidei snorted. “That would merely make me a laughing stock.”

“You could prove that his accusations are untrue.”

“It would provide me with some satisfaction, but it would not have any practical results.” He waved his hand, diamonds glittering in the golden light. “I will consider it, though, as a distraction.”

“And you think he is doing this alone?”

Amidei shrugged. “Yes. He might have a few servants, but he has made this fight personal. If we do not scotch it, we may find more Titans joining in.” He pressed his hand over his eyes. “I do believe he’s beaten me. I will not have Joanna under threat, so I will remove her from the battleground. Then you may do as you wish. The club is finished. Nobody will come back. Use it how you will.”

“Just you wait and see,” Wickhampton said, flourishing his glass at him. “Don’t give up yet. Your lady is safe here.”

“When the club is the battleground?”