The Theory of Earls - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,47

ache Tony had recently developed over Miss Lainscott and had provided the added benefit of not having to watch her fawn over his friend.

Tony didn’t deal with jealously very well.

The small piece of property was three days’ ride from London. Tony had merely asked Carstairs to give his opinion of the estate and report back on its potential use as a hunting retreat. Carstairs had jumped at the excuse to stalk rabbits and other furry creatures through the woods. He’d never even questioned why Tony wouldn’t be going with him.

Carstairs would return in a day or two, in time for the ball Tony’s stepmother was hosting. Miss Lainscott could continue her pursuit of his friend then.

The scotch turned bitter in his mouth at the thought of Carstairs and Miss Lainscott.

It isn’t as though you could have her.

“What’s wrong, Welles?” Georgina said from beside him. “You’re frowning. A poor hand?”

Jealousy was such an ugly emotion. He didn’t care for it.

“Something like that.”

18

Margaret hopped out of the hack she’d ridden in and stared at the entrance to Elysium. Part of her wanted to run after the driver and beg him to take her back to the relative safety of her aunt’s home. She gave herself a little shake remembering why she was here.

Best to see this through.

A boisterous group of young men sailed past her, drunk and laughing.

Cautiously, she pulled the hood close around her face to hide her features and kept her eyes lowered. Elysium, surprisingly, was located at the very edge of one of the toniest neighborhoods in London. She’d thought the driver hadn’t understood her destination until he’d taken a sharp turn up a winding driveway and through a cluster of trees before halting in front of an immense, red door. A discreet gold-lettered sign to the right of the door proclaimed the establishment was, indeed, Elysium.

A doorman with one arm stood guard before the entrance, watching the laughing group of gentlemen with hooded eyes. He inclined his head and greeted each by name. The giant next to him only grunted, the muscles of his immense arms and shoulders rippling beneath the fabric of his coat. The material parted revealing a pistol tucked into his waistband as he waived the young men forward.

The gentlemen’s laughter quieted as they stepped around the giant and into the club.

Margaret briefly reconsidered the wisdom of what she was about to do. She wanted Welles’s help with Carstairs, but that wasn’t why she’d come. At least it wasn’t the only reason. She pulled the cloak tighter and took a step forward.

After the group of gentlemen passed through the door, Margaret cautiously approached the doorman. He looked frightening with his broad forehead and barrel chest, but he smiled easily, watching her with curiosity.

The giant glanced her way then dismissed her.

Taking a deep breath, Margaret walked forward, meaning to enter the door. She wasn’t sure what she would do once she was inside. Ask for Welles, she supposed.

“Here now. What’s this?” The man with one arm stopped her with a frown. “You can’t go in this way, miss. Surely you were told?”

Margaret’s cheeks puffed. “Why ever not? You allowed those gentlemen before me to do so.”

“They’re members. Are you a member?” He gave her a skeptical look. “I thought not. I’ve never seen you before.” He peered at her, his eyes narrowing. “You here at someone’s request?”

“A…request?” She supposed she was, in a manner of speaking. Her presence had been requested. “Yes, I am.”

“Then you should know to go around back.” He jerked his thumb. “They’ll check to see if your name is on the list. If not, then you can catch a hack.”

“But—”

The giant rolled his eyes and took her arm, dragging her along with him before she could object.

Margaret had to run on her tiptoes to avoid being dragged, all while struggling to keep the cloak closed. Torches lit a gravel path winding around the side of the building to another door, this one not nearly as grand as in front; this door, too, was painted red.

Two ladies stood awaiting entrance while another man, equally as large as the one in front, checked a ledger. The women turned at her approach, their faces each covered with an ornate silk mask sufficiently hiding their identities. The sound of their laughter reached Margaret’s ears as they were waved inside.

The giant moved her forward to stand before the door.

“Who are you here for?” The man looked her over with little interest.

“I’m not on your list,” Margaret said.

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