In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,110
That’s going to require . . .” His pencil flew frantically over the page as he recorded his calculations. “At least eighteen to twenty feet, which is . . .” His mouth continued moving. “That’s over four thousand square feet you’re going to require—”
“Yes—”
“Just for the areas for practice sessions,” he continued over her interruption. “That doesn’t include the space required for dress and undress, which is another . . .” Never before had she seen any gentleman so self-possessed and in command of work he did with his own hands. Her father, her brother, Sylvia’s husband—they’d all dealt with their man-of-affairs and solicitors to see to the details that Hugh even now worked through. He scribbled away at the page, and while he tabulated those numbers, Lila found herself studying him. His dark curls, in a perpetual state of rebellion, fell over his brow, his midnight eyebrows formed a single line from his level of concentration . . . and he was so very disarming in his engrossment. “That is another twelve feet by the twelve.” He looked over and, at finding her gaze on him, frowned. “Are you paying attention?”
“I am.” Only partially.
How very focused he was. “Twelve by twelve rooms would be one hundred and—”
“Forty-four,” she finished for him.
Hugh circled that number three times.
Alas, he appeared wholly unimpressed by her computation. “There is the matter of leasing versus purchasing—”
“I would rather purchase.”
“Purchasing the size and space you require, in the end of London you require, will cost in the thousands.”
She choked. She’d a sizable dowry, but all her funds would go to just the purchase of the establishment. “What of renting, then?”
“Rent is also expensive.” Reaching for the folio lying out before them, Hugh dug around before settling on a sheet. He slapped it down between them. “There is the matter of where you’re going to rent in London. I expect you’ll have your establishment aimed toward the nobility in East London.”
She frowned. “What makes you expect that my services will strictly be offered to members of the peerage?”
He paused. “I . . .” He shook his head. “Then, the lower class?”
Lila shoved herself up into a seated position. “I wish to make Combattre la Société a place that is open to all—those in the nobility, and men and women outside of it.”
She may as well have sprouted a second head for the look he gave her.
“Both classes?”
She nodded.
“Together?”
Lila’s lips pulled in another frown. “You find that so hard to believe?”
“That lords and ladies will wish to mingle with commoners?” Tossing his pencil down, Hugh sat up and, drawing his knees up, shifted so they faced one another. “I absolutely do. That’s not the way of the world.”
“You have patrons who come to your arena.”
“That’s different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Lords have no compunctions in taking their pleasures outside their ranks as long as they’re taking part in uncouth activities: wagering, fighting, drinking . . . But what you’re proposing doesn’t fit within those customs.”
“That’s . . . a cynical way of looking at the world.”
“That is the true way of the world,” he countered. “It is a common truth that the wealthy ruling elite don’t want to rub shoulders with their social inferiors. They see a threat in them. If they’re forced to see how the other half lives, it only reminds them of the precarious hold they have on a world rife for rebellion.”
Rife for rebellion.
He spoke as one who knew.
He also spoke of a class tension she’d borne witness to with her own eyes. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said softly.
Hugh looked as though he wished to say something more, but then gathered up his notes. “Very well.” He’d ceased debating her, but she in no way believed she’d swayed him to her thoughts . . . hopes? “Your establishment for all would best be housed upon Bond Street like Gentleman Jackson’s. Based on that . . .” He went to work once again on his forecasting and then stopped. “By my estimates, if you rent a property this size, in this end of London? You are looking at no fewer than one thousand pounds per year. And then there is still the matter of staff to oversee the place. Your trainers. The people who’ll clean, which would put you closer to . . . another two thousand pounds, for a grand total of three thousand pounds each year.” Hugh circled that final tally.