Said to give you special treatment should you require it.”
“And who are you?” Nash asked of the man he suspected to be Beckford.
“That there is Beckford, the owner of the Orcus Society,” the wiry man said, glaring at Nash. “You should know the owner of a club you want to get into.”
“Stand down, Bear,” Beckford said, then addressed Nash. “You’ll have to forgive Bear. He’s rather protective when he thinks I’m being disrespected.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Nash said easily. “I knew your name, of course, but I have never seen you. And I wasn’t required to know what you looked like when I was previously given entrance.”
Beckford eyed Nash and then Lilias. “You are the only one whose identity is still a mystery.” The man’s voice was too smooth, and his gaze lingered too long upon Lilias’s chest for Nash’s liking. He reached down, snatched up the cloak she’d discarded, and set it on her shoulders. She glanced at him in obvious surprise.
“She’ll remain a mystery,” Nash replied before Lilias could. She elbowed him for his gallant efforts, but he didn’t care. She did, he noted with relief, pull the hood of her cloak up. All that concerned him was protecting her. “She’s with me. That’s all you need to know. Well, that and if she ever comes here without me, do not give her entrance. That would infuriate Carrington.”
A knowing look settled on Beckford’s gaze, which was still upon Lilias. “Another Society lady dressed as a courtesan.” He shook his head.
“What gave me away?” Lilias demanded.
“Your face is too innocent. And this one—” the man jabbed a finger in Nash’s direction “—is too protective.”
“Men are not protective of courtesans?” Lilias asked.
“Yes,” Beckford replied, “they are, but in a different sort of way. A way that says, ‘This is my paid possession.’”
Nash did not like the direction this conversation was going. “Shall we go into the club?”
“And what did Greybourne’s way of being protective say to you?” Lilias asked, ignoring Nash.
“How the devil is this man supposed to know?” Nash bit out.
“Oh, I know. I’ve a keen eye. Your way says this woman is a part of you.”
Lilias gasped, and Nash had the urge to punch Beckford in the mouth. “Your vision has turned bad.”
Beckford snorted, Bear guffawed, and Lilias was utterly silent beside Nash. He purposely avoided her gaze. Nothing good could come of their eyes meeting now. “We’re here in search of someone,” Nash said.
Beckford nodded and motioned his hand toward Bear and then Lilias’s gig. In a flash, Bear was moving toward the gig and Beckford was waving them inside the club. “You can tell me who you’re in search of on the way in. I do have one question, though, and one favor.”
Nash did meet Lilias’s gaze then, and she looked as surprised as he was.
“What’s the question?” Nash asked.
“The lady, Lady.…?”
“A,” Lilias said. “You can call me Lady A.”
Nash raised his eyebrows and tried to convey with a look that she would need to explain this to him later.
“All right, Lady A,” Beckford said agreeably, closing the door behind them, which effectively left them in a dark, narrow corridor.
Somewhere in the distance, muted conversations were happening and music was being played. The notes of both floated on the air to Nash. Scents assaulted him as before, too. Scents of burning candles and lamps. Of crackling fires and heavy perfumes. Of the tang of excitement and the sweetness of desire. He moved closer to Lilias, pressing his hand to her back, needing to have contact with her to ensure she was safe. He half expected her to pull away from him, but she leaned into his palm, the curve of her lower spine fitting perfectly there. It made him wonder how they would fit together in other instances. Without clothes.
“Damnation,” he muttered, going perfectly hard.
Lilias and Beckford looked at him.
“Stubbed my toe,” he lied.
Beckford looked at him skeptically but asked, “Are all rooms open to Lady A?”
As Beckford wound them down the dark, stuffy hall and passed an oil lamp that had been fashioned into the wall, the momentary pop of light highlighted Lilias’s expression and showed her to be scowling at Beckford’s back. Nash stifled the desire to laugh.
“Why are you asking him?” Lilias asked, sounding incensed. “I am right here, and the question is about me, so you should address it to me.”
“Very well,” the man said. “Do you wish to enter the pleasure rooms or avoid them?”
“She’ll avoid them,” Nash said quickly.
“I most