Scoundrel of My Heart (Once Upon a Dukedom #1) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,49
wine in a slight salute. With a soft smile, Kathryn gave a little nod.
“You know Lady Wilhelmina March?” he asked.
“She is a friend, yes.”
“Is she the one who told you of this place?”
She turned to him. “No, actually. I overheard two ladies discussing it while I was playing cards at the Elysium Club. I’m not convinced your members are as discreet as you want them to be.”
Yet here she was, risking Kingsland discovering that she’d visited. “I don’t mind them discussing the club. As a matter of fact, I very much rely on them talking about it for word to get around. It’s the private business of the individual members and whom they see here that they are not to divulge. Which you’d know if you’d gone through the proper process and sat for an interview.”
He wished he didn’t enjoy seeing her look so victorious.
“So, it’s official. I do have a membership.”
“Until he goes down on a knee for you, until I see the announcement of your betrothal in the Times. Although I can’t see that after tonight, once your curiosity is satisfied, that you’ll have much use for the place. Those who are here are announcing they are in search of companionship . . . or something more intimate.”
He didn’t much like how quickly her triumph dissipated into something that seemed rather sad. “Is that what you’re announcing when you’re standing at the top of the stairs, or halfway down them”—so she’d seen him, and he wondered if she understood he’d been waiting for her, would have stood there all night, until they closed at two, waiting for her—“or wandering through?”
He should answer in the affirmative and let the knowledge affect her as it would, marking him as either cruel or kind or indifferent, depending on the direction in which her hopes led her. Instead, he told her the truth. “The members are not for me.”
Because he couldn’t have whom he wanted, he wouldn’t take what he needed from someone who wasn’t her.
She seemed relieved, perhaps guilty, maybe even a little embarrassed. Her cheeks turned that lovely pinkish hue before she glanced around. “What else do you offer?”
“Come. I’ll show you.”
She should not have been fairly giddy by his response, should not have been glad that all her imaginings—of him taking women to the room he’d taken her last night and closing the door—had turned to dust.
Perhaps he’d wanted her to focus on the lovely walls covered in blue silk or the elegant crystal chandelier or the gorgeous shiny mahogany counter that people sidled up to in order to purchase a drink. But what she had mostly noticed was the way the women devoured him with their eyes, the hope and the want she saw reflected in some.
He had changed after his family had lost everything. He possessed a strength now that he hadn’t before, a confidence that clung to him like the finest of cloaks, tailor-made and perfectly stitched. He effectively communicated, I am giving you this. Make good use of it.
He fascinated her in ways different than he had before. When he looked at her, it was with a determined concentration that made her grow warm and long for that room with the barred door.
Unlike the night before when he’d led the way up the stairs, tonight he followed, and she could not have been more aware of him if he was brushing up against her spine. She wished she’d chosen a gown that revealed more of her back. Why was it that she gave so much thought to what she wore for him and so little regarding what she wore for Kingsland?
Even though she’d told him that she’d dressed for Kingsland the night of the theater, she hadn’t actually gone to any extra effort for him. Unlike last night and tonight when she’d wanted to look perfect.
When they reached the landing, he took the lead, managing to escort her, guide her, without touching her, his hands still held securely behind his back. He wasn’t nearly as relaxed with her as he’d been that long-ago night when he’d brought her here, before Kingsland made his announcement, before she knew about the wager, before his family was ruined because of his father’s actions.
The first room was a cardroom, but the tables were small, only two chairs at each. Fewer than a dozen couples were playing. As cards were dealt, ladies blushed and gentlemen grinned. “Not very original.”
“Look more closely.” He’d lowered his head, and his breath fanned along