Julian burst out laughing. “Well played, man of business.”
She made a little bow. “Once there were honest-to-god members, the nobs wasted no time in lording their status over their peers and doling out nominations and recommendations.”
Roger’s club would never be as crowded as White’s or Brooks’s, but every self-respecting gentleman would have amembershipthere, whether he made use of it or not. With the beau monde, appearances were everything.
The gamble worked. But Roger no longer needed her.
“When I dared to ask my cousin for a commission, he put me out into the street.”
Julian looked appalled.
“I had no other family. The benevolent grandfather who had once helped those who had needed it most was long gone…as was the family fortune. No one could help me.”
“What did you do?”
“I sought—and achieved—revenge by aiding Roger’s rival: Sampson Oakes of Eshu’s Altar. But that success wasn’t enough. The gaming hell belonged to Sampson, just as the gentlemen’s club belonged to Roger.”
“I can only imagine how hollow that felt.”
She nodded. “I decided I would make it on my own, on my terms. Prove myself. Followmydreams, rather than build someone else’s. But how? The only post I could manage was at the theatre, applying cosmetics.”
“The beauty spot,” he blurted out. “You had one, and then you didn’t.”
“Of course you would notice. Because you...” She stopped, throat thick, as she realized the reason. “Because yousawme. You looked at me, listened to me. Gave me a chance.” She bit her lip, then pushed ahead. “Itisall right to rely on others again, Julian. To have people you love and friends you worry about. It doesn’t make you less.”
“Not anymore.” He rose from his chair without looking at her. “Guests will be arriving soon. I must prepare for the ball.”
“Oh.” She scrambled to her feet. “Of course. I’ll just—”
Julian took a step toward the door, then turned around and pulled her into his embrace. He kissed her as though he drew renewed life from her lips, her tongue, her taste. He kissed her until she was breathless and trembling, until his own breath was ragged and his hands rough and demanding. Then he jerked back and stalked away without a word.
He didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the night.
Chapter 17
Julian leapt from his carriage in front of The Cloven Hoof, a gaming hell perched at the very edge of respectability.
That was how Julian felt, too. Teetering on the edge, his final fall determined by the direction of the wind.
He should not have investigated Miss Thorne.Unity. He should not have investigated Unity. Or first-named her. What the devil had he been thinking?
Shewas the upstanding one of the two. If he had just waited, she would have told him the things he’d paid a third party to find out. Once she trusted him enough to share.
Which she would have, if left to her own devices. Unity made close connections every time she stepped out of her house. The staff at her cousin’s club adored her, the owner of that gaming hell, the actresses at the theatre. She’d made friends with Julian’s night butler from the first how-do-you-do.
It was not a skill Julian possessed, but a trait he very much admired. He could surround himself with scores of people, but Unity managed tobelongwherever she went.
Julian wanted to deserve her trust. More than that, he wanted to deserveher. Which was precisely why he should not have invited her to use his first name. No one had called him that in years. Why start now? Knowing their friendship could go nowhere?
He nodded at the burly guard securing the entrance. “Vigo.”
“Your Grace.” Vigo opened the door to allow him in.
The interior was as Julian remembered. The tables busy, the bar crowded. He met the harried gaze of one of the serving girls, and began to thread his way through the pockets of whist and faro toward the considerably quieter dining parlor on the opposite side of the gambling salon.
He knew what he wanted. Julianalwaysknew what he wanted.
It wasn’t Unity.
