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“Thomas informed me,” Lucan snapped.
Ainsley smiled. “You need to get down there soon. The lady is oblivious, but I have seen more than a few curious looks aimed her way, hungry looks,” he drawled.
Ignoring him, Lucan left his office with the firm intention of escorting her away from the premises.
“I have told Thomas to escort her to the smaller ballroom,” Ainsley said behind him, laughter rife in his tone.
Their private apartments and offices were on the third floor of the building, so it would take Lucan a few minutes to reach her. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he forced himself to walk down the halls at a measured pace. It would not do for anyone to see him running, especially one of his interfering friends.
He descended to the second floor and walked along the hallway to the door leading to the smaller ballroom. He entered and scanned the crowd from the balcony looking for her unique blond hair. The reckless fool probably did not even realize how recognizable she was. The highest echelons of society were members of Decadence. All of his patrons were gentry mixed with the haute monde. She could be recognized by anyone.
The idea of her being at the club rattled him. Whatever distance he placed between them while he plotted to bring down Calydon was necessary. For Constance made him yearn for the impossible, to put aside his vengeance and pursue a life with her. She was proving to be his most dangerous opponent yet. No other had ever made him doubt his chosen path as she did now. Not even his closest friends had the power to sway him with their arguments. But she had the capability to do so with a mere stare. And she was here.
Lucan stood transfixed when he identified her. She wore an icy blue gown cut to showcase her exquisite charms. He would recognize her shape anywhere, the sharp but feminine shape of her face, and sensually curved lips. She had been ingenious enough to don a vivid red wig that complemented her creamy skin tone in the most alluring manner. The eye mask she also wore served to disguise her even further. If he had not been intimately acquainted with her, he would not have known he was looking at Lady Constance. Not so foolish after all, but still reckless.
A slow appreciative whistle came from his left, and Marcus came up beside him. Lucan gritted his teeth in annoyance for his friend seemed as equally transfixed.
“Who is she?”
“Out of bounds,” Lucan said flatly. He could feel Marcus’s astonishment. It was unlike Lucan to be possessive of any female.
Marcus’ gaze slashed back to her. “My God, is that Lady Constance? I have heard about her charms from Ainsley and the Reverend, but I thought they exaggerated.”
At Lucan’s silence Marcus chuckled. “It is, isn’t it? I had heard the lady to be blond. But from the way your hands are digging into the railings—”
“It is her,” Lucan said cutting off Marcus’ taunting.
Lucan forcibly relaxed his hand and released the balcony railing.
“Fearless little thing isn’t she?”
“I think you mean reckless,” Lucan growled.
Marcus glanced at him in apparent bemusement. “I think her presence here tonight is all you need to draw Calydon into a deeper trap of your making. Yet you seem angry with her.” He continued in his taunting drawl, “Curious indeed. I am beginning to think the Reverend is correct in his assertions. You need to marry the lady.”
Lucan narrowed his gaze, taking in her fascination with the women dancing the can-can. Someone moved to stand beside her, and he recognized Lady Ralston from her posture alone. Both of them were oblivious to the various stares directed their way. All from men, and from the hunger in their regard, he knew without a doubt what they were thinking.
“Damn it!” he was thoroughly annoyed with both women. The risk they took amazed him.
“And who is that?” Marcus asked. His gazed directed solely on Constance’s companion.
“Lady Ralston.”
“Is she off bounds as well?”
“No, but tread carefully. The lady is too fragile for your attentions. I can assure you she is not here for any dalliance.”
Marcus frowned. “Fragile?”
“Her husband was not the most pleasant fellow.”
Marcus stiffened. “I forgot you have a dossier on almost everyone in contact with Lady Constance. So the lady is married.”
Lucan threw a curious look at Marcus. He sounded disappointed. Too disappointed. Lady Ralston was a fetching young lady. Her dark hair was cropped into short riotous curls, and without a mane of hair distracting an observer, one could easily immerse themselves in the prettiness of her pixie features. But it was her turquoise eyes that were her most stunning feature.
“Widowed,” Lucan imparted. “She married at seventeen to the Earl of Ralston and was widowed two years later. It has been two years since he passed, and the lady has not shown favor to anyone. She has been hounded by a few to become their mistress, a notable attempt was made by the Viscount of Morley, but the lady declined all offers. Instead she chose to work as a ladies companion, despite the amount of debt the late earl left.”
“What are you going to do in relation to Lady Constance? It is evident the lady did not agree with whatever you said to her in the gardens,” Marcus said after a few quiet moments.
“It seems I need to be more brutal,” Lucan mused.
Without waiting for Marcus’s reply, Lucan descended the stairs and headed toward Constance. He did not trust the curl of anticipation that traveled inside of him. He hoped he had the strength to turn her away and not succumb to the raging lust that leapt to life inside of him the moment he had been told she was in his club. If he took her, he would ruin her further when he now wanted her protected. For though the Reverend and Ainsley encouraged him, he would never marry her, no matter how tempting the thought.
Chapter Twelve
Constance felt Lucan before she saw him. She glanced up and spied him prowling toward her. He was exquisitely dressed in black trousers and a pristine white shirt that emphasized the broad width of his shoulders, and a black tailcoat cut to fit his frame superbly. The only dash of color was his dark toned silver waistcoat. She guarded herself against the pleasure tingling through her. The man who walked toward her was coolly distant, and no sign of welcome or even pleasure at seeing her showed on his face.
“Why are you here?” he demanded upon reaching her.
She bit back her instinctive angry retort. “I would like to see you in private,” she said firmly. “I risked much to speak with you, and I would welcome an audience with you.”
His eyes hardened, and she tried not to fidget. She must appear resolute and unflappable.
“Welcome to Decadence, Miss Hastings, I am Marcus Stone. Please allow me to entertain your companion while you confer with Hi
s Grace in private,” the man who had walked up beside Lucan drawled smoothly. Mr. Stone was a handsome sort, but in a rough way. His dark brown hair was long enough to be tied in a queue, and his pale blue eyes seemed to laugh at her.
Lucan’s lips flattened and the glare he directed at Mr. Stone shriveled her inside, even though it was not aimed at her. Mr. Stone only smiled and held his arm out to Charlotte. Constance heard Charlotte’s soft indrawn breath, but she laid her hand on his sleeve. Constance glanced at Charlotte and was surprised to see a blush on her cheeks.
“I…thank you, Mr. Stone,” Constance replied, unsure of what else to say.
He inclined his head and walked away with Charlotte, who looked over her shoulder and mouthed for Constance to be careful. Constance nodded in confirmation and gave her a reassuring smile.
She glanced at Lucan to see him watching Mr. Stone and Charlotte with a neutral mien.
“Will she be safe with Mr. Stone?”
Cold silver eyes looked down on her. “Lady Ralston is a widow. I am sure she knew what Mr. Stone wanted when he led her away.”
She gaped at him. “Are you saying he has designs on Charlotte?” Constance squeaked, wondering if that was what she had seen on the man’s face while he looked at her friend. His regard had been unsettling.
“She is in capable hands,” he said flatly.
Constance considered his closed expression for a few seconds. “Will we go somewhere to converse?”
He stared at her for the longest while without responding and nervousness shivered inside of her.
“Follow me,” he clipped.
She released the pent up breath she had been holding and walked beside him. It had been a gamble that he would accede to her demand. She had fully expected him to put up a greater fight and possibly drag her outside to her waiting carriage. Without speaking, he ascended the stairs that led from the room. After climbing a second flight of carpeted stairs, the din of everything droned away, and she could hear nothing from the hallway along which they walked. Then he opened an oak door and she entered what looked like a library.
