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“Think nothing of it,” the Duchess said, turning to her friend again. “Mrs. Atkins, it has been far too long.”
“That it has,” Cordelia said, taking her friend’s hands. “Allow me to introduce my family. This is my brother-in-law, the Earl of Branigan.” At Cordelia’s gesture, Rufus bowed deeply. “And these are my nieces, Lady Hermione Rogers and Lady Phoebe Rogers.” The sisters curtsied in turn, just as Rufus cleared his throat to speak.
Hermione could see the indelicacy coming before her father even spoke, for he was peering past the Duchess, trying to get a better view of the door. She winced, preparing herself for his next words. He hadn’t even said a single word to the Duchess yet, and the first thing he was to say would be impertinent indeed.
“Where is the Duke?” he asked.
Chapter Two
“Another drink, Your Grace?” a bawd asked as she walked past Antony, carrying a round brandy glass half full of golden-brown liquid.
“No, thank you,” Antony said, turning to look away from the woman and down at the cards in his hand.
The gentleman’s club was one he occupied frequently along with his brother, who was currently somewhere else with another young lady that worked at the place. Antony had already had his fun for the night though and was keen to pass the time with the cards instead of the young ladies that kept swarming past him.
“Are you sure I cannot persuade you, Your Grace?” the bawd asked, easily slipping into his lap and pushing the glass of brandy under his nose. He jerked his head, turning away from both the cards and the other gentlemen at the table. “You have already seen what good company I can be,” she whispered in his ear.
“You have other customers, I believe, who would prefer your attention,” Antony said with restraint, trying to ease her off his lap though she refused to be moved. Instead, she clamped one knee down by his hip and passed the brandy glass under his lips another time. He leaned as far back from her in the chair as the structure would allow. “I do not visit the same woman twice, my apologies,” he said with a kind smile.
“Why ever not?” she asked, her face showing her instant displeasure as she stiffened in his lap.
“I have my reasons,” he answered her, having no intention whatsoever of telling her any more than that. It was the rule by which he led his life these days; when he took his pleasure at clubs such as these, he was certain never to be with the same woman more than once. It was how he could ensure that lust never developed into any warm affection as that possibility was too awful to bear.
“Perhaps I could persuade you that you might like more time with me?” the bawd leaned toward him again, whispering in his ear. She was attractive, he couldn’t deny it, with long brown hair that curled at her waist and dark, enticing eyes, but he never broke his rule.
“My apologies,” he said, this time managing to achieve his aim when he pushed her off his lap. “It is my rule. Go and peddle your wares elsewhere.” To his dismay, she responded by laying an arm across his shoulders, refusing to leave at all.
“You seem to be a favorite here tonight, Your Grace,” another gentleman at the table said, smirking as he stared at him over the cards. “No lady lusts after the rest of us so.” The other gentlemen laughed at the table as they continued their game of poker.
“Have no fear,” Antony sighed with the words. “It is not me she lusts after but my title.” The bawd beside him jerked, her face turning to him with wide eyes. He stared back, unrelenting in the strength of his gaze, as he was keen to show her how he had known exactly what she was doing from the beginning.
It was always that way. No woman wanted to spend time with him for the sake of actually spending time withhim.They wanted his title and his money. The bawd beside him would not be the first to think she could entice him into making a proposal if she impressed him enough.
“Take your leave,” he urged the woman quietly. “I will not be trapped by anyone.” He knew the words were to the point, even curt and callous, despite the soft tone he’d used. The bawd did not take the insult lightly. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned the brandy glass over.
He felt the run of the liquid across his knee and his trouser leg without having to turn to see it. The bawd placed the glass firmly on the table, in emphasis of her anger, before she stalked away.
The pained sounds that were made around the card table by the gentlemen echoed Antony’s own frustration as he tried to mop up the excess brandy spilled across his trousers.
“Her liking for you soured very quickly,” the gentleman to his left observed.
“It always does,” he acknowledged, masking the pain he often felt at such a thought behind a smile as he picked up his cards again. “Whose turn is it?”
As he lapsed into playing the cards, he kept glancing around periodically, searching the club for any sign of his brother. The club was a grand one indeed, despite the small size of Lyme Regis, the seaside town it resided in. The proprietor used to own clubs in London, and when they opened this establishment, Antony had seen the same fashions he would find in London brought here.
Each gaming table that had been set up was lined with expensive crystalware and golden rimmed candles that burned brightly as they filled the air with gentle smoke.
Between the tables, each gentleman was waited on by a young lady, but their duties did not just reside with serving drinks or offering pipes and tobacco. They offered pleasures of the bed too, and chambers beyond the closest door were created just for that purpose.
Antony had often visited this club over the last few years. It was the only place he allowed himself to look at a woman and to lust after a woman, even if that lust was enjoyed for a short time only.
“Your Grace, you have taken your eye off the ball tonight!” the gentleman to his left chuckled, earning Antony’s gaze again. He looked to see that his betting chip pile was empty, and it was his turn to make a bet. “What do you bid?”
“Let me see…” Antony lowered his cards and fished in his jacket, searching for any extra cash, but he’d only brought so much with him, and that money now resided in the center of the table. “It seems I must wager an object rather than any more cash tonight.”
“What of that jacket?” the gentleman across the table who had been winning all night asked, leaning across the surface. “Mighty fine, that is.” He was a naval captain, stationed in the bay, and had often been seen in this club, almost as much as Antony had been.
“Captain Jacobs, you wish the chance to win my jacket?” Antony asked, unable to stop his laughter at the idea.
