How to Best a Marquess (Raven Club), page 5
Ellie’s requirements were simple. She sought a comfortable place for repose while Violet Lasher arranged for a lady to disappear into the countryside—far away from her abusive husband or male family member.
Violet’s contacts were vast, and Ellie marveled at the courtesan’s ability to alter a lady’s appearance and hide her away forever. Violet did not just cut a lady’s hair with shears and clothe her differently. Violet transformed them. Hair dyes, cosmetics, and clothing all came into play. Ellie’s efforts could not succeed without Violet.
Ellie tallied the items she required in her mind just as raised voices sounded from the front of the shop.
A very distinctive male voice.
Oh no. She had little time to grab her reticule when Hugh Vere burst into the room. Alice was right behind him.
“I tried to stop him, my lady,” Alice said, her expression pained.
Ellie struggled to calm her racing heart. “It’s fine, Alice.”
Mr. Weber appeared in the doorway. “Is all well?”
“Of course,” Ellie said, her mind quickly coming up with an excuse. “The marquess is a friend. He offered to drive us home in his carriage.”
Mr. Weber’s expression eased. “Is the bed to your liking, my lady? I can arrange to have it delivered straightaway.”
Her stomach tilted at the mention of the bed in front of Hugh. She knew it would unleash a slew of questions from him, but she had little choice. She needed the bed for her private chamber. “Yes, please arrange for it,” she said to the shopkeeper.
“A bed?” Hugh asked.
Ellie’s expression strained, but she kept her smile. “Alice’s elderly aunt has come to live with her, and Alice requires a new bed. Isn’t that correct, Alice?”
Alice paled, her skin turning the color of old bone, but she caught on quickly and nodded in agreement. “Aunt Henrietta is unwell.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, miss,” Mr. Weber said.
“Oh, yes. A horrible case of gout,” Alice said. She took the shopkeeper’s arm, glanced at Ellie, then steered the shopkeeper away, all the while chattering about her aunt’s “condition.” Ellie was left alone with Hugh in the back room.
She attempted to sweep by him, but he was quick to grasp her arm. “Not so fast. I did not appreciate being abandoned in a draper’s shop.”
“You asked to accompany me. You did not say everywhere. Besides, you were getting along marvelously with the draper.”
He shook his head. “I suspected subterfuge.”
“Oh?”
“You have a tell.”
“A tell?”
“Your lips twitch. Right here.” He stepped close and grazed a spot by her mouth with his finger. She tensed. Her lips tingled from the light touch. She wanted him to touch her mouth, and even more ridiculous, she wanted to lick his finger.
Instead, she took a breath and glared at him. “No one has ever mentioned a twitch before.”
“Perhaps they weren’t looking at your lips as closely as I have.”
Now he was taunting her. Teasing her in the maddening way only he could. “I won’t apologize for slipping away,” she said.
“I didn’t expect it.”
“Hmm.”
“Why do you need a bed in the club?”
Her mind spun at his change in topic. He was smooth, she’d give him that much. “I don’t. Remember, Alice needs it for her sick—”
He shot her a disbelieving look. “You don’t expect me to believe that story, do you? Tell me why you need a bed.”
How much to tell? She instinctively knew she could not fool him with another lie. She could be truthful, but not confess everything. “Fine,” she said. “There is a separate room adjacent to the women’s gambling room where I intend to keep the bed. Women may get tired and need to rest in the ladies’ gambling room.”
“Rest? I thought the intended goal is for them to empty their reticules at the tables.”
“Ladies have different needs from men. They seek excitement at the tables, but they also like to talk and…maybe rest. From my observation, men do not share this preference.”
A look of smug male acknowledgment crossed his features. “By briefly rest, do you mean entertain a lover?”
Of course he would reach such a conclusion. He was a man, after all. She thought of her options, then decided it couldn’t hurt for him to believe this. It might deter further questions.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I will not protest if a lady chooses to rest alone or with another.”
To her surprise, a flash of anger crossed his face. “Oh? And what would your brother say? Is he aware of his sister’s plans to improve the profitability of the club by turning it into a brothel?”
He would think the worst. Her nervousness at Hugh’s inquiries suddenly veered into anger. “Why do you keep bringing up my brother? It is becoming tiresome.”
“You need reminding.”
“If you must know, I do not intend to turn it into a house of ill repute. No money shall exchange hands. Only if a lady is fatigued or drinks a bit too much wine, then she shall make use of the bed. The women’s room will be for gambling only.”
He studied her, his eyes traveling over her face as if he could reach inside her head and read her thoughts. “Then I need not fear of your plans,” he said.
His arrogant tone proclaimed that her efforts could never compete with his, and that he would undoubtedly be the victor. She glared. “You should. I still intend to win the club.”
His eyebrow rose. “You do not yet know all of my plans.”
“I’m still confident that I’ll win.”
He cocked his head to the side and continued to watch her in an intense way that made heat run down her spine. “I wish I had been there to see it.”
She blinked. He had a maddening way of continuing to change the topic. “See what?”
“See you grow into the woman you are today. You were always sweet and lovely, especially your enchanting freckles.”
Enchanting freckles? She made a mental note to vigorously rub more of the expensive depilatory she’d purchased on the bridge of her nose tonight.
“But now you are temptation itself.”
Temptation? She would not succumb to such blatant masculine nonsense. He might be used to women fawning over him, but she was not one of them. Liar. Then why did his words make her heart beat fast? She must never let him know.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Your charm will not work on me.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “I’m wounded.”
“It’s true.”
“Then you won’t worry if I try.”
Her heart slammed against her chest. “Try what?”
“This.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers.
She froze, afraid to breathe. He touched her with nothing but his lips, but it was as if iron bands held her in place. He brushed against her mouth once…twice. Featherweight kisses that surprised her with their gentleness, but no less seductive.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you properly since our ringside kiss.” His lips continued to brush against hers as he spoke.
He had?
He kissed the corners of her mouth, then his tongue licked the seam of her lips. The velvet warmth of his kiss was mesmerizing, and her lips parted of their own volition. She took a step forward, and her tongue met his, tentative at first, then more eagerly. A low growl came from his chest as he pulled her to him and deepened the kiss.
Oh my. It was everything she’d ever remembered and so much more.
He was all hard muscle and sinew, so different from her soft form. His kiss was like tasting a bit of the sky and the scorching sun. Heat engulfed her, traveling down her spine and warming her limbs. She heard a mewling noise. Shocked, she realized it had come from her.
More.
Her brain seemed to freeze, and her body, her treacherous body, pulsed in awareness of the man. Danger, her mind warned. Delicious, her body answered. It was an infuriatingly arousing combination. This was Hugh. The boy who had captured her heart and crushed it in one moment in a stranger’s gardens. The man who came crashing back into her life and challenged her for all she’d ever wanted.
She wanted his kiss to last and to end. It was torturous.
Even more maddening, he was the one to break the kiss.
“Ellie,” he said simply as he gazed down at her.
The mention of her name brought her to her senses. “That was a mistake.”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.” His breath was warm and sweet against her lips. “I was wrong to treat you as I did years ago. Can you forget the past?”
It was as if he dumped a bucket of ice water on her head. “Forget the past? I caught you kissing Isabella West in the gardens of a ball. The same gardens where we were to meet.”
A flash of remorse crossed his features. “That was years ago.”
“Nothing has changed,” she snapped.
“What if I told you it has for me?”
She felt an overwhelming need to either kiss him or slap him. Fortunately, the latter impulse won out. Her slap echoed in the storage room.
She froze in surprise at what she’d done. She’d never exhibited violence before, never struck a person.
“I’ll allow that once.”
His tone sent a chill down her spine. It had been years since she’d known him. He’d gone off to fight in the military. He was, in essence, a stranger. And she’d slapped him. She didn’t fear physical harm, but the warning in his eyes resonated all the same.
“Do not think I am the same foolish girl,” she said.
He clenched his jaw and touched his cheek. She’d left a red mark. “I never thought you foolish.”
“Then you must think me an idiot now to fall for your weak attempts at seduction.”
“Weak? You kissed me back quite enthusiastically.”
His response angered her, and she grasped at the emotion, let it consume her and replace the weakness she’d experienced at his kiss. “You want the club. I now realize that you will use any means to get it.”
His brows drew downward. “Our kiss had nothing to do with the club.”
She wasn’t sure. He was a handsome man who could easily charm and seduce. She’d known women foolish enough to ruin their reputations and fall prey to scoundrels. She never thought she was weak enough to be one of them. But now she understood the powerful allure of a skilled seducer.
She was saved from having to come up with an answer when Alice appeared in the doorway and cleared her throat. “Your carriage is waiting outside, my lord.”
Relief swept through Ellie. She didn’t want to address his response regarding their kiss. She couldn’t make it to the carriage fast enough. To her further dismay, Hugh captured her arm and was right by her side.
Chapter Six
The next day, Ellie was determined to keep her mind on her work and forget Hugh’s kiss. That didn’t mean, however, that she would ignore him. If he had discerned her plans for the club, then she had better discover his.
Locating Hugh in the boxing room in the back of the club was not difficult. She expected to find the marquess speaking with Brooks about how best to add another ring or more space for standing spectators to watch the fights. Instead, she found Hugh shirtless and performing some kind of exercise. A steel bar was mounted between two walls in an alcove, and he was pulling himself up to it with his arms, then slowly lowering himself down inch by inch. Then he repeated the effort.
She halted in mid-stride at the sight. His biceps flexed with each movement. His shoulders strained.
Heavens. There were muscles everywhere.
He hadn’t yet noticed her. She was standing to the side of the roped ring, and the soft leather soles of her slippers were silent on the hardwood floor. Memories of their kiss returned in a rush of emotion, and wings fluttered in her belly as she watched him. She’d only touched him through his clothing, and still his heat and strength had left an impression on her. What would it feel like to run her fingers across all that bronzed skin? All night she’d forced herself to forget his kiss, but now, standing here watching him, she realized her efforts had been in vain.
She cleared her throat. Loudly.
His green gaze snapped to hers, but to her chagrin, he persisted in his activity.
He strained to pull himself up, then slowly lowered himself.
“Have you come to spy on me?” he asked, his voice gruff from his exertions.
Despite her resolve to remain distant, her throat was suddenly dry. “Spy? You were the one who insisted on watching me. I decided to do the same.”
“You snuck away and left me in the draper’s shop with an overzealous shopkeeper.”
Up. Then down again.
A rivulet of sweat rolled down his chest, traveled down his abdomen, slipped through a sprinkling of dark hair, and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.
Indecent. Ungentlemanly.
“You cannot blame me. I don’t trust you,” she said.
“You made that perfectly clear.”
Was he still furious at her for leaving him in the draper’s shop? Was he trying to intimidate her with these calisthenics?
She cleared her throat. “Well? What are your plans to win against me? All I see is…this,” she said, sweeping her hand toward him.
He released the bar to land on the balls of his feet. Somehow the movement was graceful and predatory at the same time and reminded her of a jungle cat. His eyes met hers, his chest slightly rising and falling from his efforts.
Had she wanted his attention? He was giving it to her now. She fought the urge to back up a step.
He reached for a cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow, then his chest. Her gaze followed. It was impossible not to watch him.
He possessed a perfect male form. She didn’t remember him like this. He’d been a lean youth when he’d held her all those years ago. But now, he was… He was huge. It was how she’d attempted to describe him to her sister. No words could do him justice. He should put a shirt on.
He had to put a shirt on.
“You want to know?” he asked.
Her eyes snapped back to his, and her cheeks felt flushed. She was suddenly over-warm, and her lungs strained in her corset. “Know what?” Had he noticed her staring? How could he not have? How humiliating.
One dark eyebrow arched, as if he knew her wicked thoughts and was perfectly capable of satisfying each one. “Do you want to know what I have planned?”
“Yes…yes, of course. That’s why I’m here.” Certainly not to watch him. Never that. “Perhaps you should dress before we converse.”
His lips twitched, but thankfully he made no comment. He tossed the towel on the roped ring and reached for a shirt he’d thrown across a wooden chair. His slipped it over his head. The cotton had been rolled up and revealed his forearms. Without a cravat, she could still see the corded muscles of his neck and the sprinkling of hair on his chest.
She’d asked him to don a shirt, but that did little to cease her racing heart. She dragged her gaze away.
“I intend to increase the number of boxing matches by adding more rings,” he said, pointing to the empty space in the back of the cavernous room. “Two matches can occur back to back, or even at the same time.”
“I see.” Her mind started to calculate all the extra money the matches would bring into the club. It was a good plan, but—
“I also intend to add croupiers.”
She frowned. “You plan to add gambling tables in the boxing room?”
“No. Just the croupiers. I want them walking around and taking bets before, during, and between fights. The way it stands now, there is only one man in the corner of the room taking wagers. The room is packed during the fights, so no one can even reach him. But if I add more croupiers and have them walking through the crowd, I believe I can triple the revenue.”
She was impressed. It wasn’t something she’d thought of. She was handling the books more and more, especially since Grace was nearing her birth, and Ellie knew precisely how lucrative the fights could be.
“And as I already mentioned, I plan to invite the champions to attend. I know Gentleman John Jackson has his own boxing salon, but I hope to have him as a guest or a referee. There won’t be an empty spectators’ seat or a place to stand.”
His plan had serious merit. He was right. Champions did have their own salons, but with an invitation from the Marquess of Deveril to the Raven Club, it just might be enough to entice them to attend. If one champion came, then the others would feel compelled to show as well.
For the first time, Ellie experienced a true nervousness that Hugh Vere might win the club. No matter how certain she was that a ladies’ gambling room could bring in money, Hugh’s endeavor could easily rival her plans.
No. Too much was at stake. Women were depending on her. Violet Lasher was as well.
“I see,” was all she managed to say. She experienced a burning need to get back to the unfinished women’s gambling room, to ensure her plan was more successful than his. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to accomplish.”
He shrugged, then picked up what looked like a short iron bar. He raised and lowered it in his hand. With his rolled-up shirtsleeves, the muscles in his forearms bulged—different muscles from the ones she’d seen when he had been pulling himself up from the mounted bar. She wanted to reach out and feel if his forearm was as hard as it looked. His masculine form was so different from hers. It was fascinating.
She was aware of the harsh, uneven rhythm of her own breathing, and she hadn’t lifted a finger. She blinked and turned to leave, then halted. Before she departed, she realized that she had one more item to address. “I apologize for striking you. It is unlike me.”
He lowered the weight but did not release it. “Why did you?” he asked.
She struggled with the words. “You said things. Unnerving things that reminded me of the past.”
His intense gaze met hers and tugged at the deepest corner of her heart. “Would it help if I told you kissing Isabelle that night in the gardens was the worst thing I’ve ever done? I did not enjoy it.”
