How to Best a Marquess (Raven Club), page 7
“My mother and father. They would be ashamed if I…if I left the baron.” Her voice was small, broken.
“Do they know how he shows his affection?”
“I tried to tell them. They suggested I try harder to please my husband, and that my plight is the result of his displeasure.”
Anger blossomed in Ellie’s chest. How could the woman’s parents be so cruel? Their refusal to aid their daughter was as unconscionable as the baron’s physical beatings in Ellie’s opinion. She knew divorce was scandalous, but if a husband took his fists to Ellie, she knew without a doubt, Ian would protect her from an abusive spouse. “And you? How do you feel about your husband?”
For the first time, Lady Willoughby met Ellie’s gaze straight on. “I hate him.”
…
Something was going on in the hidden room.
Brooks entered and left twice. The large man tugged on his collar, then a few minutes later, the paneled door swung open and Ellie exited. Whatever they were doing inside had continued.
Damn it.
He was going to find out the truth.
Hugh knew the four-poster bed had already been delivered. He’d seen workmen carry it in piece by piece along with a rolled Oriental carpet. He still couldn’t understand why Ellie wanted a bed in the ladies’ gambling room.
He’d wanted to believe her excuse that a lady might need to rest, but then common sense had taken hold. That, and he’d seen Brooks and Ellie enter and leave the room together more than once.
He was truly a fool.
He might have no right where Ellie was concerned, but he refused to allow her to have a liaison with Brooks.
Not when she’d kissed Hugh with such passion. Not when she’d made those little mewling noises that had kept him up at night thinking of her.
How could she forget their shared kiss so easily? Christ, he’d thought of little else over the past two days.
Perhaps it was his vanity. He’d never cared about a lover leaving his bed for another. He’d never entertained them for more than a brief time before moving on.
But this was different.
She was different.
Hugh waited for Brooks to walk away before making his move. Ellie remained in the room.
Perfect.
Hugh pressed the latch, opened the door, and slipped inside. He found her bent over the roulette table, reading a sheaf of papers. She straightened when she spotted him.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked.
“I was looking for you. You weren’t in the office, the boxing room, or strolling the casino floor.”
“I wasn’t aware I was supposed to keep you apprised of my whereabouts,” Ellie said.
“I spotted you enter this room. I also saw Brooks enter and leave here. Twice.”
“So?”
“What’s going on between you two?”
“Careful,” she said, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “You sound jealous.”
He guffawed. It sounded strained to his own ears. “Jealous? I’ve never experienced the emotion.”
“Thank you for reminding me of your ways. Now, I’ve told you of my plans with this room. Brooks is merely helping me carrying out my vision.”
“Your vision? I hope by that you mean moving furnishings and heavy carpets.”
“Precisely.”
He glanced around the room, noting the furnishings and curtains. A settee and a table and chairs were situated around the perimeter of the room. A large Oriental carpet covered the hardwood floors. Blue silk drapes artfully framed the walls in a luxurious display. A bed was notably absent, but then he recalled Ellie telling him it was to be in a separate chamber.
“You chose the blue silk,” he said.
She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I told you in the draper’s that I agreed with your suggestion. Now why are you really here? I find it hard to believe you burst inside this room to see if I have taken a lover. I think you are here to see how far I’ve come? To see what I still require?”
He should say yes. His motivations for seeking her out today should have to do with their rivalry. But it was furthest from the truth. He’d burst in here not to observe how much she’d accomplished, but to confirm she was not with another man. That there was nothing going on between her and Brooks.
Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. “Do you ever recall our kiss?”
She paled a shade, bringing the freckles on her nose to higher contrast. Damn if he didn’t find it charming.
“I said it was a mistake and to forget what occurred,” she said.
“Forget it? Impossible. I’ve thought of little else.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “You cannot confront me and accuse me of having a secret amorous affair with the club’s head guard and then talk about our shared kiss like you want to repeat it. You had more romantic flair years ago.”
He wanted to haul her to his chest and show her just how much flair he had, how much he wanted to kiss and lick her until she cried out in pleasure. She was driving him to distraction. Perhaps that was her game? It had been five years. She was a lovely woman in her prime. She might not have been intimate with Brooks, but what if she wasn’t innocent and had taken other lovers?
He couldn’t blame her, yet…yet the idea of any other male touching her made his gut clench.
“Rest assured if I were trying to seduce you, you would know it.”
She leaned away from the table, the simple movement smooth and enticing. The sliver of skin at her collarbone was like fine porcelain, and he wanted to press his lips against the sensitive pulse at her neck to taste the tantalizing skin.
She met his gaze, her blue eyes watchful, and he wondered if she had the slightest inkling of his thoughts. “Hmm. What else do you want then? To kiss me again?”
He did. Desperately. But he also knew she was challenging him, and he wouldn’t fall for her ploy. If he said yes, if he made the slightest move, she’d refuse him in a heartbeat.
No, he’d bide his time. Slowly entice her and bring out the burning sweetness that seemed captive within her.
“If you’re finished with me, you should leave,” she said.
He wasn’t finished with her. Not even close. But he nodded and stepped aside. “As you wish.”
He caught her sidelong look. The slightest hesitation and the parting of her lips. She was surprised he hadn’t tried to stop her, to kiss her again.
Good. If he was in torment, it was only fair that she suffered, too.
Chapter Eight
Outside the baker’s shop stood a boy selling warm rolls to morning passersby from a tray hanging around his neck. Ellie purchased two rolls, then headed for the alleyway between the baker’s shop and the Cock and Bull tavern.
Violet’s carriage appeared soon after, and Ellie crossed the street to join her inside the conveyance. The courtesan wore a blood-red cloak with a hood, and wisps of blond hair framed her heart-shaped face.
Ellie handed her one of the hot rolls. “Lady Willoughby has agreed.”
Violet took a small bite, then nodded. “Good. I will arrange for a conveyance to take her to Kent.”
“Kent? I thought you would send her to Scotland, as you did with the other lady.”
Violet swallowed before answering. “I cannot send everyone to Scotland. Besides, Lady Willoughby is a difficult matter. Her husband will not stop looking for her.”
“So? Eventually, he will cease his efforts when he cannot locate her. He will assume she ran away with a lover.”
Violet tapped her lip with a forefinger. “It won’t work with the baron. He will never cease searching for his wayward wife. He may even hire investigators to find her. We can never be truly certain of her safety from the man. We have to do more.”
“Such as?”
“Fake her death.”
Ellie blinked in surprise. They’d never attempted something so dangerous in the past. “How? We’ve never accomplished such an undertaking.”
“An accident.”
Ellie’s mind spun with possibilities. “It must be believable. Witnesses would be preferable.”
“I will think upon it and send a missive to meet with you before the end of the month. Until then, do not whisper a word of our conversation, not even to your sister. Everything must be kept secret.”
“Of course. But what about Lady Willoughby?” Ellie asked.
“I’ll leave it to your judgement. If she needs time to decide, then she should be told. Meanwhile, continue to invite her to the Raven Club and befriend her.”
…
The second time Lady Willoughby appeared at the Raven Club, Ellie was waiting for her on the casino floor. It was a busy night, and all the tables were crowded with gamblers hoping to have a streak of luck. The gentlemen were dressed in dark-colored coats and trousers. Beside them, the women looked vivid and colorful in gowns of satins and silks and elaborate spangled and feathered masks. Lady Willoughby was dressed similarly in a green gown, but she was careful not to remain long near any one person. If one looked closely at her, it appeared as if her nerves twitched with a restless energy.
Ellie watched the woman, her own nerves prickling. She wove through the crowd and stopped by one of the macao tables. Careful not to look directly at her, she edged closer. “I’m glad you came.”
Lady Willoughby kept her gaze fixed on the players’ hands but nodded once. “I thought about what you said.”
“And?”
“May we speak in private?”
Ellie turned and walked away, aware that Lady Willoughby followed her. If anyone were watching them, it would appear that they both tired of the game and headed off to seek different entertainment.
Rather than go to the paneled door that led to her unfinished women’s gaming room, Ellie decided to take Lady Willoughby elsewhere. Ever since Hugh had burst in and found Ellie alone in the room, she didn’t want to risk being caught again. He was observant, and if she was truthful to herself, his presence had disturbed her in too many ways.
Ellie had been certain he’d wanted to kiss her again, but he’d simply left. It’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?
So why did she still feel disgruntled?
She had been so sure her heart was guarded from his charms. After all these years, she’d convinced herself she was immune to him. Her heart might be guarded, but not her treacherous body.
Despite what she’d told him, she had relived their kiss. Many times.
Do not think of it!
She had much more pressing things to accomplish, especially tonight.
She forced her thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. She led Lady Willoughby to the last place Hugh would look tonight. The boxing room in the back of the club. There wasn’t a match this evening, and the doors were locked. She’d seen Hugh lingering by the faro tables for most of the night and talking with a group of men. He was distracted, at least for a good amount of time, and wouldn’t come here.
Once they were away from the thick of the crowd, Lady Willoughby caught up with Ellie. “Aren’t we going to the women’s gambling room?”
“Not this time.”
They’d reached the tall wooden door. Ellie reached for a key in her pocket, inserted it in the lock, and pushed it open. Lady Willoughby followed her inside. The large room was empty and dimly lit. She could vaguely make out the four corners of the boxing ring.
“It’s safe and private here,” Ellie said.
Lady Willoughby removed her mask. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what you said when we’d first met. The baron has been ranting incessantly that he wants his heir, and he’s been…he’s been visiting my bedchamber every night. I dread the evenings. I don’t know how much more I can stand.” A flush crept over her cheeks, whether in shame or desperation or both, it wasn’t clear.
Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. She knew many would consider it the baron’s right to bed his wife, whether or not it was against her will. But the thought of Lord Willoughby forcing himself upon his young wife made bile rise in her throat.
“Do you believe the baron would search for you if you disappeared from London?” Ellie asked.
Pain flickered in the lady’s eyes along with a tired sadness that appeared across her drawn face. “He’d hunt me to his dying day.”
Ellie stared at her, letting her anxiety fuel her own resolve for what needed to be done. “Then we have no choice but to fake your death.”
Lady Willoughby looked at her in shock. “Fake my death? Good heavens, how?”
Ellie hadn’t heard from Violet in days, and she’d rarely reached out to the courtesan in the past. It was not unusual. Violet only contacted her when she had news. Otherwise, it was too risky and could expose not only herself but their working relationship as well.
But Lady Willoughby was desperate to escape her brutish husband. Ellie could see it in her gaze and hear the thread of panic in her voice. She tried not to picture her, trapped in a room with a man twice her size, with nothing to defend herself against his fists and fury.
“I don’t know yet, but we will think of a plan,” Ellie said.
“It’s not possible to—”
Shouts sounded from outside the boxing room. Ellie frowned as she cracked open the door. A large, barrel-shaped man was standing by the entrance arguing with the guard on duty.
Lady Willoughby peered around Ellie’s shoulder and gasped. “Oh God! The baron is here.”
Ellie’s nerves tensed. “Does he know you are here tonight?”
The lady shook her head, her face pale. “I told him I was attending Lady Godfrey’s ball. He must have followed me.”
The liveried man at the door was no match for the physically larger baron. If only Brooks were here, but it was his evening off.
“Stay here. Let me handle this,” Ellie said.
She slipped on her peacock mask and headed for the door. She’d handled disgruntled patrons in the past. The threat of a revoked membership was generally enough to calm their surly disposition after a large loss at one of the tables. She could turn away an angry husband.
As she approached, she sized up the baron. He was a tall, heavyset man. With thinning brown hair, brown eyes, and a bulbous nose, he appeared at least a decade older than his wife. His head rested upon broad shoulders and gave him the appearance that he had no neck.
A trickle of trepidation traveled down Ellie’s spine, but she ignored it. There was no time for hesitation or fear. She needed to get the baron out of the club and far away from his wife. “May I be of assistance, my lord?” Ellie said.
Lord Willoughby glared down at her. He reeked of alcohol, cigar smoke, and barely suppressed anger. “I’m looking for my wife.”
Ellie schooled her expression and lowered her voice. “Your wife? I know all the ladies here tonight, my lord. She is not present.”
“Get out of my way.”
Her pulse began to beat erratically at the threat in his deep voice. He made to move past her, but Ellie stepped in front of him and raised a hand. “I insist you leave. You do not have membership here. Only those who have been admitted are allowed inside.”
The command lingered, and for a moment Ellie believed it would work, but then his red-rimmed eyes glared down at her with annoyance. “Step aside.”
“I said you do not—”
“My wife is here, dammit.”
The liveried servant stepped in front of Ellie and tried to interfere. “The lady is correct.”
Lord Willoughby shoved the guard aside. The man stumbled and hit the back of the door. His astonished expression was like that of a bird flown into a brick wall.
Fear and anger knotted inside her. If the baron searched the place, he would undoubtedly find his wife. The retribution would be fierce, and Ellie could do nothing to stop it.
She needed to summon more men. Enough to forcibly remove the baron. She scanned the floor just as Baron Willoughby grasped her arm to growl in her ear. “Move aside, bitch. No one keeps me from my wife.”
“Remove your hands from the lady.”
Ellie turned at the dark, masculine voice. Hugh stood tall and solid, a look of fury clouding his hard features. Relief washed over her, immediate and sure.
“This is not your fight,” the baron said.
“I said remove your hand.” Hugh’s voice resounded with the force of a whip.
Around them, the casino fell eerily silent. Members turned to stare. The crack of the dice ceased, even the roulette wheel stopped spinning. All eyes followed the unfolding scene with keen interest and anticipation.
Baron Willoughby released Ellie’s arm, and she stepped back. She suppressed the urge to rub her arm where his cruel fingers had dug into her flesh.
The brute glanced at Ellie, then glared at Hugh. “I’m not interested in her. I want my wife. Now.”
“She also said to leave.”
Perhaps if the baron were sober, he’d notice the deadly gleam in Hugh’s gaze.
They stared each other down, one angry male against another. The contrast was riveting. Hugh was younger, but no less threatening, and for the first time, she could clearly see the military bearing in his stance and in the hard glint in his eyes. The baron was older and used to being a master in his own domain, especially when it came to his fragile wife.
Hugh spoke slowly, as if restraining himself. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Instead of listening, Baron Willoughby took a step forward and raised his fist. It was a mistake.
Hugh dodged the blow and struck out. A crack sounded as the baron stumbled and fell backward. He clutched his nose, and blood seeped through his fingers. “You bastard! You broke my nose!”
Hugh responded with fire. “You’re fortunate that’s all I broke. Get out. Now. Do not return and never touch the lady again.”
Baron Willoughby turned, tripped once, then fled the Raven Club into the street as if a pack of wild hounds were snapping at his heels. Ellie watched wide-eyed, mouth agape.
Hugh turned around and waved to the crowd in a reassuring manner. The club’s members returned to their tables and resumed their gambling as if nothing untoward had occurred.
