A Man Above Reproach (3 page)

“He’s staring,” Sally whispered to Nicholas.

“He never stopped staring, love,” Nicholas laughed. “Not since he saw her.”

“She is no ordinary player,” Elias said, ignoring their mockery. “She was classically trained somewhere and from a young age at that.”

“I believe that is only one of her apparent gifts under your observation,” Nicholas smirked.

Elias shot him a look and Sally giggled.

“She wouldn’t mind your notice,” she said. “The girls of the Dove are not uppity at all.”

“Obviously not,” Elias muttered. He wanted to keep his piano girl apart from the Cyprians swarming around him. He had not lied to her; he did not plan on taking her to bed. He was not going to try to seduce her. Their brief dialogue had distracted him enough to make him stay—he had underestimated the value of an intelligent woman’s charming conversation. He could forget for a moment that his father had let the tenants near the country estate run wild and that he needed
to plan for his sister’s London debut. All that existed was that feathered mask and the full lips that lived under it. He hoped that she could talk while playing. Perhaps they could duet.

He was letting his idle fantasies get the best of him. A duke could not play piano in a bordello. Ridiculous.

His brandy had been refilled and he had not noticed. Nicholas was smiling in his direction.

“I told you time stops in this place,” he said.

“Your friend is smitten!” Sally exclaimed, clapping her hands together with delight.

“Not smitten,” Elias corrected. “Intrigued.”

“Lennox would never stoop so low as to be smitten,” Nicholas grinned. “Just ask any of the esteemed patronesses. He is impenetrable.” He nuzzled against the girl’s cheek contentedly. “They call him the Uncatchable. You should tell the bluestocking that tidbit.”

“Your gentleman exaggerates,” Elias corrected. “I just have high standards and none of the misses pushed in front of me at London balls have managed to meet them.”

“BB’s the classiest gal I’ve ever met. Always reading. Nice to everyone, doesn’t matter their station in life. She helps the girls that Mother…” Sally cut off, her eyes darting away. “Never mind that, but she’s almost an angel, Your Grace.”

Mother Superior must have had a psychic sense about the mention of her name, because she glided into their circle, skirts swirling around her like a rough ocean that would make one seasick. She gave Sally a look of disapproval.

“My dear Crimson, I do hope you’re not boring the gentlemen with chitchat. I have a room reserved for you and Lord Thackeray.”

“Soon enough,” Nicholas said, a bit snippily. “We are enjoying ourselves out here for the time being.”

“Crimson does not get compensated for conversation,” Mother purred, “but perhaps I should reconsider that agreement.”

“Excuse me?”

Elias could see Thackeray’s temper rising, so he stepped forward.

“I will not be offended. You two make use of the fine room that is waiting for you, whether it is for discussion or something more. I should get my pounds’ worth of the bluestocking, at any rate.”

“A gentleman who respects the rules,” the madam smiled, too feline.

“It works both ways. Keep my glass filled and your nose well away from the piano.”

He stood straighter, knowing that his height was rather imposing when he directed it accordingly. He turned before he could see her reaction, but could tell from Nicholas’s smile that the remark had hit home.

“Good evening, Nicholas.” He bowed in his best courtly manner and then kissed Sally’s hand. “It was a pleasure to have made your acquaintance, my dear.”

Thackeray’s girl flushed charmingly and Elias began to make his way back to the place where the music began.

Josephine opened one eye, for she had smelled the duke approaching before he arrived. He smelled like leather and wealth and sandalwood and… she could not believe she was actually waxing poetic in her mind about the scent of a man. She opened the other eye as he sat down again, as if his place was designated next to her on the bench. He of the wild hair and soulful dark hazel eyes, he of the annoying questions.

“Excuse my reach, Your Grace, but I must have access to all the keys.”

Her arm brushed his and she cursed the thrill.

“I do not mind, Blue,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “And as I said, do call me Elias.”

“I am not comfortable with that. The form of address is much too intimate.”

“Yes. Intimate. As intimate as you have allowed any man to get here, is it not?”

“Yes.”

That was enough of an answer, she thought, to such an intrusive question.

“No one has ever offered you the amount it would take to get you to one of the storied rooms of your Mother Superior?”

“There is no amount. Furthermore—you said you were not trying to bed me.”

“I am not. I am merely curious. We have a night to fill with words, and you are uncommonly prickly for someone so concerned with decorum.”

“You are baiting me, I think. I can tell from your manner and the lines around your mouth that you were less than decorous in your early years.”

“You have been looking at my mouth?” One corner of the offending body part shot up into a smirk. She slipped and missed a chord. “Careful, love. I heard that.”

“So you recognize Schubert, Your Grace.”

“Elias. I can recognize Schubert from three rooms away. I can even recognize Schubert on a traitorous and vile instrument such as this.”

She laughed despite herself. “It is all that I have here.”

“A shame. It does a disservice to your talent.”

The compliment caught her off guard. She let a few seconds pass by, concentrating on the song.

“Thank you,” she said, belated and awkward.

He did not return the politeness but instead sat sipping his brandy and listening to her play. It was a comfort just to have his warmth at her side, his commanding presence. She became aware that a good portion of the room was staring at them. Some of them were whispering. She should have expected that. A duke and the lightskirt pianist: the bluestocking, the one they called uptight and prudish despite her scandalous outfit. Josephine supposed they were right in a way. Sometimes it was an excitement to be in such an uninhibited place, but most of the time she felt deep shame. There was not another way to make a significant amount of money as a female on her own. It was the best and possibly only option. There were bigger dangers at the Dove, though, beyond groping and drunken lewdness. Josephine had a place to go after the club closed, but many other girls were not as lucky. It was a well-known fact that if you slept at the Dove, you were in peril.

“Your playing has become maudlin,” the duke’s voice rumbled. “What are you thinking?”

“Only that this delightful night has to end,” she lied. She supposed she should try to keep the repartee flirtatious, though she was not sure what this solemn man wanted for his money. Couples were starting to wander away and Mother Superior stood at the bar, surveying with a keen eye the progress she was making. Money filled her green eyes; it powered them.

The duke laughed.

“What?” Josephine snapped.

“You are a terrible liar,” he smiled, his fingers on the keys. He tinkled a sweeter melody under her so-called maudlin measures. “Did I have to pay extra for honesty?”

She adjusted the tune to match him. More eyes turned their way.

“You came to a brothel expecting honesty?”

“I came here expecting to leave early,” he said, “not to correct your choice of compositions. One might think you were playing a requiem right now.”

“I am distracted.”

“Perhaps you need a drink.” He motioned to Mother Superior and she was at their side in a flash. Elias smiled at her in a most cordial way. Josephine noted to herself that she must stop thinking of him by his first name. “My bluestocking is in need of cheering. Might we have a glass of your best wine?”

Mother balked at the suggestion. “The girls know better than to request my private stock.”

His eyes narrowed, flashed into hazardous black. Josephine stopped playing, her fingers hovering in time above the keys.

“A duke is requesting.”

As the madam slunk away, Josephine dared to look at Elias in the face fully.

“Do you always throw around your title like this?” she whispered.

“Never. Only in extreme situations and your frown, my dear, is an extreme situation.”

She could not help but smile at that. Truth be told, she found those hawkish features of his dreadfully handsome. Sitting beside him for so long was putting ideas in her mind that she had not thought herself capable of after long years of observing men of his ilk. His disordered hair was begging her to put her hands in it, to tear the mask from his face, and kiss the tautness from his smirk.
My goodness, where did that thought come from?
She drew in a breath and turned her gaze back to the ivories.

“My friend Lord Thackeray is quite taken with one of your acquaintances. Or, your ‘grand friend,’ as she called you.”

“Yes, Sa—Crimson. They are always together when he is here. I worry that she is getting the wrong impression. I am sure you see the
danger in women like us thinking that a nobleman will rescue them from their nightmares. Impractical at best, heartbreaking at worst.”

He thought it over for a moment before answering. He was a careful man, she could tell, the kind who weighed his words.

“I know that he likes her very much, and I am sure that she is paid well for the fun they have together. It may be that he is grooming her to be his mistress, but as for far-flung dreams… Nicholas’s family would never allow a marriage so beneath him.”

“I told her as much,” Josephine sighed. “But she is young and naive.”

The bartender, a grunt of a man who never shaved called Digby, clunked a wine glass in front of Josephine. It sloshed with the force.

“For you, BB,” he spat. “And so’s you know, the mistress is not happy.”

“She should be more than happy with the amount my companion has spent this eve.”

“So far,” Elias added.

“She don’t like demands.”

“She likes money,” the duke said, palming something to Digby. He smiled a black-toothed approval and walked away.

Josephine took a sip of her wine. It was tart and delicious and the best she’d ever had in the Dove. She savored it before swallowing, thinking over exactly how to say what she needed to next.

“Elias,” she began, hoping that the name he wished her to use would soften the blow she had to land. “I know I told you already, but I feel I must reiterate. I am not for sale here. No matter the wine, the compliments, the charm, the unreasonable amount of money you continue to spend… I do not allow liberties.”

“I heard you the first two times, Blue. I did not come here for a tumble. Though I must admit I have no qualm about paying for the
privilege of admiring your legs and your stunning eyes, even behind that ostentatious mask.”

This time she gulped the wine. It was easier to take those kinds of comments from men whom she was not attracted to. She had to admit it. She was attracted to the damned cad. He was odd, stoic, nearly uncouth, but she was unaccountably drawn to him. Josephine urged time to go forward as fast as possible, because she could not take much more of the close proximity and wordplay.

“No response? And you seemed so feisty a moment ago.”

“Erm… thank you.”

“What do gentlemen who pay for your company usually talk about?”

“My appearance, much less poetically. Lewd comments and questions about which lady they should choose among the crowd. Consistent pleas to grant a private audience. Complaints about Mother Superior and the alcohol. Demands to know what I look like under my mask. What I look like under my dress.”

The room was clearing out, just a smattering of stragglers were left now: women past their prime trying to entice the last of the gentlemen and some hopeless louts who would leave disappointed, with coin still in their pocket. It would be a comfort that there were many other places in seedier parts of the city still open to allay their frustration.

“It sounds terribly depressing.”

“It is, Your Grace. You needn’t feel sorry for me, however. I would not want your pity.” She gestured around the room at the people dispersing. “Mother will be closing up the bar soon, as the couples have gone off two by two or three. I hope you do not feel cheated out of your money.”

“Not in the least.” He picked up her hand as if to kiss it, but then just ran a thumb over her palm, looking at her too keenly. The tactile
buzz of it was shocking. She imagined she could feel every line of his finger graze her skin.

“It was… a lovely evening.”

“Indeed it was.”

Josephine stopped herself just short of asking if she would be seeing him again. What a stupid, impractical, girlish question to pop into her mind. She held his gaze too long, mesmerized, and then pulled her hand back to finish her wine in one swig. She was not looking forward to settling accounts with Mother this evening.

“Have you a way home?” Elias asked.

“I will rent a hackney, as I do every night. That is, after I give Mother Superior her well-earned cut of your ill-spent money.”