The Duke and the Lady in Red (29 page)

 

Chapter 20

T
his time when Rose descended the stairs to see Harry dressed in evening attire she didn't stop partway, but carried on and forced her trepidation into submission. She trusted Avendale, absolutely, unconditionally.

“Are you ready for a night engaging in wicked things?” she asked her brother as she neared him.

Nodding, he grinned. She suspected he had no fear of being delivered to hell for any sins committed tonight since he'd spent most of his life in it. Surely that had to count for something, and the pearly gates would be thrown open to welcome him when the time came.

“Let's be away then,” Avendale said, and she thought he'd never looked more handsome, more at ease, more confident. Something had changed in the past few days but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

He sat beside her in the coach. Relishing his nearness, she was determined to enjoy the night, to welcome the deceptive belief that their time together would never come to an end. He certainly gave no indication of tiring of her, but surely the novelty of her would wear off. She pushed back those troubling thoughts.

The coach came to a stop. The curtains were drawn, and yet it seemed she heard far more sounds than she'd heard in the alleyway the last time they were here: the whinny of horses, the whir of carriage wheels, rapid footfalls, leisurely ones, voices. The door opened. Avendale stepped out and extended his hand to her. As she emerged, her gaze fell on the front façade of the Twin Dragons, and she had to fight back the panic, the wrongness of it.

Trust him. Trust him.

“I assumed we would go in through the back where we would have more privacy,” she said.

“Not tonight,” he said, leveling a pointed stare on her. Did she trust him? Swallowing hard, she nodded. He signaled the footman, who reached in to the coach.

“Master Harry.” He then proceeded to assist Harry. Once her brother was standing on the pavement, his eyes widened. “Beautiful architecture.”

“I always found it rather gothic-­looking,” Avendale said.

“Fits the name,” Harry said.

“I never considered that as I abhor the name. To me, it shall always be Dodger's Drawing Room. Are you ready to explore it?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Gentlemen,” Avendale said, before offering Rose his arm, and she realized there were two additional footmen.

As one helped Harry up the steps, the others flanked them. They were large, bulky men providing a shield. No one was going to approach Harry. She doubted anyone was going to get a good look at him. As they topped the stairs and neared the door, a footman bowed slightly. “Your Grace.”

He then pulled the door open. Only she, Avendale, and Harry walked in. Her brother's face was wreathed in wonder, while Rose was surprised by the absence of a crowd, even more surprised that no one seemed to take note of their arrival.

“They're not very busy,” Rose said. She did hope the business wasn't failing.

“Invitation-­only tonight,” Avendale said.

She looked up at him. “At your request?”

Before he could answer, Harry proclaimed, “Merrick!”

Roe turned to see Merrick, Sally, and Joseph greeting Harry. The gentlemen were dressed in evening attire as finely tailored as Harry's. Sally wore a blue silk evening gown that had not come cheaply. She smiled at Avendale. “Thank you, Your Grace, for the invitation.”

“A night with friends is much more enjoyable than one without.”

She gave a quick bob of a curtsy. “Also, thank you for the lovely gown. I've never had anything so fine before.”

“My pleasure. And let me say that the color suits you.”

Her eyes twinkling, she looked at Rose. “He sent a seamstress to the residence. And a tailor for the gents. Merrick has never looked more handsome.”

“I daresay I've learned that the duke is quite generous and enjoys surprising ­people,” Rose admitted.

Merrick walked over, stuck out his hand. “Duke.”

Avendale took it, gave it a shake. “Merrick.”

“Quite the place here.”

“I can take no credit for that.”

Joseph approached, gave him a hard look. “This is a place of improper behavior.”

“It is indeed.”

The man smiled. “I like that.”

Avendale laughed. “As do I. To ensure you all enjoy it to its fullest, you'll find a generous amount of tokens has been set aside for your use. Anything you earn over that is yours to keep.”

“Well, then,” Merrick said, rubbing his hands together in glee, “we need to tempt Lady Luck to smile on us. Are you coming with us, Harry?”

“In a moment.”

As the others walked off, Rose squeezed Harry's hand. “You should go off and enjoy the night with them.”

“I will, I just . . .” He looked around. “No one is staring at me. No one is taking much notice at all. It's like being in a play.” Shrewdly he studied Avendale. “They are your friends.”

“Which makes them yours as well.”

Harry's gaze darted to Rose before it settled back on the duke. He didn't look quite convinced. “But they don't know me.”

“They will before the night is done.”

Stepping forward, Rose laid her palm against brother's misshapen cheek. “What a wonderful thing it is that they will have the opportunity to meet you, to see you as a person and not something on display. I've no doubt they'll adore you as much as I do.”

“How long will we be here?”

“Until you grow weary of the entertainment,” Avendale said. “The club never closes, so we'll leave whenever you're of a mind to go. Right this moment if you want.”

“No, I want to stay.”

Miss Minerva Dodger, resplendent in a lilac gown, approached. “Your Grace,” she said with a slight tilting of her head.

“Minerva,” Avendale said. “Allow me the honor of introducing Miss Longmore and her brother, Harry.”

“
Miss Longmore
,” Miss Dodger said. “I suspected you weren't being quite truthful the night we met. Fortunately for you, I'm not one to judge, although I do hope you'll share your tale with me at some point.”

“I fear it's rather dull,” she assured her.

“Oh, I very much doubt that.” Miss Dodger then turned to Harry. “Mr. Longmore, I've looked forward to making your acquaintance. My father once owned this establishment so I'm very familiar with it. I hope you will grant me the pleasure of giving you a tour.”

Harry blinked, seemed too stunned to speak, and Rose suddenly regretted that there had been no marriageable women to lavish attention on him during his short life.

“Harry, you always say yes when a young lady offers you anything,” Avendale explained.

Blushing, Harry visibly swallowed. “I would be most delighted, Miss Dodger.”

“Excellent, but you must call me Minerva as I suspect we're going to become fast friends before the evening is done.” She wrapped her hand around the crook of his arm. “I'm going to introduce you to some rapscallions who will no doubt attempt to lure you into a private card game. Play at your own peril.”

Rose watched as the young woman led Harry away, chattering as she went. Her brother already seemed a bit smitten. “You have remarkable friends, Your Grace.”

“I only told Harry they were mine to put him at ease. The ­people here tonight are more my mother's doing.”

Surprised by his words, she turned to him. “You've spoken with her?”

“Faced the past, more like. I'll tell you about it later. Presently, I believe I shall introduce you to her.”

Rose looked over to see Sir William approaching with a diminutive woman at his side. Although her hair was more faded than in the portraits, Rose recognized her. She possessed an elegance and refinement that Rose could never capture no matter how many hours she spent practicing in front of a mirror. Dear God, she couldn't remember the last time she'd given any thought to being something she wasn't.

Avendale hugged his mother, before straightening and bringing Rose into the cozy circle. “Mother, I'd like to introduce Miss Longmore.”

“It is a pleasure, Miss Longmore.”

“Your Grace, please call me Rose,” she said with a curtsy.

“It's been a good many years since I've been a duchess. Lady Winifred will suffice quite nicely. I appreciate that you have given purpose to my son's life.”

“I'd hardly say that although he has been most kind regarding my brother's situation.”

“Life can be so unfair and we are often given not what we deserve.”

“I understand that you are responsible for the kind ­people here this evening.”

“Oh bosh. Don't make more of my efforts than they were. I merely extended invitations.”

“In person,” Avendale said.

“Well, yes. I've discovered it's more difficult for ­people to refuse a request when looking in your eyes.”

“Which is how she has managed to raise an abundance of money for so many charities,” Sir William said, pride evident in his voice.

She patted her husband's arm before returning her attention to Rose. “We must finish making the rounds. We look forward to making your brother's acquaintance. Although rest assured that Minerva shall ensure he has a jolly good time. I do not understand why the girl is not yet spoken for. Young men these days, sometimes they can be quite blind.”

“Forgive my wife,” Sir William said. “She also likes to play matchmaker.”

“Only because the right match is crucial to happiness.”

“Be sure to point your Cupid's arrow elsewhere,” Avendale said.

His mother rose up, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and murmured in a low voice, “Only if you open your eyes, darling.” Then she winked at Rose. “A pleasure, my dear. You must join us for dinner sometime. I would so love for you to meet my other children. They were desperate to come tonight, but they are still far too young for a night such as this filled with such scandalous amusements.”

“Thank you, my lady. I would like to meet them.” Although in truth, she knew if the woman understood Rose's role in her son's life as well as her past, she would be appalled by the notion of entertaining Rose in her home and introducing her to impressionable children.

As Sir William and his lady wandered away, Rose could not help but think they were a perfect match. “I like your mother,” she said.

“She is to be admired, except when she is trying to tend to my heart.”

“She loves you, wants you to be happy. That's probably what most mothers want for their children. I didn't get to experience it firsthand. You shouldn't take it for granted.”

“I won't, not again, but that doesn't mean I want her meddling.”

“She'll find you a proper wife.”

He swung his gaze to Rose. “I'm not certain I'm suited to a proper wife.”

“But you are thinking you want a wife.” In spite of his claims not to want a proper wife, she also knew she was too improper to fill that place in his life.

“I'm thinking I want a drink. Let's see what we can find, shall we?”

But she was bothered by the conversation, the possible implications, needed to remind herself as much as him of her place. “You used my real name.”

He'd taken two steps, stopped and looked back at her. “Pardon?”

“When you introduced me tonight it was as Miss Rosalind Longmore.”

“I'm weary of the lies, the deceptions, all the blasted secrets that do nothing except cause misunderstandings and put distance between ­people.” He stepped back to her. “Does Miss Rosalind Longmore have a bounty on her head?”

She didn't hesitate. “No.” But Mrs. Rosalind Pointer did. As did Mrs. Rosalind Black.

“Then why the concern?”

“Habit, I suppose. I simply never use my real name.”

“Then it's high time you did. Come now, let's find a drink, and then I want to introduce you around.”

Rose began to get dizzy, overwhelmed as the introductions continued: the Earl and Countess of Claybourne, the Duke and Duchess of Greystone, Sir James and Lady Emma, Jack Dodger and Olivia. Throughout the night, she met some of their children although she wasn't altogether certain that, if she were pressed to do it, she could have sorted them all into their proper families.

She was grateful to have a quiet moment in the balcony to catch her breath, to look down on the gaming floor and see her brother tossing dice. Those surrounding him cheered, Jack Dodger slapped him on his back. Harry's joyous laughter rang out, reached her where she stood, curled through her, warmed her.

“I'm not certain he's ever been so accepted,” she said.

“He was always accepted by you.”

She peered up at Avendale as much as she was able with his arms circling her, her back to his chest. “That's different. He's my brother.”

“It would make little difference to some.”

She didn't think she was so very special. Those who took the time to get to know Harry fell in love with him. How could they not when his was such a generous heart?

“I am torn between being at his side tonight and giving him a chance to spend the evening in the company of others.”

“Let him enjoy the others for a while. Come dance with me.”

She might have considered his request selfish if she weren't acutely aware that for almost a fortnight he'd been settling for scraps of her attention and time. “I would like that very much, but first . . .”

Turning in his arms, she rose up on her toes and kissed him, welcomed his drawing her nearer. She almost told him that she loved him, but she doubted he would welcome the sentiment. There was also the chance that he wouldn't believe her, that he would believe she felt obligated to voice the words because of all that he'd done. In a way all that he had done was responsible for her feelings—­but only because they served as evidence of his kindness and generosity. Both of which she was discovering knew no bounds.