The Handbook to Handling His Lordship (4 page)

“Run by the prettiest chits in London! And Marty says they choose men they like and invite them upstairs. Have you been upstairs?”

Nate cleared his throat. Upstairs. Sex meant intimacy and secrets, neither of which he felt comfortable sharing. The last woman he’d slept with—God, had it been two years ago, now?—he’d handed over to the army for attempting to sell the pillow-talk confidences she coaxed over to Bonaparte. “Stop yammering, will you?” he said, when he realized Laurie was staring at him. “You sound like a donkey. You’re being punished, and you’re learning how to do household accounts. Open the ledger.”

Laurence planted his elbows on said account book to lean forward over the desk. “You have been upstairs, then! Was it glorious? Bedouin draperies and pillows? Who was she? They say that every female there is scandalous and highborn and beautiful.”

“No, I have not been upstairs at the Tantalus, for God’s sake. I’ve visited twice. And they aren’t all highborn. They are all well educated and attractive. And you’re still not going.”

With a scowl Laurie sat back in the chair again and flung open the ledger. “Well, I wish that men had a club where they could go work, so I wouldn’t have to put up with being bullied by you.”

“They do. It’s called the army.”

Nate sat in the deep windowsill. Hm. The Tantalus Club did have a reputation for accepting well-educated women who’d been forced for one reason or another to leave more acceptable circumstances. He doubted Rachel Newbury would settle in a place so public after committing a robbery and a murder, but it provided more of a starting place than he’d had five minutes ago—and he’d certainly had no luck tracking her in Shropshire. Someone might know something, anyway.

It actually had a certain poetical logic to it. As a pretty and well-educated chit, she’d fit in well there. As a haughty female, however, she’d likely turn up her nose at finding employment by flirting with men. Still, he’d on occasion found information at the least likely of places. And The Tantalus Club might be
un
likely, but it certainly wasn’t the
least
likely lead he’d ever had.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, pushing upright again. “Go dress for luncheon.”

Laurie shot to his feet. “At the Tantalus?”

“Yes, at the Tantalus. If I see one instance of you drooling or leering or doing anything unseemly, I’ll drag you out of there by your ear. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely.” Laurie paused halfway through the doorway. “Is this about your hobby?”

“Possibly. If you can behave yourself today, perhaps I’ll tell you something about it.”

Ah, he would likely regret giving in, but he’d learned a very long time ago to accept inspiration from any source available. And that now included his brother, evidently.

Chapter Three

“He’s here,” Lucille Hampton said, bending down to whisper in Emily’s ear.

Emily looked up, abrupt uneasiness filtering down her spine. “Who’s here?”

“My beau.”

Stifling an annoyed sigh and at the same time immensely relieved, Emily returned to next week’s work schedule. “Who is it this week?”

“The Earl of Westfall. I daresay he’s as handsome as Lord Haverly.”

“Is he the one with the spectacles?” the other lady at the table, the unlikely named Miss April March, asked, smiling. “He asked for tea the other day, took a drink, and said, ‘Blast it, I meant coffee.’”

“I never said he was brilliant,” Lucille countered. “Only handsome. And wealthy.”

“Have a care about how you refer to the club’s members, both of you,” Emily commented. “If Diane hears you swooning over any of our guests while you’re working, she’ll have you scrubbing pots in the kitchen.”

As if on cue, Diane, Lady Haybury, walked into the upstairs common room all the Tantalus ladies and the large, formidable Helpful Men shared. The marchioness, in a gown so black it shimmered, strolled toward the table Emily had commandeered. “Good afternoon, Emily.”

“Diane. Lady H.” The other ladies scattered with such speed that the marchioness lifted an eyebrow.

“That was … interesting.”

Emily grinned. “Lucille’s after a new beau, and doesn’t want you forbidding her to pursue anyone.”

“I have no objection at all, as long as she treats all our members equally while inside the club proper.” She sank onto the bench across the luncheon table from Emily. “Who is it, anyway?”

“This time? Lord Westfall. Evidently she thinks he’s dim enough to fall for her charms and sweep her into a life of luxury.”

Diane shrugged. “It’s happened before. More often than I would have expected, actually.” She smiled. “I can’t imagine that I’ve been too cynical in my life, but there you have it. Some fairy tales do come true.”

Personally Emily wouldn’t wish the prattling, preening Lucille on anyone, but if Miss Hampton was after Westfall, then Emily would leave him be. Despite the fact that handsome and dim was just her type of gentleman, and that if she were ever to write a handbook on how to win a man’s compliance and affections it would have one chapter, and one word in that chapter.
Sex.
“Jaded or not, your degree of cynicism seems to have served you well,” she said aloud. “And I assume you’re here to see the schedule? I thought we were meeting at two o’clock.”

The marchioness waved a hand at her. “We were. I’m early. Haybury wants to take me driving this afternoon, annoying man.” The slight smile she gave spoke of an entirely different emotion, and Emily couldn’t help grinning in response.

“I thought you looked exceptionally stunning today. Perfect for an outing.”

“I’ll likely be miserably warm, but I’m finding that while previously I was horribly scandalous to continue wearing widow’s black even after remarrying, now I’m known for the convention. Or unconvention. Who knows? I may have to begin wearing white simply to be noticed again.”

With a laugh, Emily turned the book in which she’d been writing next week’s work schedules around for her employer to see. “As long as you continue running The Tantalus Club, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about going unnoticed.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you to say,” her employer replied. Still chuckling, Diane took the schedule and looked through it. “Are you certain you wish to pair Marianne Stuart with Lucille? I have to admit, while our members love Lucille’s … enthusiasm, I’m not convinced she should be training anyone.”

“At this moment I think Marianne would faint if anyone glanced in her direction, much less if they leered at her. And if nothing else, Lucille does enjoy being the center of attention.” She hesitated, disliking this part even if it did make her more vital to her employers. “I can check in on her from time to time if you wish.”

Lady Haybury eyed her for a moment with that unsettling way she had, that expression that left her seeming much older and wiser than her twenty-six years of life should have granted her. Would have granted her, under better circumstances. Emily might have been the same age as her employer, but there were times she felt decades younger—and more when she felt centuries older.

“That would be helpful,” the marchioness finally said, lowering her gaze to the schedule again. “Most of the peerage is supposedly at Tattersall’s today for the horse sales, so we’re evidently going to be a bit light on membership. Jenny will be supervising tonight, and I won’t be back until later.”

With a nod, attempting to hide her reluctance, Emily handed over a second sheet of paper. “According to Charity, she cannot continue purchasing peaches piecemeal if everyone is going to insist on recommending the peach tarts. This is a list of the three farms nearest London where we might make a contract for the fruits.”

“Ah, contracts for peaches. Another of the things I never foresaw when I began all this.” She looked at the paper. “Was this Miss Green’s idea?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen a cook—chef, rather—who has such a head for numbers.” Diane had hired Charity Green only a month ago, but the menu and meals had never been more praised, and the Tantalus was already nearly as famous for its food as it was for its employees. “Shall I give the task to Jenny? She does seem to have a talent for convincing merchants of the true definition of fair pricing.”

This time Diane laughed. “The penalty for attempting to overcharge a gaggle of females—a visit from Genevieve Martine. But actually I think Oliver and I will go. It will keep him from whatever deviousness he had planned for the afternoon, anyway.”

“Nothing can keep me from that.” The Marquis of Haybury walked up to the table and took the seat beside his wife. “And where are we going?” Diane might claim to speak for Oliver Warren, but there was nothing in his steely gray eyes or lean, hard frame that spoke of any kind of subservience. Whatever had passed between the two of them had been resolved to their mutual satisfaction, but the path there had been littered with everything from blackmail to pistols—and Emily was quite aware that she didn’t know the half of it.

“To negotiate for peaches, out in the country,” Diane answered.

“So this is what my life has become. Peach treaties.” He sent his wife a sardonic grin. “Could be worse, I suppose, though I had a thoroughly devious afternoon of naked swimming planned. Carriage, or horseback?”

“Horseback, definitely.”

The marquis stood again, putting his hands on his wife’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss her. The marquis and marchioness weren’t precisely known for avoiding public displays of affection, but Emily looked away, anyway. She’d had a handful of lovers over the past few years, but she didn’t kiss them—and that was why. A kiss wasn’t about sex; a kiss was about affection. And Lord and Lady Haybury fiercely adored each other.

“Emily, don’t forget that you’re to oversee luncheon today,” Diane continued, rising and lightly shoving her husband toward the door. “I apologize that we’ve been asking you to supervise so much lately.”

A responding chill swept down Emily’s spine at hearing her duties spoken aloud. “It’s no problem. I’m happy to do my share.” It wasn’t anything new; she went into the public areas of the Tantalus at least once a week. That didn’t mean, however, that she enjoyed it.

“Let’s be off, then. Negotiating peach treaties is a delicate matter, I’m certain,” Haybury said.

Diane made a face as they walked toward the door. “Are you going to say that all afternoon?”

“Very likely.”

As they left, Emily glanced at the clock. She needed to go downstairs. Thankfully the luncheon rush only lasted a few hours, and then Jenny would step in before the evening setting with its presoiree and posttheater rushes that would last until well after midnight.

Once she’d pinned the Thursday-through-Monday schedule onto the cork-covered wall in the common room, she descended the stairs to the main floor. A narrow, private corridor ran down the east side of the gaming and dining rooms, with doors leading into each of them. They allowed the female employees to come and go with an added air of mystery, and they also provided a swift escape should any of the myriad male members become … unpleasant. She lingered for a moment behind the door opening into Demeter, the largest dining room.

Emily shook herself. Over the past few years she’d learned just how little attention people paid to one another, and precisely how little she had to gain by worrying over what other people did or thought. She’d survived, managed to find employment at The Tantalus Club, because of no one but herself. And as for what had happened before then, and what happened outside these walls, she didn’t care. Not an ounce, not unless it concerned her; which it wouldn’t, because she never stepped through the front entryway.

She did need to step through this door and into the dining room, however. Putting the cool smile on her face that tended to keep men at a distance, she took a breath, pushed down the latch, and stepped inside.

Every other Wednesday was designated as a ladies’ day at the Tantalus, because Lady Haybury had found that women enjoyed gambling as much as any man, and they had many fewer places where they could indulge themselves. This Wednesday, however, the Demeter room was stuffed to the rafters with gentlemen. So much for the distraction of Tattersall’s.

Thirty tables lay spread about the room, with the most coveted seats in the middle of the mass and beneath the trio of tall windows that overlooked the club’s garden. The Demeter was the largest room in the club; evidently when gentlemen dined they preferred to do so in view of their fellows. The gaming rooms—the Persephone, the Psyche, and the Ariadne—were slightly more intimate, but of course there were more of them. Back three years ago when the club had opened she’d expected the least used room to be the Athena, but these days even the library had become a well-populated place for smoking cigars and reading in relative quiet.

At the moment, however, she didn’t have time to reflect on the surprising success of the Tantalus. Lucille stood half draped over one of the tables, while Marianne Stuart stood just behind Miss Hampton, a mortified expression on her pretty, pale face.
Damnation,
Emily thought, and squared her shoulders as she walked forward.

“Miss Hampton, are you well?” she asked, stopping on the far side of the table.

Lucille straightened, a deep smile on her face. “I was just examining Lord Westfall’s new watch fob,” she returned.

Stifling her irritation, Emily faced the seated man to her left. “I apologize, Lord Westfall. Might I offer you and your guest a complementary bottle of wine?”

Behind a pair of metal-rimmed spectacles, light green eyes met hers. The eyes, set nicely beneath a disheveled head of tawny brown hair and above a straight nose and a mouth that briefly quirked in a quick, dismissive smile, blinked. “Hm? Miss Hampton has declared that watch fobs are a hobby of hers. I collect tomes, myself, but fobs do take less space, I assume.”

“I would imagine so,” Emily returned, maintaining her own polite smile. He couldn’t possibly be thick enough not to realize that Lucille had literally been throwing herself at him. If he was, though, then good. The Tantalus thrived in part because of its policy of hands off toward the female employees. The Tantalus girls, as they were known, were allowed to have callers upstairs, as long as it was firstly the lady’s idea and secondly it didn’t interfere with her duties. Flinging herself bodily across a man who simply wished to eat a meal was unacceptable.