A Beginner's Guide to Rakes (21 page)

“Anthony.”

From the way he pushed through the shrubbery to claim a horse standing on the far side of the path, he’d obviously been stalking them. Oliver watched him for a long moment. “Your husband’s family didn’t welcome you warmly, I presume?”

“They welcomed my dowry. I could have been a potato for all they cared otherwise.”

“Well, my dear, suffice it to say that you are nothing like a potato. A thorn-covered rose, perhaps, but never a vegetable.”

Her jaw twitched as she faced him. “I don’t require a compliment from you. Nor do I need your protection or your interference.”

Oliver spread his one empty hand. “I’m not proposing an alliance. I’m merely commenting that you seem to have been improperly categorized, and I’m stating that I don’t like the Earl of Cameron overly much based on this singular encounter.”

Green eyes held his for a moment. “Very well, then. Shall we go?”

He had other questions for her and several suggestions about the club, but oddly enough he wanted her to take them seriously. He actually wanted to help and not to be seen as sticking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Well, if he’d learned anything through an early career in wagering, it was how to bide his time.

The moment Diane set foot in The Tantalus Club foyer, she vanished. He hadn’t expected thanks for a voluntary kidnapping, but a balloon ride and luncheon with him at White’s weren’t exactly everyday occurrences. “Langtree,” he said, nodding at the butleress before he climbed the stairs to his own apartments.

“My lord, you have a note,” she returned, holding out a silver salver for him.

Oliver turned around and retrieved the missive, then continued climbing. He recognized the writing—Kat Falston. With an annoyed sigh that she’d interrupted his thoughts, he opened the note. It was short and to the point. Evidently she’d grown tired of her cold bed and found another benefactor.
Good.
That meant Oliver didn’t have to bother with messy farewells. He cast the note into the hearth and walked into his bedchamber.

Inside his quarters his bed had been made, his clothes from last night folded and put away, and every trace of his female visitor erased from view. The bathtub had been emptied and every stray rose petal picked up and disposed of.

Generally he didn’t care one way or the other if some chit left behind a stocking or a hair clip. Of course generally he shared their beds rather than them sharing his; it made separating at the end of the evening—or, more rarely, in the morning—that much simpler.

Why, then, was he looking for traces of her? “Idiot,” he muttered, and went to find a glass of whiskey. Whatever stupidity wanted to roil about in his mind, it was just that—stupidity. And he’d never gotten anything by being stupid.

The question became figuring out what he wanted. And to begin with, that was fairly clear. The next time they shared a bed—and there would be a next time—she would want to be there, she would yearn for his touch, and she would be just as eager to touch him.

All he had to do now was make it happen.

Chapter Thirteen

“How many this morning?” Jenny asked, slipping into the Adam House breakfast room.

“Another fourteen.” Diane handed over the latest stack of applications. “I’ve been thinking that after we have our base membership, perhaps we should have members in good standing nominate new members. That’s the way most of the established clubs do it.”

“And perhaps your founding membership should have a plaque or some such thing,” Jenny added with a nod, sitting down beside her to flip through the pages. “I see that Lord Cameron’s applied. Are you going to admit him?”

“A plaque. Something to keep them returning here. That’s a splendid idea.” Diane motioned for another cup of tea and spooned in some sugar. “And no. He doesn’t qualify. The new Lord Cameron doesn’t have a large enough income or fortune.”

“But if he did, would you—”

“No. I said I would allow him to attend the opening. I have no intention of making it easy for him to come by whenever he chooses. Next he would be offering suggestions.”

“This
was
to have been his London home.”

Sending her friend a sideways look, Diane sipped her tea. “He can continue to reside at Benchley House. It may be smaller than Adam House, but it’s entailed. No relations, dead or otherwise, can sign it over to their spouses.”

Jenny glanced swiftly about the room. “Be cautious, Diane. While I agree that you deserve Adam House and whatever good you can make of it, the courts would not see it that way.”

“Yes, well, Anthony’s already had his solicitors review the deed, and they are all convinced that Frederick’s signature is legitimate. And
I
won’t be stopped by a Benchley.” She cleared her throat. “Now. Back to The Tantalus. Emily just reported that we have thirteen guests for breakfast.”

After taking a deep breath, Genevieve nodded. “For our second day of serving, that’s a fair beginning.” She sipped at her own tea. “I’m glad to see Miss Portsman is working out so well.”

“Or whoever she actually is. Thank goodness we’ve found ladies who can help us captain the various parts of the club. I don’t think the two of us could oversee everything for twenty-four hours every day. I’ve also been thinking of moving Sophia White from the faro tables to seating the dining room. Gentlemen seem to like her … eyes.”

“Mm. And her hair, and the rest of her.” Jenny chuckled. “She’s quite charming.”

“Which is what I require.”

Her companion carefully spooned marmalade onto her toasted bread. “You aren’t concerned that her parentage might make some tongues wag?”

“I’m hoping it does.”

“And how does Miss White feel about you using her as a curiosity?”

Diane frowned. “Clearly you don’t approve. You might have simply said so.”

“It’s not that,
mein Freund
. It’s that you didn’t ask
her
. She may have been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but we all have our degrees of pride.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her.”

“
Merci.
”

“Are there any other employees whose permission I need to ask for anything?”

“Diane, don’t be angry. Sophia is a special situation. Her father’s friends—even her father—may visit the club. And he has not acknowledged her. Can you imagine being the daughter of the Duke of Hennessy and his wife’s personal maid? That is not a position I would envy.”

That was true, Diane supposed. A dozen or more of her employees were of noble birth or background, and at least two of them weren’t using their family names. Sophia, whether her father had acknowledged her or not, was certainly one of the best educated of the Tantalus girls. And she would never be invited to a proper soiree or be courted by any self-respecting aristocrat.
Men.
Sighing, Diane reached over to squeeze Jenny’s fingers. “I concede your point. I will ask her. Nicely.”

They chatted for another twenty minutes while Jenny finished eating and Diane finished up another cup of tea. It felt like the longest she’d sat still in the past three days. Even as well as the club was being received, there remained so much to do that she was considering acquiring a notebook like the one Genevieve carried about.

“Haybury.”

Starting, Diane lifted her head to look about the breakfast room much as Jenny had a moment ago. Other than herself and Jenny, only two footwomen were in sight over by the sideboard. Diane looked back at Genevieve. “What about Haybury?”

Jenny waved at the two servants. “We need a moment, if you please.”

“Of course, Miss Jenny.”

As soon as they were alone, Genevieve laid both of her hands flat against the tabletop. “He’s interfering.”

“How? What’s he done now?”

“Today? Nothing. Not yet, anyway, though apparently you are going to the theater with him this evening.”

Accustomed as she was to thinking several steps ahead of everyone else, with Jenny, Diane had always been able to simply speak her mind. And generally Jenny agreed with her. “Drury Lane was because I lost a wager.”

“Your luncheon at White’s. So you told me.” Jenny looked down at her splayed hands. “I understand why you agreed to his terms for the additional five thousand pounds. It’s made things much easier. My … concern is that you didn’t
need
to visit White’s.”

“It did turn out to be helpful. Make your point.”

“Very well. I am concerned that you are looking for excuses to deal with Oliver Warren. To be in his company.”

Diane snorted. “Oh, please. I detest the man.”

“You detested him two years ago,” Jenny countered. “Has his character altered since then?”

“I…”
Hm.
That was a very good question. He certainly hadn’t apologized for abandoning her, and he hadn’t mourned her loss or his actions by abstaining from female companionship since he’d fled Vienna. Of course, she would have flung any apology he attempted back in his face—and he knew it.

The two of them had a connection; if nothing else, the swiftness of his retreat and the speed with which she’d ended up in his bed again confirmed that—as had the bleeding hole in her chest when he’d left. But lately …
Bah.
It wasn’t worth considering. “I don’t know whether or not his character has changed, but my perspective has. I’ll use him as I see fit to get what I want.”

“You wanted to accompany him to the theater tonight, then?”

“I do like Shakespeare. And seeing White’s with my own eyes
was
helpful. I simply never thought I could manage it. And I wouldn’t have been able to, on my own.”

“Just guard your heart, Diane. You’ve made your connection to him common knowledge.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Jenny.” Rising, Diane gathered up the membership applications. “If anyone’s heart breaks, it will be his. I’ve learned my lesson very well.”

“I hope so. At the least, do keep in mind that since you have him living under our roof, making him disappear would be a very simple thing. Escaping the blame for it, not so simple.”

Diane pulled open the breakfast room door. She doubted he would be as easy to dispose of as her companion seemed to think, though Jenny was extremely resourceful. “Promise you won’t make him vanish without first consulting me.”

With a slow smile, Jenny inclined her head. “I promise.”

Two steps down the hallway Diane stopped as Oliver came into view. Her heart sped briefly—with annoyance, she was certain. “Get out of my part of the house,” she ordered, moving around him.

He fell in behind her. “I’ve ordered my coach to be brought around at seven o’clock,” he said.

“I’ll be ready; I haven’t forgotten. Now go away.”

“I’ve a question for you.”

“Then ask me tonight. I’m occupied at the moment.”

He took her shoulder and backed her into the wall. Damnation, she hated when he did that; it simply demonstrated that while she could be his equal intellectually, physically he was seven stone of solid muscle heavier and six inches taller—and he used that muscle to his advantage.

“Do I need to remind you again that I’m not a servant or an employee?” he murmured, his arm across her chest.

“My wish for you to leave me be has nothing to do with your rank or position, darling,” she returned, glaring up at his steady gray eyes. “You annoy me.”

He stood there silently for a moment. “You trouble me, but you’ve never annoyed me,” he finally said, and walked away.

Her first instinct was to be moved by what he’d said, to consider that he had and still did like her more than he felt comfortable admitting. Once reason stepped in, however, she could acknowledge that perhaps she was finally getting to him. For the moment, at least, she was winning. And that was a good thing.

Once she decided that what she felt was triumph, Diane went up to the third level of The Tantalus Club to find Sophia White. A quartet of Diane’s dealers were up in the sitting room playing a game of whist, wagering with peanuts. “Sophia?” she asked, not seeing her in the large, comfortable room.

“She’s down in the Aphrodite Room with Emily, my lady. We thought more of us should learn the tables and menus.”

“That’s much appreciated,” Diane returned, smiling.

They did continue to surprise her, with both their willingness to essentially throw away any chance at being seen as paragons of Society and their happiness at having found employment where they could use their intelligence as other than governesses or the companions of old, bitter ladies.

She returned downstairs to find the two ladies, along with a number of servers, chatting with the nine or ten men who sat at the breakfast tables. The room looked too empty, but she would have to be patient. As blasted Oliver had said, removing tables would give the appearance of failure.

“Sophia, may I borrow you for a moment?”

The Duke of Hennessy’s daughter curtsied and left the room with her. “I know I’m not to work until tonight, my lady,” the red-haired girl said with a grimace, “but Emily said if you or she or Miss Jenny were to fall ill, there would be no one to—”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Sophia,” Diane broke in. “In fact, I was wondering if you would care to become our evening greeter, showing members to tables in the main dining room and generally making certain that all our guests are being seen to and are happy.”

Light green eyes lowered briefly. “There are some men who might not look too kindly on me showing them about, my lady.”

“Then they are not welcome here.”

“My mother always said I was too lowborn to be a lady and too highborn to be a governess,” Sophia said slowly. “Until I read your advertisement, I couldn’t find employment anywhere. I was beginning to think…” She drew a breath. “I would welcome the opportunity to see to the Demeter Room. As long as you’re aware of what might happen.”

In her plans, Diane reflected, all of the girls had been of impeccable birth and unblemished character. And then she’d met the women who were willing to apply for employment here. If they needed a champion she was likely a poor excuse for one, but she was willing to give it a go. The idea actually … pleased her. Made her feel proud, even. And she’d never expected that.