Instead, she’d turned the tables on him, and he’d come undone with the tight stroke of her hands. The memory of seeing her drop one dainty white glove at his feet, in a manner befitting a challenge to a duel, still made him hard. A duel of wits fought with seductive means… It was just how he liked to play his games. And now he’d met a woman who played as wickedly as he did.
Moves and countermoves, like a game of chess. Grudging admiration for her was impossible to deny, but he was determined not to let her win.
The coach rattled to a stop in front of the elegant townhouse that had been the home of Berkley’s Club for more than fifty years. Berkley’s had not been the only gentlemen’s club Ashton had gained an invitation to, though it had been the only one he’d accepted. It had appealed to him, for those moments when he wanted to escape business discussions, political issues, and other things most clubs were famous for. Berkley’s was strictly a club for men who wished to escape the whirlwind of life in London.
The club was also the only place where he and his closest friends—the League of Rogues, as the papers had dubbed them—could settle in comfortably, away from the scandal rags and the gossip of that damned Lady Society. Her articles in theQuizzing Glass Gazetteseemed determined to out their secrets for the amusement of London’s elite. She’d been the one to make their nickname so famous over the last few years.
Ashton would readily admit that the League’s title had always been an apt description of the original five members: Godric, Lucien, Cedric, Charles and himself. With the addition of Godric’s recently discovered younger brother, Jonathan, they were now six.
Over the years, some of their activities had been ruthless, callous and even dangerous. But things were changing. The dark memories of the past were being buried by new ones, better ones. At least in some ways. They were settling down—a thing Ashton had never thought possible.
It had all started when Godric had abducted a young woman for revenge only to fall in love with her. Now, like ivory domino tiles, they were all falling one by one for women they could not live without. Lucien, one of the more scandalous rogues, had fallen for Cedric’s sister, Horatia. And just last month Cedric had surprised everyone by proposing to Anne Chessley, the heiress.
Ashton had realized with some alarm that the League now stood equally divided between free men and those leg-shackled in matrimony. Their afternoon club discussions had changed from topics of seductions and conquests to the upcoming births of babes.
If we aren’t careful, the League will change from a force to be reckoned with to a laughingstock. The power we’ve collected could be squandered, and our enemies will close ranks and try again to destroy us.
The thought made his blood freeze in his veins. The past year had been spent dodging one deadly event or another. The more the League let itself become divided by wives and children, the easier it would be for Waverly to harm the people the League loved the most.
It wasn’t that he didn’t wish well for his friends. They were happily, madly in love with their wives. But the power they’d all worked hard to attain since leaving university could crumble. New giants would arise from the dust of their fall and new enemies as well. Ashton could not rest until he was certain they were all safe.
Until then he slept with one eye open, and such a duty weighed upon him more and more each day. As the oldest of the members, he felt obligated to be the League’s protector.
The cab halted at the entrance to the club. “Berkley’s Club,” the driver announced.
“Thank you.” Ashton stepped out of the cab and paid the driver before walking up the steps. A young lad finely dressed in a Berkley’s uniform opened the door for him. Ashton handed the lad his coat and hat.
“Looking for anyone in particular, my lord?”
Ashton tugged on his waistcoat. “Essex, Rochester or Sheridan.” He waited to see if any of the titles registered with the boy.
The footman’s face lit up into an almost reverent expression. “Of course. They are having drinks in the Bombay Room. Do you know the way, my lord?”
“Yes, thank you.” He wandered through the club, passing tables and chairs of men drinking, talking and quietly enjoying a respite from the demands of society. The warm armchairs were welcoming by the fires burning in the hearths, and the smell of food and brandy teased his nose. Berkley’s was like a second home.
The Bombay Room had Indian-themed décor and was located on an upper floor. The door was already ajar, and the sound of familiar voices inside filled him with warmth. He allowed few things to matter deeply to him, but the League, aside from his family, was the most important thing in his life.
The first thing Ashton heard as he pushed open the door was Cedric Sheridan’s chortling.
“Ash will be furious. Lady Society is calling him out.” The viscount was leaning back in his chair, holding a copy of theQuizzing Glass, grinning.
“Again?” the others asked.
“It’s a good thing whoever writes that column remains anonymous. Ash would destroy her.”
“Nothing ruffles Ash. He’s far too clearheaded.” Godric St. Laurent, the Duke of Essex, reached for the paper and scanned it. “Wait until Emily reads this. She is convinced that Ash and Lady Melbourne need to meet in a proper setting where they are forced to be civil.”
Lucien Russell, the Marquess of Rochester, stood by the window and turned at Godric’s words. “That’s all Horatia has been talking about for the last month. She said Anne invited them to tea with Lady Melbourne this afternoon.”
Ashton stood in the doorway, listening to the three married members of the League discuss their wives with lighthearted amusement. He burst out laughing, startling his friends, who hadn’t been aware of his presence. “Good Lord, you let your wives meet for tea?”
Lucien was the first to respond. “You know how much trouble it is to try to stop them. If I ever said no, Horatia would throw an embroidered pillow at my head. Followed by a vase.”
“They are as bonded to one another as we are, I’m afraid,” said Godric. “Even gave themselves that blasted name. The Society of…” He trailed off, forgetting.
Lucien moved his hands in the air, as though displaying the name in the air. “The Society of Rebellious Ladies.”
“Quite.” Cedric chuckled and put his booted feet up on the nearest table. “So long as Audrey isn’t among them, they can’t get into too much trouble.”
