“Why not have men doing the dusting?”
“Men don’t dust.”
“Neither do I.”
“We’re not going to turn things upside down.”
“I’m not asking you to, but, Finn, if you want women coming here, joining your club, playing your games, you need them to see that you view them as equal as men doing the same thing.”
“You suggested we hire men to dance with them. Wouldn’t they prefer to have a handsome bloke flirting with them as he dealt the cards or handed them the dice?”
He might have a point there. “Just consider the possibility of hiring women for positions other than tidying up.”
He shrugged. “You’ll be part of the selection process in the future. You can weigh in on whom we should hire.”
The thought of it sent a thrill and a shiver of dread through her. Her mother had taught her what to look for in a servant, a footman specifically since they were so visible in the household. She suspected the employees here needed more than matching heights and fetching calves. Still, she wasn’t going to divulge any trepidation on her part. “Very good. How many ladies should I invite?”
“Every single one you know.”
In retrospect, it was a silly question. “Most families are in the country now. Some will be returning for the Little Season. Perhaps we should have... not a ball exactly since this is for women only, but some sort of affair. A social evening where they can get a flavoring of what we offer. Maybe they could play at the tables for free that night.”
“We’re not a charity.”
“No, of course not. But a night where we dangle the fun to be had—like bait, when fishing. Then once they’re on the hook, they are ours.”
“When have you ever been fishing?”
“My father took me a time or two on the estate.” One of her more pleasant memories of him, when he’d been loving and gentle with her. Now all she could imagine when she thought of him was his role in seeing Finn hauled away.
“Do you miss it? The life you had?”
She heard true interest and sympathy in his tone. He wouldn’t fault her if she did. But she had no desire to travel that path at the moment. With determination, she picked up the pen he’d laid out for her and dipped it in the inkwell. “I shall invite them to an evening at the club three weeks hence, so if they aren’t in the city, they will have time to get to town should they decide to come.” She looked askance at him. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“You’re in charge of getting them here. I leave it to you to determine the best way to do that.”
She was surprised by the pleasure his words brought her. Having been on her own for three months now, she’d grown accustomed to making her own decisions, but no one had ever expressed a belief she would make the correct ones, that her opinions had merit. Even the sisters had occasionally questioned the wisdom of her actions, expressing their concerns. Although she’d appreciated that they cared enough to worry over her, it was somewhat reassuring now to have his support.
But incredibly dangerous to wonder how much nicer it would be to have so much more than that—to once again have his heart.
Chapter 18
Finn sat sprawled in a large plush chair in his living quarters—he’d lied to her about these rooms not being furnished because he’d wanted her to have the room that carried his scent. After she’d mentioned it yesterday, he’d thought if she went to sleep in that room, she might dream of him—and fought not to think about how close she was, within reach, at the other end of a lengthy hallway. Having her here was a mistake because he’d gotten very little of his own work done having spent more time than was wise surreptitiously peering over to watch her. The way her brow pleated when she concentrated, the way she would touch the un-inked end of the pen against her lower lip, the way her mouth would curl up whenever she was pleased with whatever decision she made and began writing.
She enjoyed making lists apparently. She’d created one of the ladies she would invite to the club, the tunes the orchestra would be asked to play, the types of refreshments they would have on hand, little foods that could be enjoyed while wandering around. From what he could gather, their club would very much resemble the festive atmosphere of a ball, not the dark, wicked place he’d envisioned, but he could see now the wisdom in not going that route.
So while it was a mistake to have her so near because she served as a distraction, having her on hand to provide her expertise regarding what women of her caliber would fancy had been a wise move on his part, ensured his—their—club met with a measure of success.
Shoving himself to his feet, he began pacing the room like a caged animal, desperate for freedom. He’d done that for five years in his small cell, thinking about gaining vengeance on her and her family, her father especially. But when he’d finally been released, he’d simply wanted to be done with it all. Especially as her father had died while he’d been locked away.
But since the final time he’d heard the clank of the key going into the lock of his cell door, he’d been unable to stay in a room for long. He certainly wasn’t going to remain in his quarters simply because she was inhabiting hers. He needed to get out for a bit. He needed a drink.
He stepped out of his rooms and onto the landing that circled the upper floor and looked down on the gaming area. A dozen or so ladies—the wives or daughters or sisters of wealthy merchants he’d met through their association with Mick—were testing their luck at a couple of the card tables. They were desperately in need of more patrons, not only to give their employees something to do but to refill their coffers. Vivi’s timeline of three weeks seemed far too long. He needed the elite ladies she could bring in to make a difference as soon as possible.
Heading for the front stairway, he noted that light was spilling out of the office. Stopping, he glanced inside. She was working, even though they’d both decided not more than an hour ago when the clock struck eight to be done for the day. Leaning against the doorjamb, he watched her, making note of the fact that she appeared... at ease, content. Years ago, she’d seemed happy to be with him, but he’d always had the impression she saw gladness as a fleeting thing, only to be had when she was in his company. He wondered now if she’d agreed to marry him because she’d thought he’d bring her happiness, had been placing the burden of that responsibility on him. He’d been willing to take it, to do anything to make her smile. He’d liked feeling needed, wanted, desired. But there was something much more powerful about desiring this woman who had found her own happiness—not in nice clothing or a comfortable dwelling or myriad items, but in herself. “Don’t you think—”
Releasing a little screech, she flung herself back in the chair, nearly tipping it over. Breathing heavily, staring at him with wide eyes, she pressed a hand to her chest. “My God, Finn, you startled me.”
It took everything within him to bite back the laughter he was fairly certain she wouldn’t appreciate. “Terrified, more like.”
