“Not yet,” she said softly, her mind still whirring with possibilities. “More information required.”
Her brother looked surprised. “Shall I request a report of some kind? I thought the terms of your contract required the Cloven Hoof to disclose details monthly.”
“It does,” she agreed. “Which is how I know the amount of profit it has earned. Given he’s also had to finance his own life, Mr. Gideon would be forced to deplete most if not all of his current savings in order to double the offer. He either has more money than he has disclosed, or he is exceedingly foolish.”
Heath shrugged. “Max wants to be full owner of the club.”
“Understandable. But willing to give up everything for total control?” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s suspicious, to say the least.”
Her brother frowned. “You think he’s hiding something?”
“Available facts would suggest that conclusion.” She hated missing an important part of the picture. Especially when it came to finances. She would have to investigate. “I require a fortnight to perform an analysis of my own.”
“Very well. I’ll have the appropriate response drawn up.” Her brother pulled a face when he glanced at the hour on the clock upon the mantel.
“Late?” she asked with sympathy.
“Dreadfully.” Heath brushed off his trousers and rose to his feet. “Good luck with your computations. Try not to think too hard!”
And with that, her brother was gone. Bryony was once again alone.
But this was fortunate, for tonight’s unexpected change of plans required solitude.
She hurried from the sitting room to her dressing chamber. With a few careful contortions, she managed to twist out of her gown. She did not wish to summon her lady’s maid. Although the staff had turned a blind eye to the siblings’ various antics for more than a decade, the fewer eyes upon her transformation, the better.
After quitting her shift, she reached in the back of the armoire where she kept her well-worn collection of lad’s clothing, and a strip of cloth to bind her bosom. In no time at all, she was dressed in white small-clothes, gray waistcoat, dark trousers, black boots. It was all so mucheasierthan lacing up stays and fastening a hundred tiny buttons.
And, if her mother’s rhetoric was to be believed, the disguise was completely unnecessary. All a woman had to do was step outside with un-curled hair, and the entire world could be forgiven for believing her to be a man.
Bryony sighed. If shehadbeen born a man, none of her problems would exist. But that was not her lot, and the only choice was to make do.
Or go undercover.
If costumes and pseudonyms were the only way she ever achieved anything meaningful, then so be it.
She slipped into a sturdy black greatcoat that shrouded her from shoulders to shins and strode to the dressing table for some pins. Uncurled as her plain brown hair might be, ’twas still best to keep it pinned safely inside her hat.
When she was through, she turned to the looking-glass to inspect her handiwork.
The greatcoat was a bit too long, the hat a bit too big, but together all of the garments served to hide her form and shadow her face. It would do, just like it had done many times before.
She shoved several coins, a tinderbox, a slip of paper, and a pair of bronze keys into her pocket. Then she hurried from her bedchamber to the servants’ staircase that led to the rear exit.
As soon as she reached the street, she flagged down a hack.
“Where to?” the driver asked without bothering to look over his shoulder.
“Cloven Hoof,” she replied as gruffly as possible.
He didn’t ask any more questions.
Bryony, however, was full of them. Why was Maxwell Gideon so determined to own the lot? Only a fool would spend such a sum on an overpriced property merely out of pride.
She slid her hand into her pocket to touch the keys. Bryony possessed a copy because she owned the building, but had never before dared to enter.
Thanks to both the scandal columns and her monthly reports, she knew the Cloven Hoof was closed on Tuesdays. Mr. Gideon and the rest of his patrons had quit the premises at dawn this morning, and wouldn’t return until dusk tomorrow. All employees had the day off. The club would be empty.
Except for Bryony.
