The man checked a book, then nodded him through with a lifted brow.
The club was well-appointed, the furnishings costly, and the green-and-burgundy carpet and wall hangings lavish. There were but a few men seated quietly in the main parlour, so Leo strode to the rear rooms, where the dining tables were set and a bar was located near the far wall.
Despite his discomfort, Leo crossed the room. Juliana required his assistance, whether she desired it or not. And, damn it, he knew that she had been withholding something from him. There hadn’t even been footmen to retrieve her saddlebags, and the door hadn’t opened when she’d approached the front step. Nor was there a butler in residence. There was certainly something not right about where she’d gone.
“Good day, your lordship,” the barkeep nodded.
“Good day,” Leo replied brusquely, sliding some coins on the counter between them. “Do you happen to know the direction of the Duke of Derby?”
A man rose from his seat at a dining table nearby, his eyes flashing with hostile suspicion. “Why would you care to know?”
Leo turned to face the vaguely familiar gentleman with a nod. “I have urgent business with him.”
“Going to share your drink with him, too, Livingston?” the man sneered.
Despite himself, he could feel the faint hint of a blush rise up his neck. And he hadn’t the beard to conceal the bloody thing.
“O-of course not,” he stammered.
Christ, he felt too hot. Men at the surrounding tables turned to watch the exchange, and the feeling of exposure expanded in his chest. They knew who he was, what had happened to his brother…
Beads of perspiration formed on his back and began to tickle the fine hairs on his spine as they dripped toward his trousers.
“Don’t give the marquess anything to drink,” the man said to the barkeep. “He might decide to poison someone.”
Horror rooted Leo to the spot as memories of that ghastly day raged through his mind. His brother’s expression of gruesome shock, the gut-wrenching pain of losing the man that Leo had always looked up to, and the hollowness that had come once he’d accepted his inevitable death by hanging.
“Is that what you’re planning to do with the duke?” the gentleman continue with a sneer. “Poison him?”
Shame prickled over Leo’s skin, and his fingers began to tremble. He would never be able to clear his name. To theton, he would always be known as the man who murdered his brother. Of course Juliana had rejected him; it made all too much sense to him, now. Leo was not capable of giving Lady Juliana the life that she deserved.
That familiar ill, hollow feeling settled into his chest, spreading like icy river water through his body, until he was covered in a sheen of cold perspiration and miserable acceptance.
It had been too soon to return to London. Hell,foreverwould be too soon.
He cleared his throat and mumbled his excuses before fleeing. Like the bloody coward he was. The gaze of every man in the club burned into his back as though they were extinguishing their cigars on his bared skin.
* * *
Midday light shonethrough the tall windows of the diminutive drawing room situated just off the foyer, and Juliana soaked up the warmth. Rain pattered against the glass, the sound soothing her rattled nerves.
Would she ever see Leo again? The question repeated itself in her mind, taunting her with all of the things she ought to have said to him before they’d parted. The moment she’d turned away from him to walk to the door, she could feel his gaze boring into her back as though he’d stroked it with his hands. She despaired at the intimate feeling.
I’ll not be an obligation, she asserted. No matter how much weight had settled on her chest at rejecting him, at leaving his side, Juliana knew that living in a marriage of unrequited love would be—
She stilled, her eyes growing wide.Love.
No, it couldn’t be. She would not allow herself to feel love for the man. The emotion would not serve her well when he returned to Nottingham and she began her work in London. It would be best for her to focus her attention on the new changes to her life. And yet her pulse drummed in her ears.
Forcibly turning her thoughts away from the matters of her foolish heart, she took in the room.
One of the few rooms on the main floor of the building, the drawing room was to be used as their space for conducting business. To one side stood two wide desks, behind which towered a wall of bookshelves. The remainder of the space was filled with cream-and-green upholstered chairs and chaises, with white-painted wood tables. It was an attractive sitting room, bright and inviting—ideal for both recruitment and for discussions with potential patrons.
Tingles of anticipation raced up the backs of her legs.
“Oh, Juliana! I’m so pleased that you’re here.” Grace Huntsbury glided into the room, her face wreathed in smiles and her arms outstretched.
Juliana stood from the settee and swept her friend into a tight embrace.
