“I am well-acquainted in this hall,” Lord Benjamin told her. “Who do you seek? I am certain we can look togetherverythoroughly. There are plenty of backrooms in this establishment, and you would look very fine beneath the lights in them.”
Despite herself, Sibyl blushed at the flirtation. Still, she could not forget her purpose for coming here.
“I am looking for Lord Kerrington,” she said, relieved by the recognition on their faces. “I am… I am seeking employment and was told he conducts meetings here. It is a small chance, but I thought I could catch him.”
“That is true, and rumors do have it that he has not been seen at his townhouse in a few days,” Lord Benjamin mused. “Indeed, he usually frequents these halls.”
“Have you seen him tonight?” Hope rose in her chest.
Alas, Lord Benjamin shook his head, his mouth turning down. “No, but if you do manage to catch him, send him my way. The man owes me for our last card game.”
“I will. Thank you.” Sibyl nodded and hurried away from the table, wary of the first man’s gaze, even if Lord Benjamin’s drifted away once he realized her disinterest.
She moved from table to table. Some men outright ignored her, too focused on winning more money, while others stared at her for too long, making her feel uncomfortable.
What would Isabella have done?
Before her marriage to Oscar Guildeford, Isabella would have had this whole room wrapped around her finger with her wit, extracting every answer she sought.
Sibyl was not finely-equipped with words, but she pressed on; she could not afford to give up.
When she stopped by a table occupied by a couple of barons that she recognized but couldn’t remember all their names, she steeled herself once more and got right to the point.
“Gentlemen. I am searching for Lord Kerrington,” she announced. “Do you know his whereabouts?”
“Half of London wants to know his whereabouts,” one baron snorted dismissively. But then he turned, looked a little harder at her, and his smile sharpened. “Why are you here all alone, little lady? This is no place for you. Do you need a chaperone, perhaps? I know many… secret, secure spots.”
Once again, Sibyl’s chest tightened, her mind batting away memories of Lord Grenford and the spot where he had put his hands on her.
She shook her head. “Never mind. Thank you.”
She hurried on, only to be snagged by her wrist. Stiffening, she turned back to find herself facing the other baron.
“I have seen him,” he declared. “He was with a woman last night.” He nodded towards one of the balconies with a harsh smirk. “Right up there, proud as anything. Likely his mistress. Why do you seek him?”
Likely his mistress.
Could her concerns have been legitimate, then?
She did not care if her husband wished to take half of the female population of London to bed, but he could not just up and leave her uncertain of her own security. He should not have put her through the shame.
While she had spent her marriage performing her wifely duties, it seemed her husband was not willing to grant the same courtesy.
Her jaw tight, she answered, “Thank you for the information.”
Offering no further explanation, she swept away from the table, only to be stopped halfway down the aisle that led to the staircase.
Tilting her head back, she found herself facing a burly man, as thick and as tall as a door. His face was twisted into a stoic, displeased sneer.
“I do not know who you are or why you are here, but I will ask you to leave only once, for you are pestering my customers,” he growled.
The room fell silent around her. Cards were placed down, coins clinked in a pause to listen, and her face flamed in embarrassment.
She froze. “I…”
“I am the manager of the Spindle,” the man spoke over her. “And you are being a nuisance.”
Around her, some men pretended to continue playing rather than admit they were eavesdropping. But then footsteps came up behind her.
