“How do you know?” Beatrice crowded in to see.
“See this symbol?”
“The horseshoes, you mean?” she asked.
“Those aren’t horseshoes. The two lines are meant to be a flame, the symbol of the Hellfire Club. When my watch was made inactive, they removed the inner line. I, ahem, made the mistake of trying to get in one time after my membership had been withdrawn; the guards at the door turned me away after examining the dial.”
Wick thought back to Doolittle’s description of Yard’s pawned watch. “Come to think of it, Doolittle did say there was a symbol like a horseshoe…nothorseshoes, plural.”
“You’re right.” Beatrice nodded. “I was so amazed by his presentation that I didn’t even notice that small discrepancy between the watch he described and ours.”
“If my guess is correct, then this watch is a valid admission ticket.” As Yard spoke, his grasp tightened on the timepiece, a covetous look sharpening his features.
“I’ll take that back,” Wick said.
Reluctantly, Yard released the watch into Wick’s palm.
“Will they ask for any other identification?” Beatrice asked.
“There was a password.” Yard snuck another glance at the watch as Wick tucked it away. “When I was a member, it changed regularly. The last one I recall wasAltar of Pan, but I’m sure it’s changed since then.”
A bridge Wick would cross when he got there.
He held out the banknote. “We’ll need the club’s address.”
29
“We’re notto be separated, understood? You stay by my side, and you do not stray. Not for any reason,” Wick said with emphasis. In the dim light of the carriage, his features were set in stern lines. “And for Christ’s sake, donottake off your mask or wig.”
“I’m not an idiot, you know.”
Bea’s wig was perfectly secured; she’d asked Lisette to use extra pins to keep the brunette curls in place. She did, however, adjust her white satin mask to appease him.
She figured the placating gesture wouldn’t hurt since they’d had yet another row earlier, and she knew Wick was less than pleased with the outcome. He’d been adamant about going alone to the Hellfire Club; she’d been equally adamant that she should go with him. It washeradversary,herland,herpeople at stake—she would not stay at home and wring her hands.
Their battle had waged on back at Wick’s house. When they arrived, the Carlisle family had been in the drawing room, the boys crowded around their parents who were involved in some life-or-death card game.
Glancing at his brother’s face, Carlisle had folded his cards. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
“But I was about to beat you…” Violet had trailed off when she saw Bea’s expression. “All right, boys. Who wants to have an archery competition?”
At her sons’ cheers, she’d herded them to the door, Carlisle shutting it behind them.
“I will not have you risking your neck,” Wick had bit out.
“Why should you risk yours?” Bea countered. “The problem is mine, after all.”
“Goddamnit, I thought we were beyond this. You are mine, Beatrice.” He glowered at her. “Being mine means your problems are mine.”
Although her tummy had fluttered at his possessiveness, she could not yield, not on this point.
“I’m not yours yet.” She persisted even as his nostrils flared, his hazel eyes blazing. “I care for you, Wick—trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone. But if this relationship of ours is to work, you will need to return the favor. Trust me to handle my own affairs—or, at the very least, to participate in the resolution of my own problems.”
“It’s not a matter of trust but common sense. You’re alass, and this Hellfire Club is naught more than a bloody orgy—”
“We met at an orgy. You didn’t question my presence then.”
“That was different.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You weren’t mine then.”
