Gideon motioned toward his bedchamber. “Take whatever you need from my wardrobe. We are about the same size and build. Horace will help you.”
“The ladies are not going to be happy. They want you.”
“I never made Jasmine or Chloe any promises. They’ll get the message and move on.”
Bonham seemed surprised. “You are not ever going to consort with them again, are you? Has Lady Berry already got you so wrapped up?”
“No one controls me, as you well know.”
“That’s right, barricades always up. Weapons always at the ready.” Bonham rose to march to his bedchamber. “But have a care. The lass can be quite disarming.”
As it turned out, Lady Berry and Lord Berwick were both available on such short notice. Gideon was grateful for it, for they were both popular among their elite circles and probably received two or three invitations in a single afternoon.
As for him, none of their ilk would ever give him the time of day.
Not that he cared. He did not require their friendship, but gladly took a cut of their gambling winnings.
That evening, he left Joss in charge of the Musket Club, and ordered his carriage to be brought around to the club’s front door.
He had extended his invitation to Lady Berwick as well as her husband, but Lord Berwick immediately responded by conveying his regrets that it would only be him dining. No doubt his wife understood this was to be a business meeting and did not wish to interfere.
He picked up Lord Berwick and then had his driver take them to Duchess Square to pick up Berry. He gave his neighboring property only a quick perusal as they reached the pretty square of homes. He would return early tomorrow morning to supervise the installation of the glass doors to his ballroom.
Perhaps it was a foolish expense, for no one in the Upper Crust would ever attend if he held a ball. But none of them could ever say his ballroom was inadequate, even if they refused to set foot in it.
He climbed down from his carriage, noting the graceful arch of wisteria over the doorway as he strode up Berry’s front walk. The blooms ought to have faded by now, for everyone knew they were at their best in May, but they looked bright as ever by June’s early evening light.
Her trusted butler opened the door to him. “Welcome, Mr. Knight.”
“Good evening, Melton. Is Lady Berry ready?”
“I shall see.” The man stepped aside to allow him in.
Berry had been in the parlor and now walked out with a big, welcoming smile on her face. She wore a silk gown the color of apricots, the fabric seeming to hug her body and worship it. He’d never seen fabric drape on a woman with such perfection.
Of course, when he looked at a woman it was usually to undress her with his gaze. But still, perfection was perfection.
And Berry was perfect.
“Are you ready?” He held out his arm to escort her to his carriage.
“I have been longing to try the duck cassoulet at the Denby Arms. I hear it is their specialty.”
“Yes, and it is very good,” Gideon remarked, for he often ate out and the Denby Arms was one of his favorite haunts. Indeed, it was one of the finest and most popular establishments in all of London catering to the elite.
He liked the place so much, he had acquired a controlling interest in it about a year ago.
Of course, this was not public knowledge, and he preferred to keep it that way.
Berry scampered into his carriage and took a seat beside Lord Berwick.
Gideon had the opposing seat bench to himself, a necessity because he was a big man and his shoulders were broad.
It did not take them long to arrive at their destination, even though the London streets were bustling at this hour.
The dining establishment was already filling up, as it often did no matter the time of day, but was particularly busy in the evening hours. The maître d’ came running over to him. “Good evening, Mr. Knight. Your table is ready, sir. Right this way.”
He led them to a private alcove that afforded them some separation from the other tables. This particular spot was always reserved for him and would only be given out to others if the staff knew he would not be in attendance.
