“A building?” She spun on him.
He nodded. “It’s a requirement to be involved. We rotate the location to keep it more discreet.”
“But what is it?” she asked yet again.
“Why don’t we just wait until we get there and you can see for yourself?”
“I have a feeling I know. I just cannot imagine it being true.” She shifted in her seat. “And I do not like this carriage. It is decidedly less comfortable than the others.”
“I cannot exactly ride the carriage emblazoned with the dukedom’s crest. It would draw too much attention.”
They arrived at Lord Griffith’s building, and Gulliver opened the door for them. Norman jumped from his seat, slinging a bag over his shoulder as he followed them.
“Norman is coming with us?” she whispered. Her eyes darted about as if she were afraid they were doing something illegal and did not wish to be caught.
She was not entirely off.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
He only chuckled at her persistence. “You will see.”
Robert opened the door for Louisa, and she turned wide eyes toward him, but he only jerked his head to encourage her inside. Norman never opened doors for him at these events. It would only cause suspicion and too many questions.
Robert was met with the familiar room where several other lords had already gathered. Some sat in chairs about the space, waiting to be mere spectators, as it wasn’t their turn or they had already been eliminated from the bracket and only wished to be entertained for an evening.
All heads swiveled in Robert’s direction, their eyes halting on his wife beside him. “I seem to be most welcome,” Louisa said with a small grin.
“Quite.” Robert strode into the room and Louisa stayed on his heels.
“Where should I sit?”
“Anywhere you wish.”
Norman came behind him, slipping Robert’s jacket off his shoulders while Robert untied his cravat and draped it over his other articles of clothing. Louisa looked around.
“Or,” he continued, “you can stay beside me for the moment. But soon I will be busy, and you will have to entertain yourself.”
“It seems you gentlemen will be doing the entertaining,” she said beneath her breath.
“If you feel faint at any point, herald Gulliver and he can take you home.”
She straightened her shoulders, brow puckering. “Nonsense. I do not intend to swoon.”
“Good. I would hate to have to carry you home.” He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and Louisa’s eyes caught on the motion before jerking them away. Another hopeful sign that he tucked away to enjoy reliving later as he laid his head down for the night.
“Now,” he said, his voice low as he leaned close to her ear. “Should you happen to swoon at my brute strength, that is another story altogether.”
Louisa quirked a brow at him, but the grin tucked into the corner of her mouth gave her away. “You have become quite unbearable, Your Grace.”
He shrugged. “When I am here, I am not the Duke of Boroux—the stuffy man who considers his actions with painstaking detail. Here, I can just be another man.”
Her face softened. “Is that why you enjoy it?”
“One of the reasons, yes.”
Lord Griffith sidled up to him as Louisa went to find a seat, hands on his hips as he spared Louisa a glance. “What is she doing here, Boroux?”
