From the way Thorne had spoken of Mr.Simon Rook, it didn’t sound as if he was the sort of man a girl should run to when in distress.There was unlikely to be any help at the top of those stairs.
She was on her own.
If she screamed the house down, someone would probably come to her aid.But once she caused a scene here, it would be all but impossible to get anyone to speak with her quietly and secretly about the goings-on of the club and one of its more infamous members, even if she came back on a different night.
In a flash, Lucy decided she would only scream as a last resort.In the meantime, surely she could outwit this inebriated lout.
Putting a hand on her hip, Lucy adopted a flirtatious smile that felt only a little strained at the edges.“Ah, ah!Don’t be cheeky.I’m not allowed to take gentleman callers back here—rules are rules!But if you’ll just follow me back out to the card room?—”
“Rules don’t apply to viscounts, ’s I was jus’ explaining to Rook up there.”The man gave an imperious hiccup.“I’ll have you here and now.”
Keeping her back to the wall, Lucy shifted slowly to her left.To her relief, the drunken viscount squinted at her and shuffled his feet as well to keep her in his sights.“You don’t want to be entertained here in a nasty, drafty stairwell, my lord!Let me show you to a comfortable bedchamber.”
All she had to do was get him back out onto the floor, in public, where she could draw Thornecliff’s attention.
She didn’t wish to examine her bone-deep trust that Thornecliff would step in and rescue her.There was a time, not so very long ago, when she would have presumed he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger in aid of someone else.
Something had changed, but now was not the moment for Lucy to figure out what.
“A bedchamber, by Jove,” the man slurred, red-rimmed eyes flaring with lust.
Lucy fought to keep the anger and disgust off her face.Only a few more feet…
Her hand behind her back found the doorjamb.The card room was behind that door.Quick as a flash, she whirled and scrabbled for the door handle but the viscount caught her just as her straining fingertips reached it.
With a breathless shout, she flung the door open.The viscount, unsteady on his feet, slammed into her, thrusting both of them through the open doorway in a tumble of peacock silk and whisky fumes.
Lucy righted herself, wincing at the way the man’s tenacious grip on her arm wrenched at her wrist.The tables nearest them turned to stare.Embarrassment scorched across Lucy’s cheeks and all the way down to her chest, which infuriated her—why should she be embarrassed!This mannerless pig thought he was entitled to take liberties with any woman who crossed his path—he was the one who ought to be ashamed.
Yet it was Lucy who blushed and felt unwanted tears burning at the backs of her eyes.
After years of living on her own, taking care of herself and relishing her freedom, it was galling to be made to feel small and weak.Helpless.
Incensed, she rounded on the drunken viscount, who appeared taken aback for a moment by what must surely have been incandescent rage on Lucy’s face.But he recovered quickly enough when the men watching began to jeer and shout encouragement, including suggestions about what he should do with Lucy that made her want to box all their ears.
“Let go of me at once,” Lucy hissed, pulling at her wrist.
But the red-faced gentleman clung with the tenacity of a man who’d all but forgotten what he was doing and was damned well going to keep doing it until he remembered.“Nothing doing,” he crowed, loudly enough for the onlookers to hear.“I’m of a mind to tup.So show me to that bedchamber you was talking about, and let’s get to it!”
Of course, that was the exact moment that a silken voice filtered through the chaos.“What on earth do you think you’re about, Chicheley?”
“Ah, Thornecliff,” the drunk cried.Viscount Chicheley, Lucy supposed.“Caught myself a bird of the night, what?She’s offered to take me to one of the upstairs rooms, but I shan’t be long about it.Happy to hand her off to you when I’m finished.”
“I’m not a bird of the night,” Lucy burst out furiously, twisting her arm in his grip.“Tell him, Thornecliff.”
That made Chicheley pause for an instant, a bewildered expression on his broad, florid face.“I mean, you’re a demirep.A lightskirt,” he clarified helpfully.“A whore.”
“I’m not!”Lucy pinned Thornecliff with a glare as he finally took a lazy, gliding step forward.“Tell him I’m not a whore!”
“She’s not a whore,” Thornecliff parroted calmly.
Looking even more confused, Chicheley belched.“But…she’s here at Sharpe’s.She must be a whore.She offered to take me up to a room.”
Thornecliff eyed Lucy with interest.“Did you?”
That mocking drawl.Lucy hated it.She hadn’t the faintest notion what was going on in his head.Was the cad enjoying this?“What are you playing at?Make this swine let me?—”
Chicheley cut her off with an aggrieved, “That’s how it works at Sharpe’s!Everybody knows.Everything on the floor is up for grabs, to the man who bids the highest for it, and I’m willing to pay!”
