Ever since Griffin had returned from the war, Meredith had been adamant about never marrying again. She made it a point to say often and loudly that she had “absolutely no desire whatsoever” to tie the parson’s noose around her neck again. But a lover? A lover? It was unfathomable. He’d always assumed—perhaps incorrectly—that she’d had an unpleasant time of things with Maxwell when it came to marital relations. Honestly, Griffin hated thinking about it. But now she wanted a lover? Damn it. He was going to have to think about it. Quickly.
“When did you come to this decision?” He was trying his damnedest to keep the anger from sounding in his voice. He had no right to be angry, of course.
“Several weeks ago,” Meredith replied, a far-too-bright smile on her face.
“And you didn’t tell me?” His frown deepened.
“You didn’t tellmeyou had chosen a bride,” Meredith pointed out.
She had him there.
Damn. Damn. Damn. This wasn’t part of the plan. He’d intended to slowly reveal his feelings to her and then once she was amenable to the idea, he would point out that marriage to him would be far different from marriage to an old man. Then at the Midsummer Night’s Ball, he would fall to his knee, declare himself, and she would say yes. Just as she’d always dreamed. Just ashe’dalways dreamed.
Only he’d assumed that he would have time to discuss it with her first. Ensure she was amenable to the idea. He’d thought he’d have all Season, in fact. He had enough patience to wait. But now here she was forcing the issue.
“Do you already”—he had to clear his throat as the damned words were stuck—“have someone in mind?”Ugh. The question was bitter on his tongue.
“No,” she replied quickly.
A wave of relief sluiced through Griffin’s body. “How do you intend to find this man?” he bit out.
Meredith’s smile widened. “That’s the best part. I told Clare about it, and she told me about a club. Asecretclub where patrons find—ahem—interested parties. She says it’s a den of iniquity.”
Bile rose to the back of Griffin’s throat. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Whatclub?”
“It’s called the Onyx Club.”
Damn. Damn. Damn. Blast. Damn. And fuck. How did Clare Handleton know about the Onyx Club? Griffin had never been there. It wasn’t his sort of place. But Ash was a frequent patron, and Griffin had heard enough stories to know it was hardly the type of establishment Meredith should visit. Part gaming hell, part pleasure club, it was a location where theton’s most debauched members preferredto spend time. Everyone there wore masks so they wouldn’t be recognized, but according to Ash, most were thinly veiled disguises and the people wearing them weren’t particularly interested in whether they were identified.
Damn. Damn. Damn again. Griffin’s mind raced. He had a problem. A real one. Meredith had already declared that she would never marry, but if she was going to take a lover after all this time, he was going to ensure it washim.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three Nights Later, The Duke of Southbury’s Bedchamber
Griffin tugged viciously at the cuff of his white starched shirt. His valet had just finished helping him dress. In addition to the shirt, he wore buff-colored buckskin breeches, a sapphire waistcoat, and a white cravat. A black demi-mask lay on a nearby tabletop.
He stared at his reflection in the cheval glass in his dressing room and scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair. Fuck all. He was really going to do this. He was going to go to the Onyx Club tonight to keep an eye on Meredith.
He’d tried his damnedest the other night to talk her out of it. Tried every day since then too. He’d even begged her to allow him to come along to keep her safe. But she’d refused his every plea. The lady had made up her mind, and tonight was the night.
Of course Meredith going to the club was a horrible idea. He’d tried to explain that to her. But she was too blasted stubborn. Meredith had always been the sort who needed to experience things for herself. You couldn’t tell her anything.Hadn’t he tried—no, begged—her not to marry Maxwell? But she hadn’t listened then and she wouldn’t listen now. Griffin’s only choice was to watch her and make sure she didn’t get hurt. Ash would expect no less.
Oh, Griffin had toyed with the idea of trying to seduce her himself. After all, it would be an unholy temptation. But that would be wrong. Even if Meredith was looking for an intimate encounter with a stranger, it would be wrong to know who she was and not reveal his identity. But he could go to the club and watch her. Ensure she didn’t end up with a scoundrel or, worse, someone who would be rough with her. Hurt her. He clenched his fists. If anyone tried to hurt her, he’d kill the bastard.
Griffin shook his head and sharply sucked air in through his nose. He could only hope that once she arrived at the club, she would quickly realize the error in her judgement. After all, according to Ash, the Onyx Club wasn’t for the meek or the faint of heart. The only problem was…Meredith wasn’t meek. Far from it, actually. But would she truly go through with something as bold as taking a stranger as a lover?
There was only one way to know for certain.
Not half an hour later,Griffin’s coach dropped him at the back entrance of the Onyx Club. He’d been forced to do some serious acting when he’d asked Ash for advice on how to conduct himself inside.
Ash nearly had a laughing fit when Griffin informed him that he intended to spend an evening at the Onyx Club. Of course, Griffin hadnotinformed the marquess of his own sister’s intentions to go there. But after his laughter died down, Ash had realized that Griffin was quite serious.Ash told him about the secret entrance at the back of the club, where urchins ran back and forth summoning coaches. According to Ash, for the correct amount of coin tossed their way, they were quite discreet about the patrons’ identities. A gentleman’s coach carried his family seal, after all.
Mask firmly in place, Griffin entered the stone archway at the rear of the club, gave a pound note to the door attendant, and was shown to a special table in the back where he took a seat. He’d already heard the club rules from Ash. No names. No personal questions. And no sharing any stories about his time at the club. Simple enough.
Griffin ordered a brandy from a footman wearing gold and black livery and turned to watch the crowd. The ladies’ attire was a far cry from the demure gowns worn at thetonevents he was used to. The women here wore gowns pulled down so low their nipples were nearly exposed. Their skirts were cut up to their thighs. Their lips were painted red, and their hair was loosely held up by a few pins.
The men were equally relaxed. No overcoats. Relaxed cravats. Tight breeches that left very little to the imagination. They all wore demi-masks, but already Griffin recognized more than one person here. Thinly disguised, indeed. Ash had been right.
