Simon stared at him. “You think I’m boring?”
“You don’t really have any interesting stories to tell,” Yates said.
“Because you never do anything worth mentioning,” Hawthorne added.
Simon looked at them each in turn. “If I’m so boring, then why the hell do you keep my company?”
“You’re my moral compass,” Hawthorne said.
“Considering some of my other friends,” Yates said, “being seen with you on occasion is good for my reputation.”
“We enjoy playing cards with you too,” Hawthorne added. “You’re not easy to beat.”
“Right,” Simon said when neither man added anything further. He stood. “I think it’s time for a change of scene.”
“Don’t be like that,” Yates said. “We’re just being honest.”
“Yes. Thank you for that.” Simon glared at them both. “I’m leaving.”
“It’s only a little after nine,” Hawthorne protested. “Please don’t tell me you’re already going home.”
“Of course not,” Simon said. It had been his intention to do precisely that. A warm bath and a glass of brandy before bed would be heavenly, but with his friends pressing him for an answer, he quickly changed his mind. “I’m doing something different.”
“Are you really?” Hawthorne asked.
“Yes.” Simon added a nod. “If you can visit Amourette’s, then so can I.”
“Do you think he’ll really do it?” Yates asked Hawthorne while Simon started toward the exit. He’d not gone more than two paces before he heard Hawthorne say, “Probably not. Care to wager?”
Gritting his teeth, Simon continued toward the foyer where he collected his hat and gloves before stepping outside. Everything he’d ever done had been with Society’s approval in mind. His parents had drilled the notion of keeping a perfect façade in place at all times into him from an early age. When he’d taken a fall as a child, tears had not been permitted.
“You must never look weak,” Papa had said while Mama denied him the comfort he’d so dearly wanted.
This, together with countless other lessons in how a peer ought to behave, had shaped his awareness of how the world perceived him. It was among the reasons he’d always allowed Society to dictate his actions and his behavior. But maybe it was time for a change – time for him to break free just a little.
He’d show his friends. Stuffy and boring indeed. Ha! A detailed description of Amourette’s interior would prove to them both he’d been there. And then they’d be forced to eat their words.
As had become her habit of late, Ida Veronica Strong snuck from her bedchamber at Amourette’s and made her way quietly onto the landing. She was supposed to remain hidden, but after four years of doing so, of not venturing out, and of only engaging in conversation with the women who worked here, she’d begun relaxing that rule a little. Her aunt, Philipa Harding, who ran the brothel, would disapprove if she knew. And perhaps she’d be right to do so. Philipa had made a promise to Ida’s father – had assured him she would protect his daughter and keep her safe from those who’d betrayed him. And so she had. With Carlton Guthrie’s help.
Once the Scoundrel of St. Giles, now the Duke of Windham, the former crime lord who’d owned The Black Swan tavern and whose real name was Valentine Sterling, had come to her rescue before, one year ago when she’d been kidnapped and made available to the highest bidder at a vile auction. He was a good man at heart and although Ida knew much of London continued to fear him, the story of his plight along with the truth concerning his actions had helped redeem him. Principled and a longtime friend of Philipa’s, he’d placed Ida under his protection as soon as he’d learned of her situation. And when he’d married Lady Regina Berkly last year and relocated to Windham House, he’d told Ida to seek him out if she ever needed his help.
She hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. One year still remained until she reached her majority and received the money her father had left her, but once she did, she would be free to go anywhere in the world. Free to start over somewhere fresh where no one would know who she was. Free to put the loneliness of her current existence behind her. Free to marry and start a family of her own, preferably with a man who could love her as much as her father had loved her mother. Most importantly, she would be free to escape the danger she faced until she got out of the country.
Death had almost claimed her once before because of the threat she posed. Shot and left for dead after publically vowing to hunt down the man who’d sent her father to the gallows, she’d heeded her aunt ever since, had accepted that her life was not worth risking – that it wasn’t what her father would have wanted – and that it was best to stay hidden.
Lowering herself to the floor at the top of the stairs, she prepared to watch the goings-on in the foyer below. The men who came here to enjoy a decadent evening of debauchery included only those with enough coin to afford it. This wasn’t the sort of cheap establishment one might expect in St. Giles, but one that prided itself on quality. The exclusivity kept the riffraff away and even resulted in the occasional peer walking through the doors.
Everything was possible here, every fantasy just one payment away from being realized. Provided no harm came to the girls. They weren’t dressed in common clothes but in silk and lace with dozens of ribbons, the occasional feathers, and enough crystal beads to dazzle any man looking to have a good time. Few clients were bachelors. The majority were either betrothed or married, which was why Amourette’s was as popular as it was. Because it promised discretion.
Leaning forward for a clearer look, Ida watched as Philipa played the hostess. She paired each man who arrived with one of the available courtesans, who then either escorted her companion into the parlor or upstairs to her bedchamber. None of the men ever spotted Ida. They were much too preoccupied by the courtesans to do so, and in any case, she was sitting away from the steps, on the landing just past the spot where the banister turned.
Her face pressed against the balusters for a better view. She’d recognized the previous man who’d arrived. He was a regular client who came once a week and always asked to see the same girl. Ida watched as her aunt escorted him toward the red parlor, engaging him in conversation as they went. Their voices eventually faded, leaving nothing but silence behind in the now empty foyer.
The front door opened again and a new gentleman entered. Seen from above, it was hard for Ida to gauge his height except by measuring him against the painting that hung immediately to his left. His shoulders appeared to reach the lower part of the frame, making him several inches taller than she. He removed his hat, allowing her to see the top of his head, which was covered by lustrous hair colored in shades of oak and chestnut brown. His build was both imposing yet somehow elegant at the same time. Perhaps because of the authoritative way in which he moved that suggested high social standing and power.
He glanced around and, finding no one about, looked up.
Ida froze. Even though she knew she ought to hide, she could not seem to move. Her gaze locked with his, her heart pounding harder with each passing second. Heavens, he was far more handsome than she had expected, perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen.
