“A ghost, Denny? What fanciful nonsense is this?”
“I must follow him,” Denny said, with a jerk of his hands that set the greys dancing. “I must go into White’s.”
“Cannot be done, my friend,” Lance said. “I am not a member.”
“I know but… I have to do it… it will drive me mad, otherwise. I have toknow.But not in these clothes. I need proper clothes. Will you lend me something, Lance? We are much of a size. I have to look the part.”
“You are going to force your way into White’s?”
“One way or another, I am, and you are coming with me… for support. Do not fail me, my good friend. Stand by me, I beg you.”
“Of course,” Lance said simply.
They drove back to Mount Street, where Denny hurled clothes out of Lance’s wardrobe until he found exactly what he was looking for. He knew every garment intimately, having valeted Lance for several years, but once clothed in the attire of a gentleman, the valet was gone completely.
“You certainly look the part,” Lance said. “You would pass muster inside any of the clubs, but how will you get past the doorman?”
“That is a most pertinent question,” Denny said. “I cannot tell you, but I must try. Come, let us go.”
“William can have the curricle round in five minutes.”
“No time. We will walk.”
And walk they did, Lance almost running to keep up with Denny’s rapid pace, striding oblivious of the crowds through Berkeley Square, down Berkeley Street and across Piccadilly into St James’s Street until he came to White’s. There he stopped, breathing heavily. Above them, a face in the famous bow window turned to watch them, then looked away, uninterested.
“Will your ghost still be inside?” Lance said gently. “It is more than an hour since he entered.”
“Oh yes… probably, unless he has changed his habits. Lance, my friend… my very good friend… I have no idea how this is going to go. Even if I can get inside and find the ghost… I might be wrong. There is a very real danger that I am making a terrible mistake, and this will end badly for me.Verybadly. Will you stand my friend, no matter what happens?”
“You have no need to ask,” Lance said quietly. “I am always your friend.”
“Whatever happens?”
“Whether good or ill, whatever happens.”
Denny took a deep breath. “Then let us enter.”
23: A Visit To White's
Lance followed Denny up the steps. At the top, the doorman watched them approach impassively.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said, as they reached the door, smiling but moving so that he blocked their way. “May I be of service?”
“Smithson?” Denny said, peering at him with a frown. “Good Lord, how did you ever get to be Head Doorman?”
“Not quite there yet, sir,” the doorman said, staring at Denny. “Is it—? Can it be—? Mr Wyatt?”
“Very well done, Smithson.”
Lance’s eyebrows lifted. It was both unexpected and yet, oddly, not a surprise. He had always known that Denny was a gentleman, so to find him acknowledged as a member of White’s was not terribly shocking. And yet… after ten years as Denzil Pendleton, now he was revealing himself as one of the Wyatt family, and whatever secret he hid was about to be exposed.
The doorman swung open the door and they entered the hall. “It’s wonderful to see you back here, sir, I’m sure. Would youcare to sign your friend in? Mr Augustus and Mr Marcus are in the coffee room.”
Denny signed Lance’s name in the book, and then said, “Actually, I am looking for Lord Liswood.”
“Liswood?” The doorman frowned, shaking his head slightly.
Beside Lance, Denny’s intake of breath was audible, and he swayed a little, as if he was about to swoon. “Then I was mistaken in thinking I saw him enter an hour or so ago.”
