Insatiable, p.5
Insatiable, page 5
“Or as Lady Evie once she marries Lord Gregory?”
“Indeed?” Con’s brows arched. “I hadn’t heard.”
Of course he hadn’t. He didn’t go out much because Sabrina limited her social engagements. She wasn’t comfortable in the frenzy of the London Season. Plus, Lucien imagined they would go out even less now that Robert had come along. “So, I can count on you to treat her kindly and with respect?” Once upon a time, Lucien would have expected Con to look down his nose at Evie, to find her unworthy of his notice.
“I’ve always found her charming, witty, and an excellent conversationalist. I will treat her the same as I always have since making her acquaintance last year at the club. And, because I’m certain you will ask, I will do my best to convince others to accept her in the same manner.”
Some of the tension left Lucien’s shoulders. “Thank you. That isn’t the primary reason I mentioned her, however. She is originally from France. She was born during the Terror and fled with her family as a baby, except for her father, who stayed behind and was imprisoned. They thought him dead all these years.”
Con looked at him intently. “But he wasn’t?”
“No. He was finally released and made his way to England, where a group of gentlemen help men like him find their families who came here. He and Evie were reunited two days ago.”
“That’s extraordinary.” Con shook his head gently. “I can’t imagine losing Robert and not seeing him for…how long?”
“At least two decades,” Lucien said. “The part that is truly astonishing, however, is who orchestrated their reunion.” Lucien paused. “It was the duke.”
Con’s hazel eyes widened. “Father?”
Lucien nodded, then took another drink.
“How do you know?”
“Evie met her father at Evesham House. Then she and Gregory came to tell me. I rather wish they hadn’t. It makes no sense to me. No, it’s worse than that. It angers me. Why is he so kind to others and not to me?” Hell. Lucien hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He hastened to add, “Apparently, his association is only temporary. Gregory’s father was a member of the group, and the duke stepped in after his death. He doesn’t plan to continue. I can’t understand why he’d do it at all. The man helps no one, not even his own children.”
Con opened his mouth, but Lucien went on, “You’ll say that he helped you, but he did so in his self-interest. You’re his heir. He needs to make sure you will carry on his legacy in a way that he sees fit.”
“It’s amazing to me that you’re this cynical about him and absolutely nothing else.” Con sipped his brandy.
Lucien ignored his brother’s criticism. “You’ve nothing to say about this behavior? You have to concede that it’s shocking.”
“I do, but he does possess a softer side, which he’d deny.”
“I’d also deny it. What proof do you have?”
Con looked down at his glass as he swirled the brandy in the bowl. “I haven’t ever told you this, but that day at Evesham House last year after that disastrous party Sabrina and I hosted, Father revealed that he blames himself for Mother’s death and that losing her was beyond devastating.”
Lucien wasn’t surprised to hear this. It certainly accounted for the duke’s nearly ever-present surliness. Still, it was shocking that he’d exposed any kind of vulnerability. “Why did he tell you this?”
“Because he was explaining to me why he’d chosen Sabrina as my wife. He didn’t think there was any chance I’d fall in love with her, ergo, if I lost her as Father lost Mother, I would not suffer the same devastation that he had. He hoped for that for all of us, actually.”
“What horseshit.” Lucien snorted. “That isn’t a softer side, that’s horrific manipulation. You should decide what you will and won’t risk.”
“Try to see his perspective, Lucien. I don’t think it had to make sense in his mind. It’s just what he felt he had to do to protect me.”
Is that why he basically didn’t show them love at all? Oh, he was proud of Con and fond of Cass. And he tolerated Lucien. What a frigid son of a bitch. “What kind of father hopes to keep their children from falling in love? Would you wish that for Robert?”
Con adjusted his weight in the chair. Or perhaps he squirmed. “No. But I haven’t been through what Father has.”
“You can’t be that understanding. He forced you and Sabrina together—against both of your wills.”
“Yes, and I was angry. It was terrible of him to manipulate us in that way.” Con exhaled. “But I don’t see the point in holding on to that. Perhaps if you ever have a son of your own, you’ll understand how emotions change, how things that seem vital really aren’t. Such as grudges and righteousness.”
Lucien wasn’t holding a grudge. His relationship with the duke was irreparably broken. “I suppose I’m glad you’ve made your peace with him, but you can’t expect me to do the same.” The duke hadn’t ever given Lucien any sort of explanation for his treatment of him, and Lucien didn’t think he ever would.
Con gave him a single nod. “I don’t suppose you asked him about the business with Evie’s father?”
Lucien scoffed. “Hardly. I did go to see him, and I’d planned to, but our conversation went poorly so I never got to it.”
“What did you discuss?”
“The club.” Lucien wouldn’t tell him that he’d gone asking for money. It was too painful to expose his rejection to the favored son. “On that note, since you mentioned it earlier, I wonder if I might impose upon you to spend a little more time there over the next month or so? While this scandal dies down. I know it’s difficult with Robert now.”
“Because there’s nowhere I would rather be than here with my wife and son, yes.” Con grinned, and Lucien felt a surge of warmth. His brother had rarely done that before he and Sabrina had fallen in love last year. “But I also want to help you as much as I can. I wasn’t very supportive of you when you opened the club.”
“I didn’t really encourage that. It wasn’t as if I made sure you were invited to join.”
“That’s true,” Con said with a wry glance. “I’m glad we are closer now. It means the world to me that you care for Robert too. I’ll do my best to come a few times a week. I’m sure Sabrina will join me, especially on Tuesdays. The Phoenix Club is one of the few places she feels comfortable.”
The Phoenix Club was unique in many ways, not the least of which was the divided nature of the club, with a men’s side and a ladies’ side. They each kept to their own spaces, with the exception of Tuesday nights when the men’s side was open to the ladies. The ladies’ side was never open to the men—just their half of the ballroom during the Friday assemblies during the Season.
“I’ll also try to have meetings there,” Con said. “Are there other gentlemen from the Lords whom you can invite to join?”
The House of Lords was not their primary recruiting ground. Indeed, it was probably the last place they looked since those gentlemen were typically engaged at White’s or Brooks’s. Still, there were several peers who were members, and even more younger sons who were seeking to make their way in the world since they weren’t heirs to a title. Men like Lucien.
“Probably. I’ll have to think on it. Though, don’t you think Hargrove and his cronies will keep others from accepting invitations?”
Con made a face, his nose wrinkling. “Hargrove is a dolt. Ignore him. He doesn’t have as much influence as he’d like to think. And no one cares for his wife. As you said, the scandal will fade. In the meantime, behave as if nothing is different.”
Except it was. “A few dozen people have already resigned,” Lucien said quietly. “Attendance has been lackluster.”
“It’s only been a few days,” Con reassured him. “Give it time. Do not write the club’s death notice. Where is my brother the optimist who fixes everything?”
“Why does everyone think I can fix everything?” Lucien tossed back the rest of his brandy.
“Because you usually do.” Con shrugged and finished his brandy as well.
They stood, and Con said he’d come to the club tomorrow night. Lucien thanked him and departed the drawing room.
Downstairs, Haddock handed him his hat and gloves. “Mrs. Haddock made sure your things were dry.”
Lucien pulled the gloves onto his hands and sighed. “And warm. Hug her for me, please.”
Setting his toasty hat on his head, he ventured into the cold afternoon, where the drizzle had faded to a fine mist. He decided to hail a hack to his house on King Street.
The door opened before he even reached the threshold. Lucien immediately removed his hat. “Reynolds, you’ve an uncanny sense for when I shall arrive.”
“There is a window, my lord.”
Lucien glanced toward the room to his left. “In the dining room.”
“Yes.” Reynolds took Lucien’s hat and gloves. A white man with receding dark hair and gray eyes, the butler was excessively tall with broad shoulders. “The post was delivered from the club. I put it in your study.”
Someone had delivered something on Sunday? “More resignations, probably.”
Lucien shared almost everything with his butler. The man had accompanied him home from Spain. Like Lucien, he’d been wounded. Unlike Lucien’s minor scars to his arm and back, Reynolds sported a rather vicious mark on his cheek. The red had faded to dark pink, but it made him look most fierce. That and the fact that he rarely smiled, which wasn’t to say he didn’t feel humor. He possessed perhaps the driest wit of anyone Lucien knew and was indeed quite affable. Because of his size, it was easy to believe he’d been a soldier and made him look slightly out of place as a butler.
He was, however, an excellent manager of Lucien’s household, not that it was large. There was just him, a maid, the cook, and a boy who worked in the scullery.
“Actually, there was only one letter,” Reynolds said.
“Well, that’s relieving.”
Reynolds looked him in the eye. “The club will be fine. I’ve no doubt of it.”
Lucien appreciated the man’s faith, even if it was likely misplaced. “How can you possibly know that?”
“Because you’re at the helm.” He inclined his head then departed the entrance hall with Lucien’s accessories.
Stalking straight to the back of the small terrace house where his study was located, Lucien removed his coat and draped it on the back of the chair at the desk in the corner. His gaze caught the painting hanging above it—a pair of hounds in the middle of a fall landscape, a riot of colorful trees casting leaves about them. In his mind, the hounds were a couple who’d already created several litters of pups together. They were comfortable with one another, their bond strong and enduring.
Why he’d paired them romantically was a mystery to Lucien, but that was who they were. Looking at the painting made him think of Kat and when she’d asked him why he had them. He realized every animal on the walls in this room had a story he’d concocted for them.
But why animals and not people? Because people could tell their stories, and Lucien could be wrong about them. This way, he could imagine what he liked, and he’d never know if it wasn’t true. It was silly now that he actually thought about it.
The letter Reynolds mentioned sat atop the desk. Lucien recognized the handwriting immediately. It was from Oliver Kent, his superior at the Foreign Office and one of the two anonymous members of the Phoenix Club membership committee. Kent, along with the other anonymous member, dictated who was invited and who was not. He was also responsible for instructing Lucien to expel Evie from her employment, as a patroness, and as a member.
Lucien had yet to tell him that he wasn’t going to do it, that when she returned from wedding Lord Gregory, things would continue as they had. She would be a member, a patroness, and manager of the club—if she still wanted to be.
Tensing, Lucien opened the missive. It was short and to the point, which was expected. Kent wanted to meet as soon as possible.
It was necessary of course, and it wasn’t as if Lucien could refuse. This situation was untenable. When Kent had sold him the idea of opening the Phoenix Club—secretly with the Foreign Office—as a place to act as a location for clandestine meetings, Lucien was to be the primary operator. For the most part, he was, but recent occurrences had made it clear he was not.
And yet, how would Kent go about replacing Lucien if they didn’t like what he was doing? It wasn’t as if they had another person who could take over. Furthermore, how would that look? All of London saw the Phoenix Club as Lucien’s. If he suddenly walked away, it simply wouldn’t make sense.
That gave Lucien bargaining power. He intended to use it.
Chapter 4
Kat had reread the notes she’d made after the soirée the night before last at least a dozen times. She’d recorded several questions to ask Lucien the next time they met, the latest being: What do breasts have to do with mating?
She’d been reviewing the book with the drawings, and in the one where the man was lying on top of the woman, he had his hand on her breast.
“Kat?” Cass called from the doorway as she pushed into Kat’s chamber.
Startled, Kat turned the notes over on the desk. She was glad she’d already put the book away.
“Was my door open?” Kat asked. It was unlike Cass to walk in uninvited, but Kat hadn’t realized the door wasn’t closed.
“Yes. Am I disturbing you?”
The maid must have left it ajar. “No,” Kat said, rising from her chair.
“Oh, good.” Cass smiled. “I, ah, wanted to speak with you about what happened in the retiring room the other night.”
Kat moved to the small seating area in front of the hearth, where there were two small, but cozy chairs. She sat down on the edge of one of the chairs. “Is this about me not waiting for you and Fiona? I should have done, and I apologize.”
Cass joined her, perching on the other chair. “Well, yes, you should have, but no, that’s not what I wish to discuss.”
“Did I do something else wrong?” Kat asked. That was typically what prompted this sort of conversation. Kat wasn’t always good at social interactions. She didn’t mean to offend anyone, but she had never mastered the art of prevarication and frankly didn’t feel the need to.
“Not wrong, no,” Cass said kindly. “However, your behavior might provoke Lady Wenlock and Mrs. Hanbury to share what happened, misrepresenting their conversation, of course, which could reflect poorly on you.”
“On me? I wasn’t the one gossiping and saying horrid things about others.” Kat scowled toward the hearth with its glowing coals. “I will never understand Society,” she grumbled.
“I know, and I agree that it doesn’t make sense.”
“You can’t tell me you care about this. Anyone who gossips about what I said to them is guilty of the same transgression I chided them for.”
“That’s true. However, we are doing our best to keep, ah, gossip to a minimum because of the situation at the Phoenix Club.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing directly, but you are my sister-in-law, and Lucien is my brother. We want to make sure there is nothing else for people to talk about with regard to him.”
Kat thought this was stretching credulity, but she didn’t want to cause Lucien problems, especially when he’d agreed to help her. “I understand. I’ll try to keep quiet. It’s dreadfully hard sometimes.”
“I know, and I love what you said on Evie’s behalf. I was quite proud, actually. If it weren’t for the timing, I would encourage you to continue. However, it won’t help you in the long term, particularly if you truly wish to wed. Sometimes—almost always, in fact—it’s better to ignore people.”
Kat could acknowledge that was true while also finding great fault with it. “I disagree with that, and I’ll never keep quiet for the sake of others’ comfort or to make myself more acceptable. I don’t give a fig about my reputation. If that means I never find a husband, then so be it.” She fully expected that to be the case anyway and was absolutely fine with spinsterhood. “But I’ll do this now for you—and for Lucien.”
“Thank you,” Cass said, glancing toward the desk. “Are you hard at work on something? We barely saw you yesterday, and you didn’t come to church.”
Kat rarely went to church and only when her mother made her. There were so few clergymen who could orate well. “Just working on some research. You know I’ve long been interested in mating rituals.” Kat wouldn’t tell her exactly what she was doing, but perhaps Cass could be helpful…
“What animal are you studying now?”
“I’ve actually been thinking about people. At the soirée, I observed people as they danced and conversed. It’s interesting to watch flirtation—and avoidance.”
“It is indeed. I sometimes think wallflowers have the best position in Society. They see and hear so much.”
“How would you know?” Kat asked sarcastically but with a smile to soften the question.
Cass laughed. “That is a valid question. I have never been a wallflower, but then I was only out for a short period before I married your brother.”
“Yet you were already two and twenty.” A year older than Kat was now. “That’s rather old for a first Season, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I kept putting it off.” Cass turned her head toward the fire, her features tightening. “I was sad that my mother wasn’t here to sponsor me. My friends would go shopping with their mothers, and plan endlessly. I just…I didn’t want to do it without her.” She looked back at Kat with a frail smile.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. How old were you when she died?”
“Seven. I know it seems silly to have not got over it, but I’m not sure I ever will.”
“And why should you? I’ve never understood that about grief. When we lose someone, especially if they were very close to us, how is it not as if a piece of your heart has gone missing?”
Cass pressed a finger to the corner of her eye. “Yes, that’s it exactly.”
