The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(49)
Chapter Twenty
“Keep an eye on Lord Michaels.” Andrew shut the peephole, having seen enough of the drunken nob’s belligerent swagger. “Water down his drinks, and post Tim by his room. If Lord Michaels so much as raises his voice at Lizzie, he’s out on his arse.”
The wall sconces cast shadows across Grier’s rugged countenance. “I’ll see to it.”
It was midnight, and the two of them were carrying out the nightly rounds from the hidden corridors that ran through the club. Andrew had a vantage point into every room: the club was his domain, and he didn’t take the responsibility lightly. Everyone who entered Corbett’s knew the rules. Patrons unwise enough to abuse the wenches—or trespass in other ways—would be dealt with severely. Enforcing the rules was no easy task and kept Andrew on his toes.
Usually, he liked the challenge. Tonight, however, he was tired from lack of sleep and unabated arousal. The two days since he’d issued his ultimatum to Primrose felt like millennia.
Why hadn’t she come to him? Had he overplayed his hand? Misjudged the situation?
“There’s something else, sir.”
Annoyed that he was moping like some lovelorn greenling, he said curtly, “Yes?”
Grier’s look was grim. “One of the guards you have posted at the Nursery House reported in. There was another incident.”
Andrew’s shoulders tensed. “Malcolm Todd’s men?”
“Aye, sir. They were attempting to block deliveries to the house. The grocer was scared witless by the time our boys noticed what was happening and chased off the buggers.”
Devil take Todd. Andrew’s hands fisted. “Request an audience with Bartholomew Black. We’re sorting this business out once and for all.”
Not much intimidated Grier, but at the mention of the King of the Underworld, he grimaced. “You ken what involving Black could lead to?”
“I’m not doing this dance with Todd. If he wants to challenge me, he’ll have to do it in the open and with the King as his witness,” Andrew declared. “If he still wants bloodshed, then by God I’ll give it to him.”
Grier’s chin jerked in acknowledgement. “Anything else, sir?”
“Just keep an eye on Lord Michaels and Lizzie. I’ll finish the rounds on my own.”
The factotum exited to attend to his tasks, and Andrew continued on to the upper floors. He walked soundlessly behind the walls, stopping to make quick checks on the proceedings. Sex was happening in a variety of configurations: couples, ménage à trois, a rollicking orgy in the ever popular Sultan’s Seraglio. It was business as usual, the mayhem controlled—which was more than he could say about the situation with Malcolm Todd.
If that matter wasn’t handled carefully, damage could be severe on both sides.
He returned to the first floor, a commotion in the corridor beyond catching his attention. He heard one of the footmen inquire with heavy suspicion as to a guest’s purpose.
“I assure you I was invited here by Mr. Corbett.” The feminine voice sent his heartbeat into a gallop. “I was on my way to his office and got turned about—”
Andrew pressed a switch, the panel in the wall swinging open like a door. He stepped into the hallway, noting with relief that it was empty save for the footman and Primrose, the latter once again dressed in black and heavily veiled.
“I’ll take it from here,” he told the footman. “Have refreshments sent to my quarters.” After the servant left to do his bidding, he crooked a finger at Primrose. “You—come with me.”
She followed him into the passageway, and he closed the panel behind them.
The instant they were sealed in privacy, she whipped up her veil and breathed, “Is this a secret corridor? How exciting! Does it go all around—”
He silenced her by laying a finger upon her lips. Goddamn, her mouth was plush, silky and inviting. He couldn’t resist stroking her bottom lip with his thumb and hid a smile when he heard her breath catch.
While risky, his move had paid off: she’d come to him at last.
“If you’d let me know of your plans,” he said huskily, “I would’ve prepared a proper welcome.”
“I wasn’t planning to visit,” she averred, “but I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was that I had to see you. The next thing I knew, I was sneaking out of Polly’s house and hiring a hackney to come here.”
“You took a hackney at night—by yourself?” He frowned, some of his satisfaction fading. “That is too dangerous by far.”
“Something’s happened. You’re the only one I can talk to. It’s a matter of utmost exigency.”
Despite her flair for the dramatic, the urgency in her voice was real. Panic fleeted through her luminous eyes. His joy at her appearance was tempered with sudden foreboding.
“We’ll talk in my suite,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led the way toward his private rooms, which were cloistered at the back of the building. The air grew sultrier as they walked, her clean feminine scent pervading his nostrils. The sounds of the club’s activities hummed through the walls: rowdy conversation, scattered laughter… and the guttural resonance of sex.
He’d long grown immune to the noises, but Primrose’s presence was like a lightning rod, amplifying his sensual awareness. The acoustics in the passageway seemed intensified, moans and groans surrounding him. Her perfume twined with memories of her taste, the sweet flavors of her mouth and pussy.