Page 16 of Eliza and the Duke
Together they hurried across the road, dodging the cab that came from the opposite direction and had slowed to gawk at the spectacle of the arrivals. They had each worn a nondescript black cloak and hat with veil, but that didn’t stop pedestrians they passed from looking at them in curiosity.
Around back, they spotted a servants’ entrance. A wrought iron railing was set into the sidewalk surrounding a narrowset of stairs that led to the lower level. Hopefully, the door would be unlocked.
“Eliza, I don’t know about this.” Jenny’s voice wobbled a bit when they approached the stairwell.
The door was cracked open; clanging and clattering came from inside, the sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen, she’d guess. “You can’t back out now.” She grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled her toward the steps. “We won’t get in trouble. We’ll stay hidden.”
Jenny nodded but worry clouded her eyes. They carefully made their way down the steps and inside the building. The kitchen was on the left and it bustled with activity. Shouts in several different languages accompanied the clanging of metal pots, so no one noticed them as they slipped by. The corridor made a turn, putting them in the path of a maid who hurried toward them with a tray at her side. She passed them without a second glance on her way to the kitchen. Another turn put them at the foot of a set of stairs that led up one floor to another service corridor. This one was much busier with servants scurrying around, and the walls were thin enough they could hear the club’s guests through it. Eliza tried a door and it opened.
The elegant hallway was packed with people who chatted and laughed as they made their way deeper into the club. Men made up the majority of the crowd, but there were a fair few women dressed in finery. They wore satins and silks with sparkling embellishments and detailed embroidery. The men wore dark suits with silk ties, some with waistcoats, and some made of coarse wool. She imagined they were a mix of professionals, nobility, and students.
Eliza hadn’t dared wear anything too extravagant because she had thought it would be better to blend in and she hadn’t wanted to risk soiling it. The precious few gowns they hadbeen able to afford were to be saved for Society events. She pulled her cloak around her to hide the plainness of her dress.
“Come,” she said to Jenny. “It looks as if everyone is going this way.”
Jenny nodded and they worked their way into the flow of the crowd. Last time Eliza had been in Montague Club, she’d been upstairs. This part of the club had dark paneled walls, gleaming parquet floors, and gaslight sconces lining the wide hall. When they passed a footman positioned in an alcove with a tray of champagne, Jenny took two glasses for them, giggling like a schoolgirl as she handed Eliza hers.
“Merde,” Jenny muttered and stopped short.
“What?” Eliza looked to her sister and then followed Jenny’s gaze across the crowd.
Two doors had been opened ahead, and from the glimpse she had through the shoulders and heads in front of her, it looked like a ballroom. A giant crystal chandelier glittered with the light of hundreds of candles. That wouldn’t have jarred her sister. Eliza looked harder, her gaze darting over the crowd flooding into the ballroom, until it caught on a blond head. A shot of trepidation quivered in her stomach. The man turned his head to speak to his companion and she got a clear view of his profile. It was unmistakably Devonworth. He had the profile of a classical statue.
“It’s fine,” Eiza said, though she wasn’t entirely certain it was. “We knew he was attending. We must simply avoid him.”
Jenny shook her head as if she didn’t think their chances of that were good.
“Is Cora with him?” Eliza asked.
“I think…” Jenny moved from the left to the right to see around the man in front of her. “Yes, I see red hair. She must be here.”
Damn. “Okay, we’ll watch which direction they go and turn the other way.” Nothing was going to stop her from getting to Simon tonight.
Jenny nodded and grabbed her arm. When it was their turn to enter the already crowded ballroom, they fled to the opposite side of the large room. It was lit up with two massive chandeliers and gold sconces along the wall. The ceilings were vast and inlaid with intricate carvings and designs. The floors were shining parquet wood and the walls white and gold. This end of the room had bars of various lengths affixed to the wall at different heights. She had heard people whispering that the ballroom had become the club’s gymnasium, as if this were scandalous, but it might very well be true. Montague Club was noted for its exercise apparatuses along with its bare-knuckle brawling club.
A large square ring took up the center of the room. Double rows of black silken ropes around fifteen feet long enclosed it. The whole thing was on a raised dais so that the spectators could have a better view of what was to come. Excitement chased the trepidation away. She lifted up her veil and Jenny followed suit. It was too crowded for their brother-in-law and Cora to notice them anyway.
“Let’s go over here.” Jenny indicated a space a few yards away that was a little more open and where they wouldn’t have to look over the shoulders of the men in front of them.
Eliza agreed and they headed in that direction, but they got there at the same time as a group of young men. Eliza placed them for university students from their disheveled hair and the fine but worn look of their coats.
“What have we here?” One of them smirked. “I didn’t know the club provided this sort of entertainment.” He reached out to touch Jenny’s cheek, but her sister pulled away.
“Keep your hands to yourself, sir,” she said, none too kindly.
The friend to his left laughed. “You’re a lively one and an American.” Damn, they’d meant to keep from talking to anyone so they didn’t draw attention to themselves. “How about you?” Then he reached out and placed his hand on Eliza’s shoulder, but she managed to shrug away from his advance. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to make friends?”
“We came to watch the brawl, not make friends,” she said.
The third student had used their inattention to walk around behind the sisters. He put a hand indecently low on each of their backs at the bend of their waists. Squeezing, he effectively blocked them in. “Nice ladies don’t come to brawls alone not hoping to make friends.” His voice was so close that Eliza could feel his breath tickle her earlobe and smell the stale liquor he’d drunk earlier.
“They’re not alone,” the clipped and cultured tones of a familiar voice said.
The men glanced to the newcomer as Lord David Felding strode up to them. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit with a maroon brocade waistcoat. His dark hair was swept back with pomade, and he exuded a smooth confidence that gave his expression a slightly haughty cast. He was one of Devonworth’s dearest friends, so they had encountered him at numerous events over the course of the Season. As the brother of the Duke of Strathmore, he’d been born to privilege, and every bit of that shone in his expression.
The student who’d spoken first didn’t seem inclined to give up his find, so he chose not to believe him. “Leave off—”
Before he could finish the sentence, Lord David’s hand moved faster than a striking snake and grabbed him around the throat just under his jaw. The boy made a choking sound butdidn’t otherwise move. Lord David had lifted him so that he was poised on his toes, rendering him immobile.
