Page 62 of Dare to Love a Duke
“Yes, madam.” Effie quickly walked out back to where the pump was, leaving Lucia alone with Tom.
“If you have no objections,” he said lightly as he leaned against the large table, “I might henceforth take all my meals here.”
She felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Surely they feed you properly in Mayfair.”
“But the company here is excellent,” he countered evenly. “No ceremony, no dull tedium.”
She hadn’t considered that anyone of rank and privilege might find any part of their lives dull or tedious. But it made sense that, if habituated to all privilege, things like never-ending beefsteak on expensive china became dreary.
Ah, to have such problems...
“And what of your mother, your sister?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips.
“I’ll bring them, too,” he said magnanimously. “They’ll enjoy themselves. Mam never could resist a bit ofcraic,and Maeve would find life belowstairs fascinating.And, Idoown this house.”
The irony struck Lucia, and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out one caustic laugh. “Yes, I can hear it now, ‘Mama, dearest sister, please dine with me with the staff of the Orchid Club. What’s the Orchid Club? Merely a jolly place where the people of London wear masks and fuck. Won’t that be a fun family outing?’”
There was such disparity between her and the duke’s family, a gulf that could never be bridged. A shard of resentment buried itself in her heart.
“Perhaps inviting my mother and sister might be a trifle ill-advised,” he said, his expression grim. He looked, at that moment, very alone.
She exhaled, releasing her grip on her bitterness. Neither of them could help being born into their lives.
“They still don’t know about this place?” she asked gently.
“No, and I’ll go to my grave with the secret. At all costs, they must be protected.” His expression turned even more somber.
“Your father kept this place hidden from them for years,” she said quietly. “You’ll keep the confidence for decades to come.”
Hopefully, he drew strength from her assurances.
He lifted his brows. “You truly see this place in business for decades?”
“In truth? I can’t say.” She rubbed at her forehead as she thought of the years to come. “When I worked at Mrs. Chalke’s in Covent Garden, I knew all girls of our profession had a short time before we aged out—and it wasn’t work I planned on pursuing forever. Even mistresses lose their bloom after a while.”
His expression turned contemplative. “Never gave much thought to the business of sex.”
“Itisa business. Becoming part of the Orchid Club held much better prospects for me. Someday,” she said, hearing wistfulness in her voice, “I would love to leave it behind, too. Just run the home for girls... but we’ll need steady income, and in London it’s easier to get a lungful of coal smoke than an extra tuppence.”
She let out a long breath. “That’s a discussion for another day. For now, you and I have an appointment with a closet.”
“We keep lost and forgotten garments here,” Lucia said, pulling open the door to a narrow closet. Piled high were shirts, chemises, shoes, and dozens more pieces of clothing.
“Anyone ever claim these?” Tom asked.
“Never. But I hold on to them for a few months. Today, I’ll sort through them, wash the ones that are in good condition, and donate the lot to a few charitable organizations in Whitechapel and Bethnal Green.”
He held up a waistcoat to his torso, but the garment was much shorter and wider than his body.
“Doesn’t stop for you,” he said softly, “does it?”
“What doesn’t?” She plucked a few chemises from the pile and looked for fabric that was too thin from use, and tears that couldn’t be easily repaired. “Set the usable garments at your feet.”
“Thinking of others.” He set the waistcoat down before picking up a single shoe.
“We’ve no use for lone shoes. Put what can’t be used over here.” She pointed to a spot on the floor, allowing the task to take over so she couldn’t lose herself in the significance of his words. “Ovviamente,I’m not constantly worrying about other people. Need to feed myself, and remember to take a bath now and again.”
“You said you’d been born in Naples, your father was English. That’s what brought you to England.” He studied her. “Yet you wound up in Covent Garden—so I’m guessing your English family didn’t welcome you with open arms.”
