Page 14 of My Deceitful Duchess
Down the hall toward the scullery there were the shuffling sounds, the clink of dishes and silverware that told her that the staff was still in the midst of cleaning, and would be for some time. It was not unusual for Jenny to go walking after dark had fallen in the early morning hours betwixt Saturday evening and Sunday morning.
But itwasunusual for a man to linger in the shadows of the rear entrance, standing so very still. So still she would not have seen him had she not been looking for him—still enough that any of the staff that might have chanced to glance through the windows would not have spotted him there, either.
She retrieved the key from her pocket and slipped it into the lock, twisting it to secure the door, and when she turned once again, Mr. Knight had eased out of the shadows, extending his arm to her.
Like any gentleman would to a lady. Like he had never dared during their morning walks, because it was odd enough that he walkedwithher. She wasn’tquitenotorious—the scandal of Ambrosia’s opening had dimmed a bit in the last few weeks—but neither was sherespectable. Not in the way a proper lady would have been.
She was not the sort of woman a mancourted. She was the sort a manpropositioned. It did not offend her, this reality, because she had had a great deal more freedom as a seamstress and then as a club manager than she ever had as a duchess.
She was free, in fact, to set her hand upon the arm of a man she knew wished to bed her, and stroll the streets of London at an entirely improper hour of the night. Which she did, her fingers comfortably finding the soft woolen pleat of his coat where it folded in on itself at the bend of his elbow.
“I notice,” she said, “that you did not elect to remark uponmylateness, Mr. Knight.”
“It is a lady’s prerogative to be late,” he replied easily, and in the darkness that deep voice of his shivered into her ears. “Besides, I think you know I would have waited.”
She had granted him just seven minutes in the waiting this morning, and had not particularly thought beyond them. And she had kept him waiting quite a bit longer. Still, she heard herself ask, “How long?”
“I don’t know. But certainly it would not have been overly long.” He said it with such confidence that she had to smile at the cheek of it—as if he were convinced thatherfascination ran as deeply as his own. “After all,” he said. “Sunrise is not so very many hours off. Certainly I could expect you for your morning pastries.”
Some strange emotion flipped her heart over in her chest. Not cheek at all, then. Only a casual declaration that he would have waited for her until dawn. For only a few minutes in her company to the bakery and back.
Her coin purse rattled in her pocket as she took those first few steps, and the catch of her hand in the crook of his elbow ensured he stayed by her side.
“No questions as to our destination?” she asked. It had surprised her that he had not peppered her with him, considering he seemed very much to enjoy interrogating her.
“I imagine it will become evident presently,” he said. “I would rather ask instead how it was you become involved in the running of a ladies’ club.” He let her lead their walk, but he steered away her from patches of light, as if he knew she would prefer to avoid notice.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s not so very much a mystery. Years ago, Lottie came into my dress shop. It was pouring rain, and I offered her tea and the use of my back room in which to drink it. She was—very kind.” A fond sigh. “Much kinder than most ladies are to shop owners.”
“So you struck up a friendship,” he said.
“Of a sort. As much as a woman of my station can be said to be friends with a lady of hers.” Always they had tried to pull her closer to their world, as if some of their polish would rub off on her. They had no idea that she had once, however briefly, been part of their world—and she had no interest in returning to it. “But she kept coming back. First for gowns, and then for conversation. She began to take notes—little things, you know. She asked what I knew of gentlemen’s clubs, whether I might have any merchant acquaintances who could be trusted. I do have quite a few.” Fine silks were imported just as were fine wines. The wares were different, but the connections were the same.
“And she confided in you? As easily as that?”
“Not quite,” she said, and steered him around a corner. “But as the weeks wore on, I began to gain a clearer understanding of her interest. You see, it is a simple enough matter to collect connections, to place orders and receive them. But you have got to have a place toputthem, and that was the largest problem that I could see. How does one hide an illicit ladies’ establishment in the middle of London?” She spread out the fingers of her free hand before it. “You must put it in a place where no one would think to look for it. And the apartment above my shop was free.”
“So it wasyouridea.” This amused him somehow; as if he had uncovered a bit of cleverness within her that he had not expected.
“Only the venue,” she said. “You see, a dress shop might as well be invisible to a man. All a lady must say isDarling, I am off for the modiste, and a gentleman immediately loses interest. He thinks nothing of her strolling into a shop and returning hours later.” Her fingers curled a little tighter into his coat. “There is—or was, rather—a connecting door in the very back of my shop. So a lady could simply walk in the front door in plain view of all of London, proceed up the stairs to the apartment above, and no one would be any the wiser.”
He chuckled, the sound both warm and fascinated. “And how long has this little scheme persisted?”
“Ambrosia opened publicly in January,” she said. “But in fact, this will be its eighth year.” She fished into her pocket and withdrew her coin purse, holding it in her hand. “At first, I was just the keeper of the keys, and they paid me a tidy sum to keep the door manned for them. But somehow, I slipped into an advisory role—I assisted in negotiating contracts with merchants, ensured that they could offer their patrons the best of the best.”
“But to keep such a thing a secret so long.”
“Wouldyouspeak of such a thing—toanyone—if you knew that to reveal its existence could be its downfall?”
“No,” he said, “I don’t suppose I would.”
“And neither did our ladies, whom we selected carefully and largely for their discretion. Of course, secrecy is no longer so much a concern. But I do admit that it was—pleasing, let’s say, to have held onto the secret for so long. A woman may thumb her nose at convention,” she said, “but only in private.”
“Oh, I’d say Ambrosia flies right into the face of convention,” he said. “I’m certain I’ve heard less than flattering things.”
A little laugh trickled from her throat. “Yes,” she said. “But now it isestablished. And whatever a gentleman might think of his wife’s activities within, he must stilllivewith her.”
They had reached a less fashionable street, populated mostly by boarding houses and businesses of a less savory nature. Ladies weren’t meant to know of brothels and gaming hells, but such things were everywhere—if one knew where to look.
