Page 51 of One Night with a Prince
She gaped at him, then groaned.Practice your Patience . Of course. It wasn’t whist, but at least it was cards. Byrne would consider that better than nothing.
Fine, she wouldn’t disappoint him. Because when he returned, she meant to show him she could make him proud, even at Lord Stokely’s.
Chapter Eleven
I always hired servants of superior
discretion and muscular build, because
sometimes only a servant stands between
you and a lover you wish to avoid.
—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress
By the evening of the second day without Byrne, Christabel was starting to fret. She’d read his books and practiced her Patience until she saw cards in her sleep. She was even wearing a new gown, rushed over to her by Mrs. Watts.
And still, no Byrne. What if he’d decided to spend a week in the country? What if he’d even begun to rethink their endeavor?
Such thoughts were plaguing her when an ornate card arrived for her. Certain that it was from Byrne, she eagerly opened it, astonished to find a gold-engraved invitation. To Lord Stokely’s house party. Her pulse began to race. Byrne had done it—she was invited. Astonishing!
She leaped to her feet. Unfortunately, only a week and a half remained, and she was little closer to being an expert whist player than before. Enough of this waiting around—she must locate Byrne. Or at least get a message to him at his estate about the invitation.
She called for her carriage but had no clue how to find him. She didn’t even know the address of his town house, much less his estate.
But Lord Draker would know. Wait, hadn’t Lady Draker said they were going into the country around this time? And Lord only knew where the Iversleys lived. Besides, they might have gone into the country as well.
At least there was one place where enough people were well acquainted with Byrne to tell her what she needed. And fortunately, her coachman seemed to know the Blue Swan’s precise location, for he went right to it.
As she climbed from the carriage, she hesitated. The brightly lit building on St. James’s Street looked rather daunting. Sounds of distinctly male laughter filtered out into the night air, and the entrance door of solid English oak with its oddly austere brass knocker practically shouted, “No women allowed!”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlShe drew her new silk shawl more tightly about her, and her footman limped close. “Is there anyone you wish me to ask for, my lady?”
“No.” She gathered her courage. “Wait here. I’ll speak to the porter myself.”
She didn’t have to go far. The ancient servant, all starch and vinegar in his pristine blue livery, met her at the top of the stairs before she could knock. “Pardon me, madam, but this is a club for gentlemen only. If there is a particular gentleman to whom you wish to speak, I can give him your request that he meet you outside.”
“I’m looking for the owner, Mr. Byrne.” When the man’s leathery features didn’t change, she lied, “He and I had an engagement tonight, but he hasn’t appeared or sent word. Perhaps you know where he is?”
The porter looked wary. “And whom shall I say is calling, madam?”
Byrne washere ? How long had he been back in town? Her temper short, she nearly snapped, “Tell him his mistress is here,” but no lady with any care for her reputation would say such a thing.
“I would prefer not to give my name,” she said as imperiously as she could manage. “But I am a particular friend of his.”
Her manner seemed to give the man pause. He scanned her new gown of green-spotted muslin with its matching hat and parasol, then glanced beyond her to Philip’s smart town rig, which she’d inherited. Then his rigid features crumbled from proper to panicked. “Lady Haversham?” he whispered. She blinked, then nodded.
“Forgive me, my lady…I must have mistook…Mr. Byrne is napping in his office. When he returned from Bath, he said to wake him by 7:00P.M . so he could call on you. I must have got the time wrong. But he didn’t say he was expected for an engagement, and I assumed—”
“It’s all right,” she said hastily, hiding her surprise.
“I am truly sorry, my lady, that my mistake caused you to have to come down here. I shall go wake him at once—”
“No, don’t do that.” She thought quickly. Now was her chance to see his famous club…and learn more about the enigmatic Byrne. “Let him sleep. If you will show me to his office, I’ll just wait until he awakens.” She arched one supercilious brow. “Unless that’s not allowed.”
The porter hesitated, but self-preservation must have won out over rules. “Mr. Byrne does occasionally have ladies in his office. I am certain he would not mind if you wait there.” He lowered his voice. “And if your ladyship would be so kind as to tell him when he awakens that I did not mean for him to miss his engagement—”
“I’ll simply say I came here early on a whim and begged you not to wake him.” Which was the absolute truth. She cast the porter an indulgent smile. “He needn’t know when I arrived, after all.”
