Page 53 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
The coach came to a stop. He stepped out before handing her down, and she discovered they were in the mews behind the Twin Dragons.
“Ashamed to be seen with me?” she asked, bothered by the knowledge that her past would prevent her from ever having anything more than a tryst with a man of his position.
“On the contrary, but it is the way we do it on nights such as this—when we want the game to be very exclusive.”
Inside, they climbed stairs and traversed darkened hallways until Avendale stopped outside a door and rapped several times in a manner that reminded her of a children’s lullaby.
A tiny portal appeared in the door. “What’s the word?” a rough voice asked.
“Feagan,” Avendale replied.
The door opened and he led her inside. The room was shadowed, but she made out various sitting areas and tables that housed decanters.
“Who’s Feagan?” she asked.
“Some old blighter who taught the parents of those you are about to meet how to survive the streets.”
“Sounds like a story,” she said.
“Several of them, in fact.”
With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her toward draperies, then pulled one aside and she walked into a brightly lit room where others had gathered.
“Ah, there you are,” a dark-haired man said. At his side was a woman with the most astonishing red hair. “We thought perhaps you’d changed your mind.”
“Not when I have the chance to take your money,” Avendale said. “Allow me to introduce Mrs. Rosalind Sharpe. Rose, the Duke and Duchess of Lovingdon.”
Rose curtsied. “It’s a pleasure.”
“We’ll see how you feel by the end of the night, once I’ve taken all your money,” the duchess said with a teasing smile.
“Go easy on her, Grace.” Bringing her in more closely against his side as though he thought her in need of protection, he said. “You know Drake, of course.”
She should have known Drake Darling would be here. “I’ve been enjoying your establishment.”
He gave her a shrewd once-over, leaving her with the impression that he could see far more than she wanted. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.
Avendale turned Rose’s attention to a tall gentleman. “The Marquess of Rexton.”
Before she could curtsy, the marquess was carrying her hand to his lips, but the devil was dancing in his blue eyes, and she suspected he was having his fun at Avendale’s expense, because she felt the duke’s fingers jerk against her back. “It’s always a pleasure to have a beautiful woman join us.”
“You are most kind to say so, my lord, but I own a mirror and know I am no beauty.”
“I think your mirror is broken. Perhaps I’ll purchase you a new one.”
She realized that with his flirtation, he no doubt understood her role in Avendale’s life. They probably all did.
“She’s not in need of a mirror,” Avendale told him.
“All ladies are in need of mirrors.” Rexton released his hold. He seemed pleasant enough but he didn’t draw her as Avendale did.
“Finally, Viscount Langdon,” Avendale said.
With eyes of pewter, Langdon smiled at her. “I never thought to meet a woman who could bring Avendale to heel.”
“I’ve hardly brought him to heel.”
“I suppose that remains to be seen.”
