He’d come to Blake’s, a little-known gentleman’s club in Bloomsbury, for a reason. Its clientele mostly comprised artists and poets, and the odd financier. Very few people of the ton were members, and that was precisely why he’d chosen to pay his membership here—beyond prying eyes and gossiping mouths. He loathed gossip. Especially since he’d frequently been an object of it. He did everything in his power not to subject himself to it, but he’d broken his self-imposed rule last evening by venturing out of his house to a ball and singling out a beautiful young woman by dancing with her.
Years of strictures shot to hell in less than five minutes. But there were some things in life that proved too great a temptation—even for him. And Isabella had proved to be one of them. She was most likely the only temptation he could not resist.
Turning right, he entered the small room at the back of the club. The gaming rooms and bar were up front, leaving the back relatively quiet—and empty. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth. Sitting at the table was Sussex, reading a paper and drinking a whiskey.
At Black’s entrance, a servant placed a freshly pressed news sheet and a dram of scotch at the empty place, which Black immediately occupied. Once the servant was out of earshot, he took a sip of his drink and watched as Sussex lowered the paper.
“Well?” he asked. “I received your message.”
Black glanced around, shifted in his chair, giving the air that he was settling in for a bit. “I have information on the House of Orpheus.”
His Grace’s eyes lit with interest. “Indeed? You’ve been busy, and for one who apparently doesn’t give a damn about finding the relics.”
Ignoring the taunt, he continued. “Last night I told you I recalled recently seeing the image for the House of Orpheus.” He lifted the paper and pretended to peruse it. “It was on a billet at the front of the Adelphi Theatre.”
The duke’s dark brow rose in question. “The Adelphi is little more than a bawdy house—with its painted women and questionable productions.”
“Which makes it a wonderful cover for such a club, don’t you think?”
Sussex folded his paper and downed the rest of his whiskey. “I do. Brilliant, in fact. Are you certain?”
“I knew I had seen that image somewhere,” Black murmured. “It was only a matter of time before I recalled exactly where. I was out of my mind with boredom the other night and decided to take in a show.”
The duke merely arched his brow. Black glared back. “I don’t need your censure, Sussex,” he snarled. “So what, I needed a few mindless hours of terrible singing and even worse dancing. At any rate, I noticed the billet when I left the theater. I didn’t read it then, but after I dropped Miss Fairmont off at her home this afternoon, I had my driver return to the Strand, and I nicked this—it was posted on the front of the theater, by the doors.”
“Miss Fairmont, did you say?” Sussex asked with interest as he took the billet from Black’s hand. “What was she doing there?”
“The apothecary.”
Sussex glanced up from reading the billet. “And Miss Ashton?”
“She wasn’t there.”
Sussex’s gaze turned dark. “This is an advertisement for the club, but it gives no address, no means of making contact or anything about what this House of Orpheus is.”
“I know. That must be part of its allure. I suspect it’s one of those exclusive, elitist-type clubs that men trip over themselves to join—nothing like a mysterious club with initiation rites and secret ceremonies to draw members.”
“Sounds like Freemasonry,” Sussex said with a grin.
“I think the Adelphi is the place to start. By its size alone it’s the perfect venue to hide such a club. Maybe after a night spent there, we might find out more about it. I hear that the theater is closed on Wednesdays—perhaps it’s closed because the club meets then? Or maybe there’s a special room—there are always those sorts of rooms set up for theatrics that these places tend to induce.”
Sitting forward, Sussex passed him the billet. “I don’t like this, Black. Every gut instinct I possess tells me that this club has something to do with Lucy. And God help me if it’s some notorious club set in the Adelphi. I should be thinking of the chalice and the pendant, and what bloody mayhem might ensue if they fall into the wrong hands, but I confess all I can think about is Lucy and how she’s gotten herself involved in something dangerous.”
“I’ll go to the theater, mingle, ask around about this House of Orpheus and see what I can learn, and in the process discover if it has anything at all to do with the artifacts. Do not worry, Sussex. Lady Lucy’s reputation will remain intact, and we will find the relics. Good God, we don’t want it getting out that the pendant and chalice have the powers to alter the world.”
“You said you didn’t believe it. You stated it was nothing but a medieval fairy tale.”
Shrugging, Black sat back in his chair and gazed into the fire. “I lack faith, I suppose. But that doesn’t mean that I can let it go. It has been my family’s curse to look after the damn pendant and hide it away from the world for over five hundred years. I simply can’t shrug it off now. I must find it, whether or not I believe it contains nefarious powers.”
“All my life, I have been consumed with keeping the chalice hidden from the world, but with one glance from a green-eyed nymph, I’ve suddenly become sidetracked.”
“Besotted,” Black corrected his friend. “A moon-calved fool.”
“Enough,” the duke growled. “I’m merely trying to keep the girl out of it. For the sake of her father. Stonebrook doesn’t need the aggravation or the scandal.”
Black snorted. “You may use your arrogance and aloof, distant airs to fool the insipid members of the ton, Sussex, but I know you better. You’re pining away for the girl.”
His Grace refused to return his stare, and instead focused on the fire that blazed in the large hearth. “Yes,”
he murmured so quietly that Black wasn’t certain he was supposed to have heard him. “Pining, perishing, bloody angsting over the girl, and she won’t give me the time of day.”
He’d known Sussex since the cradle, and had never seen him this way. Lucy Ashton was tying him in knots.
“Enough of this,” Sussex snapped. “When will you go to the theater, and do you want company? Lord knows I would do well with a night out.”
“I’ll make preparations and let you know. As an aside, I met with Knighton on the docks this morning. There was nothing of interest to us in the crates. I don’t think him a threat, but all the same, I offered to sponsor him into the lodge. I hold to the adage that one should keep their friends close, and their enemies closer.”
Sussex smiled slyly. “You just said he wasn’t a threat to us.”
“Not to the Brethren Guardians,” Black murmured. “But he is a threat to me.”
“Now who’s moonfaced?” Sussex said, and laughed when Black rose from the chair and retreated from the room. It was fine for him to tease His Grace about this affliction for Lucy, but it was quite the opposite to be the object of the duke’s mockery.
SHE COULD NOT STOP THINKING of that kiss, or the feel of Lord Black’s arms encircling her. She had felt wild, unbidden and in truth, he was just as wild as she. Which was shocking in a way, for Black always seemed so composed and self-contained. That he should possess such passion was both a surprise and a fright. The kiss had been hard, frenzied, as if both of them had been denying such a thing for eternity. Yet they