Never Judge a Lady By Her Cover: Number 4 in series (The Rules of Scoundrels series) (44 page)

Chapter 20

Editors of this prestigious paper have had enough of the monopoly of power that exists in London’s darkest corners. We encourage our readers to do what they can to ensure that the country have only one monarch, and one who reigns in public…

—
The News of London
, May 17, 1833

The Fallen Angel was under siege.

As it was only half-eleven in the morning, the casino floor was dark, but there was nothing quiet about the space, filled with echoing shouts from outside the steel doors of the casino, loud banging on the doors of the building, and the constant din of men outside, filling St. James Street in the hopes of getting their chance for five thousand pounds.

Inside, Temple and Cross sat at a roulette table, waiting for a member of the security team to appear with news.

Bourne arrived first. “What in hell is happening?” he called, pushing through the inner door to the casino from the entrance hall, barred with double locks and a door-man twice the size of a normal person.

Cross looked to Bourne. “You look as though you’ve been through a war.”

“Have you seen how many people there are out there? They’re desperate for entry. Do they simply think we’re going to announce Chase’s identity? Simply because West has lost his mind?” He looked down at the sleeve of his coat and swore roundly. “Look what the bastards did to me! They tore my cuff.”

“You are like a woman when it comes to clothes,” Temple said. “If I were you, I would be more concerned about arm tearing. As in limb from limb.”

Bourne scowled at Temple. “I was concerned about that. Now that the immediate threat is gone, I’m irritated about my cuff. I’ll ask again; what in hell is going on?”

Temple and Cross looked at each other, then at Bourne. “Chase is in love,” Cross said, simply.

Bourne blinked once. “Honestly?”

“Besotted,” Temple said. The word was punctuated by a crash high above, where a well-aimed rock broke a small window and rained glass down onto the casino floor.

They watched the fall of glass for a long moment, before Bourne turned back to his partners. “With West?”

Cross nodded. “The very same.”

Bourne thought for a moment. “Is it me? Or does it seem fitting that Chase’s love story is the one that nearly destroys the casino?”

“It’s going to do more than
nearly
destroy it, if West doesn’t call off his dogs.”

Bourne nodded. “I assume you’ve —”

“Of course,” Temple said. “First thing. The moment we saw the paper.”

“And she doesn’t know.”

“Definitely not,” Cross said. “Did she ever give us the courtesy of letting us know that she was going to meddle in our affairs?”

“She did not,” Bourne said with a sigh as he sat. “So we are waiting, then?”

Temple waved to a seat nearby. “We are waiting.”

Bourne nodded. They were quiet for a long moment, all watching Cross spin the wheel again and again. Finally, Bourne said, “It’s less fun when there’s no ball.”

“It isn’t that much fun when there is a ball.”

“I wonder why Chase loves it so much,” Temple said.

“Because roulette is the only game of chance that is entirely random,” Cross said. “You cannot force a win. And so, it is even ground.”

“Pure chance,” Bourne said.

“No calculated risk,” Cross agreed.

There was heavy banging on the door, long and loud and with little threat of giving up. When it stopped, and a door opened, the security team no doubt using all their might to keep the crowds at bay.

Bourne laughed, and the others looked to him, confusion on their faces. He shook his head. “I am simply imagining all those starchy nobs from White’s and Brooks’s, turning down St. James’s, unsuspecting.”

Cross laughed, too. “Oh, they shall be furious with us. As though they didn’t loathe us before.”

“Hang them,” Temple said, his lips curving into a grin. “Never let it be said that The Fallen Angel doesn’t bring entertainment to the neighborhood.”

The statement had them all laughing, each louder than the other. They almost did not notice that Bruno had appeared at the edge of the room. “He is here,” the enormous guard announced.

“I can see myself in,” Duncan said, pushing past the massive man and onto the darkened floor.

The founders stood as one, straightening sleeves – except Bourne, who simply swore again over the condition of his sleeve – each intimidating in his own right, but together, a trio of power more intimidating than most men would be willing to face.

Duncan approached without hesitation.

Bruno watched his back. “Even though I think we should leave him to the crowds.”

“We might well do that,” Temple said.

“Give it time,” Cross added.

“What the hell is this?” Duncan asked, brandishing a small square of paper. “You think insulting me is the way to convince me to rescind the reward?”

Bourne plucked the missive out of his hand and opened it. Read aloud. “‘You are an idiot, wandering blind in the woods
.
’” He nodded, looking to Temple. “There’s a poetry to that.”

Temple looked rather proud of himself. “Thank you. I thought so.”

Duncan snatched the paper out of Bourne’s hands in exasperation. “Insulting me and then summoning me to your side hasn’t put me in a generous frame of mind. What in hell do you want?”

“You know,” Bourne said, “I once heard you described as a genius.” He looked to Cross. “Except, for a genius, he is something of a lummox.”

“Well, to be fair, he’s in a situation where intelligence does rather go out the window,” Cross said. “I have a theory that women actually siphon off our cleverness during the courting phase, and keep it for themselves. Which is why they always seem to see the endgame before we do.”

Temple nodded, as though the earl had said something tremendously sage.

“That is a very good theory,” Bourne said.

“You’re all fucking mad,” Duncan said, brandishing the note. “I did not come for your insane ideas. I came because you promised me Chase. And looking at the three of you, you lied.”

“Excuse me,” Temple said, affront in the tone.

“We did not lie.” Cross replied.

“Well then?” Duncan asked.

“The reward was a very good move,” Temple said. “It certainly got our attention.”

“Did it get Chase’s?”

“I imagine it did, yes,” said Bourne.

“Then why am I talking to you three instead of him?”

Cross leaned back against the roulette table, folding long arms over his chest. He lifted his chin in the direction of the door at the far end of the room, beneath the enormous stained glass window. Duncan’s gaze fell to the exit, and he realized that he had never in all his years of membership seen that door unguarded.

He looked back to the owners.

“Go ahead, then,” Cross said. “Talk to Chase.”

His brow furrowed. “Is it a trap?”

“Not in the way you think,” Temple said, ominously.

He turned away. “You waste my time.”

“It’s not a trap,” Cross said. “You’ll survive it.”

He looked from one founder to the next. “How do I know to trust you?”

Bourne shrugged one shoulder. “She loves you. We would not hurt you, even if we wanted to.” The words were punctuated by a cacophony of shouting from the street outside – the sounds matching the beating of his heart.

She loves you
.

“You have all mistreated her. Abysmally,” Duncan said. “Letting her live this life.”

Temple smiled at that. “That you think we ever
let
them do anything is a testament to your senselessness.” He lifted his chin to the door. “Chase’s office is through that door.”

Duncan’s gaze lingered on the door in question. If it was a trap, so be it. He had brought them to this moment, forcing their hand. He’d offered the reward, sending half of London to their doorstep to smoke out the elusive owner of the casino.

He would face this head-on.

He crossed the room, opened the door to reveal a long staircase, ascending into darkness. Looking back, he saw the three men who were the public face of the casino, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching him. As he closed the door behind him, blocking them out, it occurred to him that their fourth was missing – the woman who reigned over this floor. Their partner in this impressive place.

The thought echoed through him. She was their fourth.

She was their fourth.
 

He climbed the stairs, moving more and more quickly as his mind turned the events of the past six years over and over again… all the references to Chase, all the missives carried on his behalf by the beautiful, brilliant Anna, a Society cast-out hidden in plain sight. She knew so much about the place, about its members.

She was their fourth.

The door at the top of the stairs opened onto a familiar corridor, the wall opposite him boasting an enormous oil painting he’d seen before. Themis and Nemesis. Justice and Vengeance.

Who are you?
he’d asked when they’d stood here before.

I cannot be both?
she’d replied.

She was both.

He nearly ripped the painting from the wall as he opened the entrance to the secret passageway. To Chase’s office.

He counted the doors, stopping at the fourth. Grasping the handle. Knowing that whatever – whoever – was behind this door would change his life. Forever. He took a single, stabilizing breath, and opened the door.

He was right.

She was behind her desk, head bowed, writing, a stack of cards next to her on the great expanse of oak. Memory flashed – days earlier. She, on the edge of that desk in this white room. His hands and mouth and body on hers.

He’d rushed, thinking they were in Chase’s offices.

Thinking they would be caught.

Thinking she belonged to another.

Wanting her for his.
 

He was consumed by anger and fascination, disbelief and respect.

She did not look up from her writing as she heard the door open, instead waving a hand in the direction of the stack of letters at her elbow. “These are ready to go,” she said. “Is Bourne here yet?”

He closed the door, locking it in a single motion.

She looked up at the sound of key in lock, her gaze finding his, shock in her eyes as she shot out of her chair.

She was wearing trousers again.

“Duncan,” she said.

“Bourne is here,” he said.

Her brow furrowed, and it took her a moment to understand what exactly he meant by the words. “I —” She stopped. “Oh.”

“Tell me,” he said, and it occurred to him that the night prior, he’d spoken the same words to her, hoping she would finally tell him that she loved him.

Now he would simply settle for the truth.

When she did not reply, he repeated himself. “Tell me.” The words came out harsh, nearly broken. When she shook her head, he repeated himself, the words coming on a near-shout, “Tell me!”

There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful amber eyes that he had marveled at so many times. He wondered what the tears were for – if they were because he’d discovered her secrets, or if they were because she realized that a betrayal of this size would be impossible to forgive.

That a secret of this magnitude changed everything.

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Duncan,” she whispered. “I was not ready for you to know.”

“Know what?” he asked. And he commanded her a final time. “Tell me. Say it. For once in our lives, tell me the truth.”

She nodded, and he watched her throat work as she searched for the words. Not many words. Three of them. Utterly simple and somehow tremendously complicated.

Finally, she met his gaze, unwavering. And spoke.

“I am Chase.”

He was quiet for so long, she thought he might never speak.

A dozen possibilities rioted through her, every one a question. But when he did speak, it was not a question, but a statement, filled with disbelief and awe and something else that she hesitated to name. “I was so damn jealous of him.”

She did not know what to say when he ran a hand through his hair and continued, “I thought he owned you. I couldn’t understand why you were so committed to him. Why you protected him so well. I couldn’t understand why you fell into my arms even as you chose him, time and time again.”

“I didn’t choose him,” she said.

He met her eyes. “You chose this place.”

“No,” she said, wanting him to understand. Wanting him to see. “I chose safety. Security.”

“I could have given that to you,” he said, the words coming out like rolling thunder. “Christ, Georgiana, I wanted to give it to you. All you had to do was trust me.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked, suddenly desperate for him to understand. She came out from behind the desk. “I’ve spent my life around dangerous men… and you might well have been the most dangerous one of all.”

“Me?” he asked, the word incredulous. “From the moment we met, I offered you help.”

“No,” she said. “You offered Georgiana help, but once you discovered her connection to the Angel, once you discovered that I was also Anna, you offered me a trade.”

He stilled.

She knew she should not punish him for it – knew she had done far worse – but she could not stop herself. Feeling defensive, she said, “Tit for tat, Duncan. And a threat to reveal my secrets.” She shook her head. “I was party to the deal, no doubt. But do not for a moment think I have not learned in all my years as Chase that business is not friendship. And that trust is not a part of business.”

“This hasn’t been business for a long time,” he said.

She knew that, of course. Knew, too, that this might be the only time she was ever able to tell the truth.

And she wanted it to be him who heard it.

She leaned against the desk, placing her palms flat to the top of it. “I wanted to be something more than what they made me.” She paused, trying to find the words to explain. “Do you recall the house in Yorkshire?” He nodded. “There were so many of us there… so many of us who had run. Who had found the strength to defy expectations.” She shook her head. “I was the weakest by far, and I could afford to be. When I left – when I returned home – I saw the way the world looked at me. At us. And I hated them for it. I wanted to do something tremendously powerful… something that would hold them under my thumb, these people who talked propriety and lived sin and vice when they closed their doors.