The Scoundrel's Lover (8 page)

Annabelle, looked out the window. “I have done so once already,” she mused softly.

Deirdre made a strangled sound in her throat and Annabelle frowned. This was the reaction of her maid—she could only imagine that the response of those in her new circles within the
ton
would be worse. After all, they didn’t give a damn about her and were predisposed to view her in the worst light.

“I know I have no place to tell you what to do,” Deirdre said. “But I cannot be comfortable with this idea of you coming to that place with only me as chaperone. Can you not speak to your mother or the duke?”

Annabelle jerked her gaze away from the scene outside and back to her maid. “No! Please, Deirdre, you and I have been together for many years. You know me and you know my struggles thanks to the reputation of my family. You must know I would never endanger myself, especially now when I have a chance of finding respectability.”

“But you might not have a choice in a place such as the Donville Masquerade,” Deirdre reasoned, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. “If your family knew—”

“I’m begging you not to involve them,” Annabelle interrupted, reaching across the carriage to lay a hand over Deirdre’s clasped ones.

Deirdre’s foot tapped nervously. “But Miss…”

“I understand your hesitations completely, and I appreciate your worry on my behalf more than you could ever know,” Annabelle said. “But I won’t be alone. Mr. Rivers is a friend to both my brothers and he has agreed to look out for me while I am within the walls of his club.”

Deirdre blinked. “Mr. Rivers,” she repeated incredulously. “And you trust this man, despite his involvement in such a shocking place?”

That question brought Annabelle’s explanations and pleading to a screeching halt. Did she trust Marcus Rivers? She hardly knew the man, and he had already severely breached decorum by kissing her so passionately. Those were very good reasons to be wary of him, and yet she didn’t feel that way. She felt…safe when she was with him.

Safe, and other things.

“Yes,” she said, bending her head just in case her unexpected desire for the man was too obvious on her face. “Yes, I trust him.”

Deirdre folded her arms. “I wouldn’t be so bold as to go against what you are requesting, but I want you to know I don’t like it.”

Annabelle nodded. “I understand entirely, Deirdre, and I appreciate your agreement to keep what I am doing between us.”

They rode for a while in silence, but Annabelle couldn’t help but reflect over and over again on Marcus Rivers. Deirdre might not like this arrangement she had made, but Annabelle couldn’t help but fear that
she
might like it all too much.

Abbot paced across Marcus’s office floor, his normally calm face bright with angry color and his movements jerky and erratic.

“I cannot believe you would make such a foolish bargain with Annabelle Flynn, Rivers!” Abbot repeated for what felt like the tenth time since they had begun this highly unpleasant discussion not half an hour before. “And then you didn’t even inform me?”

Marcus arched a brow. “I believe that was what I was doing when we started talking this evening.”

“That is the point—
this evening
. You could have told me yesterday or this morning or this afternoon. But you waited until the club opened to spill this little secret of yours.”

“And what would have come out of telling you an hour ago or ten hours ago?” Marcus asked, keeping his tone mild as he watched Abbot pace and grouse.

“I could have had time to prepare!”

“She is a woman, Paul,” Marcus said softly, shifting to his friend’s first name. “Not an invading army.”

But even as he dismissed her, Marcus could admit, at least to himself, that
he
had been preparing for Annabelle’s return since her departure the previous day. It was all he could think about. That and the passionate kiss they had shared. He had always wanted her, but now he knew she wanted him in return.

That was an almost irresistible draw.

“An invading army is almost exactly what she is!” Abbot insisted. “Great God, man, you cannot pretend you don’t see the risks in what you’ve arranged. The woman is an innocent, she is not even a paying member in your club and she is here to
spy
on someone who
is
a paying member.”

“You are being dramatic,” Marcus said, though he knew full well that Abbot was anything but that.

“What if someone found out her identity and purpose? And that you had sanctioned it?” Abbot threw up his hands. “The trust you have built with your patrons would be shattered, Rivers.”

Marcus pursed his lips. Abbot was entirely correct, of course. The arrangement he’d made with Annabelle was outrageous and dangerous, in more ways than one. And yet he had no intention of going back on it.

“How would anyone ever find out?” he pressed.

Abbot opened and shut his mouth as he sputtered, “Too many ways to count. Not the least of which is that someone could recognize Miss Flynn.”

“She is very driven to protect her identity and reputation, I assure you,” Marcus said, swallowing past the suddenly bad taste in his mouth when he thought of how she had shoved herself away from him the previous afternoon.

The kiss they’d shared had haunted him ever since. Even now, his body began to react to the mere memory of holding Annabelle against him, her slender frame trembling as she returned his kiss with a fire worthy of a goddess.

Abbot sighed and drew Marcus from his thoughts. “I do not feel, in good conscience, that I could watch out for her. Not with everything else I must do.”

“I’m not asking you to do so.”

Abbot stared at him. “But—but
someone
must do so. You certainly cannot let her roam the rooms alone, not with the activities your patrons openly engage in.”

“I’ll protect her.” Marcus said it quietly, because he knew the power of those words. And the impact.

He was not disappointed. Abbot’s mouth dropped open. “You.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you are running the club, trying to keep up with the books, dealing with the rowdy and randy,
you
will take time from your schedule and watch out for this woman.”

“I think that’s what I just said,” Marcus drawled.

Abbot stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and then he folded his arms. “You like her.”

Marcus pushed back from his desk, his chair legs screeching across the wooden floor. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Abbot mused, ignoring Marcus’s denial. “I can think of no other reason why you wouldn’t kick her out the very first night she forced herself in. Why you would make this foolish bargain with her to allow to her spy on Crispin Flynn.”

Marcus clenched his fists at his sides. He had always been very careful to hide his emotions, even from those he was closest to. But now Paul Abbot seemed to see through him as if nothing but a sheer veil covered his soul.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

Abbot shrugged. “Yes.”

“Good.” He slapped a hand down on his desk. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I can well manage my business, as I have for nearly a decade. Just make sure that ‘Jasmine’ is sent upstairs to me the moment she arrives, and then you can happily not worry yourself about her. Do I make myself clear?”

Abbot stared at him a moment, but Marcus could tell his old friend wasn’t particularly moved by his sudden sharpness. In fact, he seemed to be smothering a smile that was as irksome as his interference. “You make yourself clearer than you would probably like,
sir
. And if that is all, I have a few things to do before the crush arrives.”

“That is all,” Marcus said through clenched teeth.

Paul gave a cheeky salute and left, leaving Marcus alone in his office at last. He turned to the window and stared out at the rapidly filling main room of the club.

Paul was one of the few people he let anywhere close to him in his life. That was the only reason Abbot could see his true motives so clearly. But he had to be certain no one else would ever guess what he held in his heart.

Especially not Annabelle Flynn.

Annabelle waited for her turn to give her name at the entrance to the club. At her side, she could hear Deirdre’s increased breath, a sure sign that her maid continued to disapprove of her decisions. But she couldn’t worry about that at present. She had to focus on her goals.

Marcus.

No, that wasn’t right. Marcus Rivers was a distraction. Her goal was Crispin and doing everything she could to help him.

“Focus,” she muttered to herself.

“I beg your pardon?” the liveried servant asked as she stepped up.

“A—” she began, then cut herself off. She couldn’t allow herself to be so flustered that she forgot herself. “Jasmine.”

The servant’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and then he bowed. “Of course, Miss. You are expected. Your servant may go with Carter, and if you wait a moment, I will find someone to escort you to your destination.”

Annabelle nodded and then turned her attention to Deirdre.

“I don’t like leaving you, Miss…Jasmine,” her maid whispered.

Annabelle caught her hand and squeezed gently. “But you will, and I’ll be fine. I promise you. If you have any trouble, please have them send for me. But Mr. Rivers said no one shall bother you.”

Deirdre frowned deeper, but then nodded. “Very well. Be careful.”

Her maid turned and followed another servant from the room. Once Annabelle was alone, she expected some weight would come off her shoulders, but instead, anxiety began to build in her chest as she awaited her fate.

To her surprise, when the door to the main hall opened a few moments later, it was Mr. Abbot who appeared. He looked her up and down from the door, and Annabelle tensed as her hand drifted up to touch her mask.

This time, she had chosen the mask that would protect her identity. Instead of the plain gray from before, she had gone with an elaborate design of bright blue with peacock feathers and paste jewels around the eyes. She had been quite pleased with the effect until Deirdre had questioned if she was “dressing for someone.”

It was ridiculous notion. Annabelle was dressing for no one—she just knew that the ladies here all wore pretty masks. She would fit in more by doing the same rather than going with something austere.

“Good evening,” Abbot said as he strode up to her.

“Hello again, Mr. Abbot,” she managed to squeak out.

“We’ve been expecting you.” He motioned her toward the main hall door. “Although I must say that fact was a surprise to me when Mr. Rivers informed me of it earlier this evening.”

Annabelle heard the strain in the other man’s tone and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t look particularly happy to have her here.

“I’m sorry if I am causing you trouble,” she said softly.

He turned partially toward her as he hesitated at the door. “Don’t mistake me. I understand your drive to the fullest and I admire your dedication to your family. But you must equally understand that Rivers is taking a risk to the reputation of this club by allowing you to come here as you are. I hope you’ll be mindful of it.”

Annabelle stared at him a moment, reading the true care he had for Marcus on his face. “I will do my very best not to damage Mr. Rivers or what he has built.”

“Excellent.” Abbot smiled and then opened the door, leading her into the club once more.

Over the last twenty-four hours, Annabelle had focused on any technique she thought might help her remain unmoved in the face of the debauchery she would encounter in that room, but as soon as the door opened, she realized it was all for naught. She was bombarded once again by the smells of incense, the moans of those already exploring passion and the sights of bare breasts, seeking hands and wet tongues.

Her heart fluttered and her feet faltered as she fell behind Abbot, trailing behind him through the hall. Her gaze darted to a table where a woman was splayed out, dress up around her stomach and two men leaning over her. One had his hand between her legs and was stroking just like Annabelle did to herself on the darkest nights in her bed.

The other had his member out and the woman sucked it greedily.

“Oh God,” Annabelle moaned beneath her breath, turning her face even though she knew that erotic image would stay with her for a long time to come. It would be fodder for her dreams and fantasies, no doubt.

She forced herself to look straight ahead for the rest of the winding route through the club. She forced herself
not
to look at the gamblers and lovers and those who were preparing to do one thing or another. If her brother were here, she would wait until she was with Marcus to find him, rather than look and find what she didn’t want…couldn’t want…to see.

At the bottom of the stairway, a servant stood, just as he had the last time she came here when the club was open. And just as last time, the man’s eyes went wide as Abbot took her past him.

Abbot acknowledged the man with a brief nod, but said nothing as he guided Annabelle up the staircase and back into the plain office Marcus had above the club.

As Annabelle stepped inside, she stopped and looked around, bracing herself for the overwhelming presence of her host. But the room was empty.

She turned to Abbot with a wrinkled brow. As if he recognized the unspoken question, Abbot smiled. “He will be here shortly. He knows you have arrived.”

To her surprise, the other man then turned on his heel and left the room with nothing further to say. Annabelle gaped at the door as it shut her in, alone in Rivers’ office.

“I certainly do not understand the society Rivers keeps any more than I understand the
ton
,” she muttered as she paced away from the door across the room, tugging off her mask as she did so and setting it aside on a small table beside the door.