Chapter Eight

Selena resisted the urge to cover her nose as she jumped from the carriage that stopped before an alehouse. The most recent—and unexpected—clue had led her here. It was a breakthrough in her search for the elusive organization that had been quite effective in slipping through her grasp.

"So, this is the place Dare allegedly saw the crest." Selena glanced at Leonora. "Just how did Dare"—a notorious rake, a seemingly frivolous character—"find the mark on your Turkish trousers?"

Leonora smirked. "Just how did you and Warrick manage to lock lips together?"

"Very well, I won't ask."

"I'm surprised the earl did not escort us."

"You heard him yesterday, he said he wouldn't help me." Then everything else happened, though Selena still was unsure exactly what it was that had happened. Things between them had taken an awkward turn, but she'd dropped the gauntlet on his side. And her brain might as well have turned into a mushy stew because of that man. "Plus, didn't you advise him to give me space?"

Leonora shrugged. "I told him not to follow you so that you both can calm down."

"Well, I suppose we're still calming ourselves." She had calmed the moment she sent him the tea this morning. He, on the other hand—well, it would depend on how well he received her gift. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled how she had blurted out to him all that had bothered her. Why had she said all those things? The more she thought about it, the more embarrassment flushed her face. She'd even admitted she enjoyed his kisses.

She patted her warm cheeks.

Those two kisses, brief as though they were, were more than tempting. They were downright dangerous. With each one, those old, familiar feelings of admiration and sweetness had exploded back to the surface. Luckily, she hadn't confessed to any of that. She had thought her innocent childhood passion had long faded. Could it be that it had only been buried to once more resurface?

That couldn't be, could it?

Bah! This was driving her crazy. Which was why it was best to move on before she made an irrevocable mistake. Like acting on impulses that would only leave her heartbroken and disappointed in the end.

"Shall we go in?" Leonora asked, looking over the street with curiosity.

Selena nodded. She had been skeptical about this lead. However, since she wanted to find the club, every lead, no matter how small, no matter where it came from, should be investigated.

She wondered if Warrick knew about the alehouse. He'd discovered the crest, so he might have discovered more clues she wasn't aware of. She should be annoyed, but then, she'd hidden things from him, too. Unless he decided to fully commit to helping her, she refused to count on him for anything.

"I've never been to an alehouse before," Leonora said.

"Me neither."

Bright light spilled into the room from the open door and windows, chasing away the dim shadows as they entered. The smell of smoke clung to the dark, varnished wooden tables and stools, but they looked clean.

"It's not as stuffy as I imagined," Leonora remarked.

"That's because it's broad daylight. I imagine the moment the sun sets the scene changes." Selena's gaze flicked to all corners of the room, from the wooden beams crossing the ceiling down to the scuffed floorboards, looking for any sign of those roses entwining a sword. Her eyes darted to a sword—without any roses—hanging on the wall above the bar.

Interesting.

"This seems rather . . ."

"Unsophisticated?" Leonora offered. "It's not quite what I imagined the lair of a secret club run by women would look like."

"Perhaps it's not their lair but a property they own."

"Why would they own an alehouse on the docks?"

"Good question," Selena said. "Let's go find a seat." They sauntered over to a table and settled in. "Did Dare mention anything else about the crest?"

"If I'd known you were so interested in the topic I would have dug deeper. Should we send a missive for him to meet us here?"

"No. The fewer people know about who and what I'm searching for the better. We are already not supposed to be here. Let's not tempt fate by adding a rake to the mix."

"A handsome rake."

That remained debatable.

A big, bulky man with a scar down the outer corner of his left eye approached them. "What can I get ye, ladies?"

Selena glanced at Leonora, who nodded with eagerness. She turned to the man. "Two pints of your finest ale."

He gave them each a silent look-over before nodding and heading back to the bar.

"Heavens," Leonora whispered. "That is one scary-looking man. Do we dare ask outright about the symbol?"

"Wait a bit. It's best to scout the place and the people first. The barman might look frightening, but he doesn't seem hostile."

"I suppose you cannot judge a man by his scars. Did you see the way he looked at us? Are the cloaks too much? We should have borrowed clothes from our maids."

"It's too late now." Selena's gaze flicked over the few customers scattered in various spots throughout the place, her eyes skimming over a man in a shadowed corner of the room. He seemed to be looking in their direction, but his face and eyes were half obscured by a cap, so she couldn't be sure.

How eerie.

She suddenly wished she'd brought along that jackal, Warrick. She hadn't realized up until this very moment, but while she had thought it annoying to a certain degree, Warrick tailing her around London had provided a level of reassurance which she certainly didn't feel at present.

"Say, if you started your own secret club, where would you hold your gatherings?" Leonora asked, her curious gaze sweeping the room.

Selena tapped her chin in thought. A good question. White's and Boodles were private clubs but not secret, so they had their own fine establishments set up. But if you were to host a secret one... "I suppose I would hold them under the guise of a charity. That way, my members and I could hide in the open."

"Perhaps this club is doing the same," Leonora suggested.

"Seems reasonable."

"Then what charity gatherings do you suppose are held at an alehouse?"

"Injured war veterans?" Selena proposed. The scarred man brought over their ale. "Excuse me," Selena asked while reaching for her beer. "Are there any charities that gather at your establishment?"

Sharp eyes met hers, and a chill slithered down her spine.

"No," he said bluntly before turning and walking away.

Selena blinked at his back.

"Such direct rejection," Leonora murmured. "Do you think he's lying?"

"I truly cannot say." Selena murmured. "He didn't hesitate in his answer. Perhaps our assumption is wrong. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Perhaps he shall warm up to us." Leonora picked up her glass and studied the bubbly content. "I've never had beer before."

Selena took a sip. "Not bad."

"Rather refreshing," Leonora agreed. "Even if we don't find any clues for you, this at least is a novel experience."

Selena's gaze moved back to the mysterious man in the corner. He still seemed to be looking in their direction. Was she imagining things? There was something about him that niggled at the back of her mind. Something important.

Other than him, there were only three other people in this place. No one else paid them any mind. She was just being overly suspicious, she decided.

"Selena!"

Selena turned back to Leonora at her sudden exclamation of glee. "What is it?"

Leonora pointed to the bottom of her empty glass.

Selena's eyes widened. "You already finished it all?"

"Focus! Isn't this the emblem you are searching for?"

"Let me see!" She snatched the glass from Leonora. Sure enough, there it was, etched on the bottom of the glass. She glanced at her full glass before gulping down the entire contents in one go. Her eyes fixed at the bottom until a clear imprint of roses and a sword appeared.

"Who is drinking too fast now?" Lenora asked dryly.

Selena swallowed the last sip, her mind still racing as she stared at the link she'd been hoping to find. "This is..."

"The exact same as the one on the Turkish trousers," Leonora finished for her.

Excitement unfurled in Selena's breast along with a small feather of trepidation. She had never been this close! But what would happen if she truly found the club? The location was rather unexpected... "Do you think this means the club owns this alehouse, or do they run a charity through the establishment, or do they use it for other purposes?"

"I'm not sure, but whatever their connection to this place, asking the barman about it will rouse their suspicions of us."

Selena's gaze followed Leonora's to the man who served their drinks. He stood behind the bar, eyeing them with an expressionless stare. Another shiver shot down her spine. She had to agree with Leonora. He was one scary man.

And Warrick was not here.

They hadn't informed anyone of their whereabouts, and for the first time that made Selena nervous.

She couldn't believe she was about to admit this, even to herself, but she missed him. Not so much the man, but certainly his presence and the security it provided. She had let them both off easy with a claim of friendship. But Warrick had never been her friend. He was her brother's friend. And she knew he'd never seen her as anything but her brother's sister. Then he kissed her, and she kissed him back, and now the relationship had moved into uncharted territory.

She no longer knew who he was to her just as he didn't know who she was to him, but she did know she missed him.

She gave another quick look at the barman, who resumed his duties.

"We might have stumbled onto something," Selena said softly.

"Are you nervous?" Leonora asked, matching her tone.

Selena nodded. "Whatever we stumbled onto, let us hope we can stumble right back out."

*

"You lowly blackguard!"

Warrick was rudely awakened by the door slamming against the wall, and Saville, who burst into his bedchamber, his face flushed with anger. What was with these siblings, entering his chamber as they pleased? No, the better question was what was wrong with his servants allowing them to enter in the first place? There were rules in households. Show the guests to the parlor. Inform the host. How damn difficult was that?

He squinted that the fire-breathing Saville. "What did you just call me?"

"You kissed my sister!"

That one sentence was like a cold bucket of water splashed all over Warrick's face and jolted him from his sleepiness, yet also left him paralyzed.

Saville ripped the covers from the bed. "Do you dare deny it?"

Warrick rubbed his temples as he sat up. How the hell had Savile found out? He couldn't know for certain. "Where did you hear such a rumor?"

"Rumor, my arse! I saw it with my own eyes."

"Impossible."

"Impossible because I couldn't have been there to see it with my own eyes, or impossible because you didn't kiss my sister?"

"If you had seen it with your own eyes then you wouldn't have waited to only be picking a fight with me now," Warrick pointed out.

"You bloody knave. I see you are not denying it." A finger stabbed in his direction. "At first, I thought I was wrong. But why would my sister exit a drawing room, minutes before you, face flushed?"

"This is what has you so up in arms?"

"I also saw you enter my carriage and Selena exit it. No matter how I look at it, you kissed my sister."

"You gather that from just those two scenes?" Warrick shook his head and fell back onto the bed, shielding his eyes with his forearm. "Leave me in peace, man."

"I haven't even told you the best part."

"And what is the best part?" Warrick hated asking.

"I have kissed my fair share of women, and I have keen sense of intuition. More importantly, I know how a woman's lips look after a passionate kiss. Are you still going to deny it?"

Warrick lifted his arm and stared at his friend. "No. You are right." Every ounce of frustration of the past twenty-four hours poured into his reply. "I kissed Selena." There, he'd said it. Make with it what you will.

"You blackguard!" Saville lunged at him. He barely had time to roll over before his friend's heavy body slammed into the mattress next to him. A punch landed on the left side of his jaw.

An involuntary grunt left him. "Damn it!" he cursed. "Why can't you act like an adult?"

"Why did you kiss my sister?"

"Go ask her yourself!" Warrick snapped back. "Why did she kiss me back?"

"That's a good question! Why would she return a kiss from a cad like you?"

"Could it be because she enjoyed my kisses?"

"Kisses?" Saville exploded, and several punches rained down, each blow's impact drawing out another grunt of pain. "You kissed more than once. You are a dead man!"

Devil take it. "Can we discuss this like adults?" Warrick tried to crawl away but was anchored by Saville's weight.

"Of course we can," Saville growled. "The moment my fists are satisfied, let's talk."

"You crazy infant." Warrick shoved at his friend. "Let go of me."

"Once I have my satisfaction."

"Satisfaction, my arse!" With a quick roll, Warrick hooked his friend's torso and flipped them both to the floor, hitting the ground with a thud. He pinned the struggling man, hoping to reign in those vicious fists. "Get a hold of yourself, man! It's not like I ruined her."

"You dare use that term to my face. You better get your affairs in order. The bride price will be a queen's ransom!"

"Bride price? What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Your marriage, of course." The corners of Saville's lips turned up into a smile that made Warrick's skin crawl. "Brother."

"Don't say something you'll regret, friend."

"You refuse to take responsibility for my sister?"

"For a kiss? You must be mad."

"What do you mean I must be mad? If word gets out, she will be ruined! Just a whiff of a rumor is enough to cast suspicion onto her. You know that!"

"We weren't caught. No one will ever find out." Not exactly true.

"Who is the ridiculous one now? I didn't see you, but I still caught you."

"That's only because I didn't deny it." And Saville knew it.

"And why the hell didn't you deny it?" Saville started thrashing and managed to toss Warrick off to the side. "I didn't want to know!"

Warrick rolled to his knees, prepared for another onslaught of fists.

"Then why the hell did you come barging into my chamber leveling accusations in the first place? You and your sister are more alike than you know!"

Saville froze, but his eyes had turned to flame. "What did you just say?"

Warrick froze along with him.

Confound it.

Two steely eyes burned into him. "My sister was in your bedchamber? This very bedchamber?"

"It's not what you think. She wasn't alone."

"Oh? And who was with her?"

Me . . .

"There were servants all over the house." God, a lame excuse if there was any.

"Warrick." Saville's voice dropped to a dangerously low tone. "I expect a proposal by the end of today."

"You have high expectations for a lowly blackguard."

A leg shot out in a sharp kick. "Don't give me that rubbish!"

Warrick blocked Saville's boot and shoved it away from him. "What rubbish? If you violently attack me in my own chamber don't think of asking for favors."

"What favors? This is your duty! As a man. As a friend."

"You speak of duty? Did you offer marriage to any of the chits you kissed in the past?"

"I've never kissed an innocent one."

"Are you sure none of them were innocent?" Warrick challenged.

"This isn't about me," Saville bit out between clenched teeth.

Warrick shrugged. "I have no problem turning the tables."

"We are talking about my sister."

"And what does she want? Have you even asked her?"

"She kissed you, so she must have already decided."

"She would beg to differ."

"Are you speaking for her now? Is that how close the two of you have grown?"

"The point is that if you love your sister, you wouldn't try to force her into a marriage she is not prepared to accept."

"This is the way of the world. Love and happiness have no bearing on matters of money, reputation, and duty. You bloody know this already!"

Yes, he did. But then, who decided these societal rules in the first place? Perhaps he was tired of these rules. Perhaps he'd read too many idealistic novels. Perhaps that was why he kissed Selena, caught up in a moment that would work in fiction but not reality.

Whatever the case, on a normal day, hell would have to ice over before he coerced a woman into a marriage she didn't want. With Selena... hell, Heaven, and the universe combined would have to turn into icicles before he offered for her hand.

He valued his life, after all.

Saville threw another punch, this one smashing into the corner of his eye. "I will kill you."

"Better you do it than her," Warrick growled, temper erupting at having been caught off guard. He cursed when Saville grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked. Damn it, Saville didn't play fair.

If that's how it is . . .

Warrick threw several punches of his own and tried to twist out of that painful grip. Blackguard. He turned his head and bit down on the arm that refused to let go of his hair.

A curse rang through the chamber. "You damn dog!"

Warrick bit down harder.

A throat cleared loudly at the door.

Both men stilled, heads whipping to the sound. Four men filled the doorway.

What the hell?

A red-haired man stepped forward. Cameron, his footman. "My lord, we sent for help."

Warrick scowled. "Help?"

"Gentlemen." A tall man stepped forward. "I am Marcus Hunt, Bow Street Runner." His gaze flicked between the two men, their position. "I hesitate to ask, but I've learned as a Runner that not all things are what they seem, so I'll ask this only once. Is everything in order here?"

What. The. Hell?

Only then did Warrick realize his and Saville's limbs were tangled up like a couple of snakes.

He leaped to his feet—or tried, at least. A miscalculation. Saville was still frozen, his cooperation incomplete, leaving Warrick's back to hit the floor.

Deuced embarrassing.

Not the sort of brawl any man wants to have witnessed.

"A minor scuffle," he said and rose to his feet, a bit more cautiously this time. "No harm done."

"Speak for yourself," Saville exploded. He, at least, managed to rise with grace even though his tone still contained a sharp edge of pettiness. He covered the side of his face with his hand, hiding his mouth from their unexpected audience, and mouthed, pistols at dawn.

"Are you serious?"

Saville pointed at him. "Choose," he mouthed, "your second." Only then did he drop his hand.

Bloody hell.

Why hadn't he just denied Saville's accusation? He should have denied it until his last breath. Until even he believed he hadn't kissed Selena. That was how strong his denial should have been, damn it.

"My lord," Cameron spoke up after Saville had shoved his way past his footman and Mr. Hunt and stalked from the chamber. "We also received word about Lady Selena."

Warrick sighed.

What did that little she-devil do now? It didn't matter. Whatever she was up to now could not be worse than what had transpired in his bedchamber here today.

"She went to an alehouse, my lord."

She did what?