Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

" F itz." Mandrake turned around with a slow, brittle smile growing on his slender lips. "Just the man I want to see."

"It's Lord Fitzroy ," Fitz ground out from between his clenched teeth. "Only my friends call me Fitz."

Mandrake's smile didn't falter, which only further enraged Fitz. It was so phony, he hoped that Dot could see right through it as well.

"Hopefully in time then."

Fitz stared at him, aware that his initial outburst had caused many eyes to turn his way.

"Fitz," Dot said from between clenched teeth, "is there a problem?"

"You will not dance with this man."

"Lord Mandrake has not even asked me to dance yet."

"I was about to," Mandrake said more smoothly than Fitz would have liked. "In fact, I would like to ask for more than that."

"Mandrake—"

"I would like permission to call upon your sister. Tomorrow, if that would be all right with you, Lady Dot."

"I—" Dot looked from him and back to Fitz, who was about to step between them. "I think perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere else. Not with all of these eyes upon us."

Why did his sister have to be so damn level-headed?

"Fine," Fitz said in a low voice. "You can come to my townhouse tomorrow. But to talk to me. Not to Dot. Understood?"

"Very well," Lord Mandrake said. "I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Dot."

"Goodnight."

Mandrake began to walk away but Fitz sensed motion behind him, and he turned around to find that Eliza was still standing there, her eyes wide as she had apparently witnessed the entire exchange. Damn it.

"Lady Eliza," Mandrake said, stopping in front of her and lifting her hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon it. Her eyes grew, the blue of them becoming even more vivid. Fitz's ire flared, although this time, he couldn't do anything about it. He had no say over Eliza. But her brother did. He looked around, trying to find Baxter, hoping he could come and put a stop to this, but Baxter was nowhere in sight. Typical.

"Move along, Mandrake," Fitz droned loudly instead, causing both Eliza and his sister to gape at him. Damn it again.

Mandrake smirked at him knowingly before finally doing as Fitz requested, leaving him alone.

Only, he wasn't alone. Not only were three of his sisters with him – he belatedly noticed Hen and Sloane standing there – but Eliza didn't appear to be going anywhere.

"What?" he huffed as he met their stares. "I can't stand that man."

"Whyever not?" Dot asked.

Fitz gaped at her. "Seriously? He is only trying to become close to you to annoy me!"

Dot crossed her arms over her chest. "I find that quite offensive, Fitz. And why do you care if he speaks to Eliza? Minutes ago, it appeared the two of you would have loved nothing more than to never speak with one another again."

Fitz shifted from one foot to the other.

"I was looking out for her on behalf of her brother."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "I think I have heard enough. I shall speak with you ladies later?"

At their nods, she turned and walked away, and Fitz couldn't help but watch her and the swish of her hips, wondering what she was going to do next. Who would she dance with? Why did he care?

When he turned back around, his sisters were all watching him closely – even Sloane, who usually hardly paid him any attention at all.

"What is going on between you and Eliza?" Henrietta asked, and Fitz shook his head.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Nothing at all."

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Dot remarked, and Fitz wondered why all of the women in his life were so inquisitive and could not just accept what he told them like most women of their station.

"I'm tired," Sloane said with a yawn as she reached her arms up over her head. "I'm going to find Mother."

"Not yet," Henrietta said, her usual smile turning into a pout. "I'm having such fun."

"You always are," Sloane said. "Besides, by the time Mother agrees to leave, you shall be ready."

"Very well," Henrietta agreed before fixing an eye on Fitz.

"I'm not sure what you've done with my lighthearted brother," she said. "But I'd like him back now, if you please."

It was much later than Fitz would have liked when he saw his mother and sisters home. He led them into the house before returning to the carriage, refusing to answer their questions about where he was going or who he was going to see – and why they couldn't go with him. It was time for him to have some fun of his own.

He knew what Eliza thought of him. That he was a rake, taking one woman after another without regard for their emotions. In that, however, she was wrong. He was a flirt , not a rake. He enjoyed the attention of ladies, but he didn't follow through to anything more with most of them. He liked to be liked and enjoyed a little friendly banter. What was the problem with that?

But if that's what she wanted to think of him, then he might as well live up to her expectations. Tonight, he would go see Madeline. She could provide easy company and comfort that he wasn't getting anywhere else, that was for certain.

He stepped out of his carriage, instructing his driver to return home. He would call for a hack later in the night. He pushed open the door of The Scarlet Rose, which was dimly lit by flickering candles glowing in front of red velvet walls. The tables were littered with discarded cards and empty glasses, the high ceilings adorned with chandeliers dripping with crystals, although Fitz doubted their authenticity.

The air was heavy with the scent of tobacco and alcohol mixed with a faint hint of sweat and desperation. A sweet yet suffocating aroma of expensive perfumes lingered through the corners of the room, all not so different from the ballroom he had just left.

The occasional cry of victory punctuated the room along with the forced laughter of the women who were paid to be there.

One of whom he set out to find.

He weaved his way through the gentlemen who were throwing cards, many with women on their laps. He wasn't here for games. He actually wasn't much of a gambler – not with cards, anyway. He would rather take risks in other areas of his life. He would far prefer a dare of consequence, one that took him on an adventure that provided a true thrill, not a superficial one like the throw of a good card which served to fool most of the men in here.

"Madeline!" he exclaimed, a smile breaking out on his face when the dark-haired woman turned his way from her perch on a high stool in the corner of the hell – almost as though she was waiting for him.

A beauty mark that he was certain was added with charcoal sat above her red-painted lips, the rouge highlighting her cheekbones. He wasn't sure that she could be called beautiful, but she was certainly striking. He had been attracted to her in the past, but suddenly he found that her beauty was no longer quite so alluring. He was craving something far more natural. Softer. Less calculating.

Damn Eliza Munroe. Why was she in his head? She was his sisters' friend. Not a woman who he should be pursuing, especially after the… incident.

Yet he still enjoyed Madeline's company. She lived boldly, laughed loudly, and was never afraid to say things as they were.

"Fitz. I haven't seen you in ages but heard that you were back in London. I was hoping you would come by," she said, leaning over, holding her cigarette just beyond him as she lightly kissed his cheek. He had to fight the urge to wipe off her lipstick, even though he knew it was practically part of the accepted attire here.

"It has been a while," he said, leaning back, finding her perfume slightly too sweet. "I've been occupied."

"Ah yes, with your friend, the Duke of Death," she said, raising an eyebrow. "We hear just as much – if not more – in here as most do in your ballrooms."

"Likely more," he agreed, grimacing slightly when she mentioned Levi's nickname. He knew it was said all around London, and yet he didn't appreciate hearing it. "The Duke of Dunmore , however, is happier now than I have ever seen him, so it was well worth it."

"Good," she said, softening somewhat before looking around. "Would you like a moment alone?"

"I would," he said, straightening his spine, recalling his resolve. He was here for a purpose. To scratch the itch that had been bothering him for far too long. Since he had been away at Levi's. Had it truly been that long? He rubbed the back of his neck, which had begun to heat up as he tried to ignore just what – that was, who – had caused it.

"Come," she said, tilting her head toward the back of the room as she held out a hand. "We'll go to a private room."

He took her hand, following her, nodding to other gentlemen along the way who greeted him with knowing smiles, causing his shoulders to tighten. Since when had he cared so much about people knowing his business?

Since you began to care about what Eliza might think , said a little voice in his head – one that he tried to push away.

Madeline led them into one of the small back rooms, which Fitz imagined had been a bedroom at one point in time. It was draped in even more red velvet than the outside room, the bed sitting prominently in the middle.

She paused, staring at him for a moment with hesitation in her eyes. That was odd. "Drink?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, wiping his brow as sweat had begun to drip down. A drink would be most welcome. Should he not be looking forward to this? It certainly shouldn't be a chore.

She stood at the sideboard, her back to him, her long red dress nearly blending in with the wall in front of her.

"Whisky?" she said, her voice oddly detached.

"Whatever you have."

She turned around and when she passed him the glass, Fitz noticed that her hand was slightly shaking.

"Are you well?" he asked, narrowing his eyes for a better look at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Fine."

"Are you certain?" he asked, and she nodded tersely.

He lifted the glass to his lips, about to take a sip when she whirled around, shocking him by lashing out, knocking the glass away so that the liquid sprayed all over the room.

"Madeline?" he gaped in astonishment as his hand remained outstretched in front of him, as though he was still about to bring the drink to his lips. "What in the?—"

"You cannot drink that," she said with a shuddering breath. "It would kill you."