Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Mason had arrived a few minutes early. He found that the longer he waited at home, the more distracted he got. He couldn't sit still, and paced his house until eventually he decided he would just be there earlier.

In the alleyway, though, he wondered if he'd made the right choice inviting her. By that point, it wasn't the same concerns he had before. He knew that he would let no harm come to her. She'd already taken the risk of being seen unchaperoned, so that wasn't a problem either.

He wanted to abandon his plan and run away from his nerves. Mason was worried about how he might behave, which was uncommon for him. He'd always been confident in himself. Suddenly, he worried whether he'd make a good impression. He was afraid of embarrassing himself.

Mason leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. The only thing to stop him from running away that night was that he didn't want to leave her waiting in the dark for him. That would have been much worse.

He heard her footsteps only a moment before they came to a complete stop. Mason looked up and there she was, lit by the moon and beautiful as ever. She had paused when she saw him. Dressed in black, she looked like a vision from a dream.

His heart gave a loud thump as he pushed himself off the wall to greet her. Every step he took toward her felt important.

"I'm pleased you came," he said.

He no longer wanted to run. Rather, he wanted to get going so that they could start their night together. But also, he liked being tucked away with her in the alleyway under the cover of darkness.

His mind flooded with all sorts of ways they could spend their time together in that small alleyway. But he pushed it aside. She deserved a better gentleman than that.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

He led her to the carriage and opened the door for her.

When she was inside, he gave the carriage driver the location.

"Take it at an easy pace, will you?" he asked, hoping to draw out the trip as much as possible. We have time. We're early."

The driver gave him a nod, and Mason followed her eagerly inside and made himself comfortable across from her, eyeing her every moment he had the chance.

"It took you long enough," she teased. "I was starting to think you had me fooled."

"I have no intention of fooling you," Mason answered. "The information I have found was difficult to retrieve."

She nodded that she understood. "Where are we going then?" she asked.

"Covent Garden," he answered.

"At this time of night?"

Mason smiled. "You'll see."

He had gone on a few excursions for clues without her, and none of them had been as exciting as it was when she was around. Despite them being in such close quarters, he wished that there was even less space between them.

He imagined what it might be like if he reached out and took her hand. Would she reject him? Would she reprimand him for it, or was she the kind of woman who might wrap her fingers in his and hold?

While they'd gotten to know each other better, he didn't know the answer to that question. While normally, he would prefer the kind of woman who was open to it, he hoped that she would push him away.

For the first time in his life, he wanted to be special to someone. He wanted to be the only person she had any interest in. It was an odd feeling, one he didn't know where to place.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Ethan. Mason had always thought that no woman could keep up with his adventurous lifestyle, that a wife would slow him down or keep him in place. That kind of life would make him miserable.

Miss Owen was changing his mind about that, though. For the first time, he realized that perhaps he could have someone he loved, a beautiful woman who could accompany him around the world.

He wondered just how much the experiences would mean if he had someone to share it with. Up until then, they meant something only to him. There were few who understood just what he had seen and experienced.

He liked the idea of having someone with him. Someone to enjoy the moments with him and a woman to reminisce with when he was too old and frail to carry on with his lifestyle. One day, he would be forced to settle, and he wondered if he'd be all right spending his final days alone.

"I look forward to this evening," Miss Owen said. "I'm afraid your influence has made my normal life seem rather boring."

He couldn't help but laugh then. "So, I'm a good influence then?"

"That's easy for you to say," Miss Owen commented. "Nobody frowns upon you for the life you lead. I'm supposed to enjoy my boring life."

Mason had not considered that. He had never really paid much mind to the normal life of women. Had he been so foolish as to simply assume that they were always happy with it? Why had he been given the option of freedom when she hadn't?

It hadn't bothered him before, but it did then.

"We're here," he said, peering out the window.

Down the street from where they stopped was an old bookshop. The shop had always intrigued Mason as it was often open right through the night. It made it a popular stop for those who weren't big drinkers, and was often filled with people. There were tables where tea and coffee were serves while patrons read their books.

Mason now wondered if that wasn't just a cover for a secret society to have a safe space to meet in private. The space was small and catered largely to students of literature. For that reason, Mason had never set foot in the place. It had not seemed like his kind of place.

He had been wrong.

"Who are we tonight?" she asked.

"Literature students who have recently wed," he answered, eager to play that game of pretend again. "We're here because someone told us that it's a good place for a read. We're scholars and this is our idea of a night out."

Miss Owen cast him an amused glance. "I can certainly pull that one off."

"I know it might not be our idea of a night out, but many people find this a popular place to enjoy their evening," he explained.

"A night in a bookshop is precisely my idea of fun," Miss Owen explained.

They stepped inside. The atmosphere was strange and entirely not what Mason was used to. When he went out at night he often found himself in louder places, where men sang and laughed and enjoyed an ale together.

The shop was quieter. There were quiet conversations and light chuckles. A lot of the patrons sat quietly as they read.

"We need to look for a group of men that matches what we're looking for," Mason explained. "Let's pretend we're shopping. Come find me if you see them."

Miss Owen nodded as she chose a route through the shelves. He watched her disappear down an aisle, his eyes lingering on her for a moment.

Then he went his own way. There were tables dotted throughout the room, and he walked slowly as he pretended to browse the books. None of the patrons in the shop matched the kind of gathering he was looking for.

Then he spotted something odd. A man walked past him and toward a small door in the back of the shop. He watched as the man greeted what appeared to be a guard of some kind. The door was opened, and he disappeared inside.

Mason knew that the gathering he was looking for was right through that door.

Miss Owen hadn't gone far. When he found her, she was peering over the pages of a book, eyeing every patron in the shop.

"I have found them," he said. "They're not in this room, but another."

"Let's go," she whispered.

"It might be more complicated than that," Mason offered.

He held out his arm to her, and she took it. The moment she was at his side, he felt less concerned about it. They walked toward the door as confidently as they could, and Mason reached for the door.

The guard stepped in front of it.

"I've never seen you before," the guard said.

He felt Miss Owen's grip on his arm tighten. He reached out and placed his hand over hers to assure her that it was all right.

"There are going to be new people coming through this door eventually," Mason said.

The guard eyed them both closely. Mason wasn't sure what he would do next. He'd arrived at the door with no plan.

"If we weren't meant to be here, how would we know about this door at all?" Miss Owen said, surprising Mason. "I mean, honestly, you're doing a great job, but you don't want to get in anybody's way, do you? The longer we spend here discussing it all, the more suspicious we all look."

She looked the guard straight in his eyes, her face unchanging. The guard glanced back at the door and then toward them again.

"All right," the guard said. "But if you don't tread carefully, you'll be leaving here with many bruises."

"You won't have to worry about us," she said.

Mason reached for the door handle, and the guard did not stop them. He pushed the door open, and on the other side was a dark staircase that led to a room in the basement. There were a few tables about and around them groups of men sat in circles, their faces clouded with smoke.

In the center of the room was a boxing ring, and Mason truly understood then the purpose behind the late night bookshop.

In the farthest corner was a table with a larger group of men. They leaned forward as they spoke, some of them matching the description he had gathered from other witnesses. He led Miss Owen to a small table close to them and sat her down.

A card was delivered on which they needed to place their bets. It was certainly no place for a woman and Miss Owen's presence there was causing quite a stir. They placed their bets, and soon enough, the fight began.

"We need to listen in. Anything we can hear about their conversation will be useful," Mason said. "We're going to have to pretend we enjoy this."

The men were in quiet conversation, but Mason did catch one phrase. One of the men said the words, "rising from the ashes."

As the night progressed, the phrase was used again and again. All the while, Mason lost money on the fights. He had to not worry about that, and focus on the task at hand so that he could get Miss Owen out of there as quickly as possible.

It was difficult to hear, though, as men around them cheered and shouted at the matches. So, they came up with a cunning plan. Every time there was a loud cheer, Mason would nod at Miss Owen and they would shuffle their chairs and table closer to the other one.

Only in small amounts so that they could get closer and hear better. He knew then that they referred to themselves as the Lordsmen, and that they belonged to a larger group referred to as the "Phoenix Society."

They seemed to be choosing their words carefully and in a manner that would be difficult for anybody else to understand. It gave him no answers, but added to what he knew. Eventually, he would have enough to piece the puzzle together.