Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

M eredith couldn't believe her luck. She'd nearly lost her nerve and abandoned her plan to come here tonight at least half a dozen times. But each time she'd told herself she was being a ninny. And she reminded herself of why she was doing this. She wanted to live. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to experience passion with a young, handsome, virile man and—well, for now, passion would do. And it turned out brandy was absolutely lovely. It was making the room spin a bit, but it was also making everything seem like a lark. It was ever so exciting here. Especially with this particular man.

She'd finally made it to the club wearing the scandalous gown she'd had commissioned just for tonight. She'd had the buttons placed on the sides so she could dress and undress herself. Ingenious, if you asked her. And Madame Bonary had been only too eager to help. She'd paid the modiste a hefty sum, but it had been worth it. The jade gown was absolutely perfect. When she'd first put it on, her maid's eyes nearly popped from her skull. Meredith had sworn the young lady to secrecy. And she'd been nothing but thankful for the matching feathered satin mask that she'd commissioned along with it. Who knew that wearing a mask could make you feel so free? And so scandalous?

She'd hired a hack to bring her to the club. Then, after paying a pound, hearing the rules, and being ushered inside past the swinging golden lanterns and black curtains, she'd nearly cast up her accounts at the first look at the place. Her nerves had scattered through her belly. Had coming here been a mistake?

The Onyx Club was quite a sight. Crowded, loud, and filled with people who were obviously much more experienced than she. She was far, far out of her element. But she was too frightened to turn and run. Too frightened or too stubborn. She wasn't quite certain which any longer. And so, the only alternative had been to put one foot in front of the other and move farther into the large, intimidating space.

She'd begun at the bar top. As good a place as any. A drink would help calm her nerves, she'd reasoned. And she'd ordered brandy. Champagne seemed far too mild for a place like this. Not five minutes had passed before the man in a purple waistcoat came over and whispered something positively indecent in her ear. She should have been flattered. She should have been glad to have found someone who appeared to be interested so quickly, but that man, whoever he was, had been too brash, too eager. She didn't like the feral look in his eyes or the way he leered at her and stared only at her breasts. No doubt she was terribly na?ve, but she wanted someone who would move a bit slower. Give her time to think.

Thank heavens for this man, Mr. Sapphire Waistcoat. He'd been calmly propped against the far wall, looking like a beacon in a storm when she'd first spotted him. Then, when she'd needed a place to run to, he'd been there, even closer than before. And when she'd got up very close to him, she realized that he was excessively handsome. He smelled good, a familiar scent that made her feel safe. In fact, he reminded her a great deal of…Griffin. He seemed kind like Griffin too. He certainly wasn't trying to pressure her into doing anything. On the contrary, he'd just mentioned that she'd had too much to drink. Which was true. But this was what she'd come here for, wasn't it? To find a handsome man and…well, go somewhere private with him. The drinks had emboldened her enough to ask. There were private rooms upstairs. Or so Clare had been told.

Now that she had her lips on Mr. Sapphire, she didn't regret it. Because his hot mouth opened and slanted across hers, and he pulled her body against his as his tongue tangled with hers. It was as if she went up in smoke, mind and body. Young, handsome, and virile, indeed . She'd never experienced anything like it. Unfortunately, it was far too brief because nearly as quickly as he'd transformed the kiss into something mind-numbingly intense, he pulled her hands from around his neck and stepped back.

"No." He shook his head.

"No?" she echoed, feeling bereft. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean you're not in a state to make a decision like this."

She leaned toward him and gave him a saucy half-smile. "I made the decision before I walked in the door tonight."

That kiss had certainly made her feel as if he wanted her. So why was he telling her she wasn't in a state to make a decision like this?

"Be that as it may," he said.

"My friend, Griff—" She stopped and shook her head. No names . "I have a friend who often says that."

The man froze. His shoulders didn't move, and his breathing stopped.

Something triggered her memory. Was it his voice? The way he stood? He did remind her of Griffin. "In fact," she continued, peering at him more closely, "you look quite a lot like my friend." And he really did. Tall, muscled, dark hair, dark eyes. He looked very much like Griffin. But it couldn't be Griffin. Could it? Ooh, why did the thought thrill her a bit? She eyed him carefully. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you are my friend." She forced a laugh. "Only he would never be at a club like this." Hadn't he spent the last few days trying to talk her out of coming here?

No. No. This wasn't Griffin. That made no sense. Perhaps she was more inebriated than she thought.

Mr. Sapphire closed his eyes. "I don't think?—"

No. No thinking. Not tonight. She wanted someone who was equally uninterested in thinking. The room was spinning faster now. She wanted this man. Besides, Griffin was positively delicious, so why wouldn't she want someone who looked like him? Did it matter if she'd be thinking of Griffin while they?—?

No. No. No. That had to be the drink talking. She didn't fancy Griffin in that way.

Did she ?

Hmm . He was quite fine to look upon and his body was— Oh, why couldn't she banish thoughts of Griffin? And this man definitely wasn't Griffin. He couldn't be .

"Are you going to take me to a room, or do I need to seek my pleasure elsewhere, sir?" Oh my. Had those words truly come out of her mouth? That had been forward, hadn't it? She would never say such a thing if she weren't half-sauced and wearing a mask.

Mr. Sapphire's jaw clenched. He groaned. Perhaps she'd been a bit heavy-handed in demanding his answer, but his putting her off had bruised her feelings. Was she not pretty enough? Not desirable enough? The thought caused the old pain to slice through her. Her husband rejecting her. Sending her away. Blaming her .

No . None of that tonight. This was the place where men and women came to engage in scandalous pursuits, was it not? If this man wasn't interested, then she would just have to find a man who was.

He huffed a deep breath before grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him. "Come with me."

Meredith smiled to herself. Ooh, good. She'd won.

Tugging Meredith behind him, Griffin stalked over to the bar and asked the barkeep for a key. Thank God Ash had told him how it all worked before he'd stepped foot in this place. Griffin hadn't been planning to get a room himself, of course, but Ash had shared the information just the same. Now it was proving useful.

Damn Meredith and her stubbornness. In the scant moments Griffin had had to contemplate the matter, he'd decided the safest course would be to take her to a room where they could be alone. She needed to sober up. And he needed time to think. No doubt he would have to come clean, take off his mask, and admit to following her here, but first things first. He couldn't allow her to drunkenly trip about the club looking for just anyone to take her upstairs. The next man she ran into was likely to have the scruples of the Earl of Marsden or worse. And that would be a disaster.

After securing the key to room seven, Griffin led Meredith behind him through the black curtains at the back of the room, down a short corridor, and up a staircase to the second floor. They moved through the hallway together, not saying a word until they came to the room. He unlocked the door and allowed her to precede him inside.

Griffin remained in the hallway for a few moments, trying his damnedest to sort through his thoughts. That kiss had been scorching. As if it had changed the alchemy of his soul. Feeling Meredith's mouth on his, her lips, her tongue, her body sliding against his, had been seconds of pure torture. It hadn't been a choice, really, to lean into that kiss, to pull her fully against him.

Thank God he'd come to his senses quickly enough to put an end to it. Or he could have taken her right there against the wall near the faro table. That's not what she wanted. At least it wouldn't be when she was clearheaded.

But she wasn't clearheaded. Which had to be why she hadn't recognized him. He'd done nothing to disguise his voice. Was a mask truly that concealing?

She'd said her friend would never come to a place like this.

Think again, Mere. I wouldn't come to a place like this unless you were here .

There was only one proper way to handle this. Let the drink wear off and tell her the truth. He would pray later that she would listen to him and just go home. She had to.

Griffin took another deep breath. Then he pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. The flash of a flint lit up the space for a moment before a lantern's soft glow replaced it, and when his eyes finally adjusted, Griffin realized that Meredith was standing in front of him in nothing but a flimsy shift.