Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Three Nights Later, The Duke of Southbury's Bedchamber

G riffin tugged viciously at the cuff of his white starched shirt. His valet had just finished helping him dress. In addition to the shirt, he wore buff-colored buckskin breeches, a sapphire waistcoat, and a white cravat. A black demi-mask lay on a nearby tabletop.

He stared at his reflection in the cheval glass in his dressing room and scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair. Fuck all. He was really going to do this. He was going to go to the Onyx Club tonight to keep an eye on Meredith.

He'd tried his damnedest the other night to talk her out of it. Tried every day since then too. He'd even begged her to allow him to come along to keep her safe. But she'd refused his every plea. The lady had made up her mind, and tonight was the night.

Of course Meredith going to the club was a horrible idea. He'd tried to explain that to her. But she was too blasted stubborn. Meredith had always been the sort who needed to experience things for herself. You couldn't tell her anything. Hadn't he tried—no, begged—her not to marry Maxwell? But she hadn't listened then and she wouldn't listen now. Griffin's only choice was to watch her and make sure she didn't get hurt. Ash would expect no less.

Oh, Griffin had toyed with the idea of trying to seduce her himself. After all, it would be an unholy temptation. But that would be wrong. Even if Meredith was looking for an intimate encounter with a stranger, it would be wrong to know who she was and not reveal his identity. But he could go to the club and watch her. Ensure she didn't end up with a scoundrel or, worse, someone who would be rough with her. Hurt her. He clenched his fists. If anyone tried to hurt her, he'd kill the bastard.

Griffin shook his head and sharply sucked air in through his nose. He could only hope that once she arrived at the club, she would quickly realize the error in her judgement. After all, according to Ash, the Onyx Club wasn't for the meek or the faint of heart. The only problem was…Meredith wasn't meek. Far from it, actually. But would she truly go through with something as bold as taking a stranger as a lover?

There was only one way to know for certain.

Not half an hour later, Griffin's coach dropped him at the back entrance of the Onyx Club. He'd been forced to do some serious acting when he'd asked Ash for advice on how to conduct himself inside.

Ash nearly had a laughing fit when Griffin informed him that he intended to spend an evening at the Onyx Club. Of course, Griffin had not informed the marquess of his own sister's intentions to go there. But after his laughter died down, Ash had realized that Griffin was quite serious. Ash told him about the secret entrance at the back of the club, where urchins ran back and forth summoning coaches. According to Ash, for the correct amount of coin tossed their way, they were quite discreet about the patrons' identities. A gentleman's coach carried his family seal, after all.

Mask firmly in place, Griffin entered the stone archway at the rear of the club, gave a pound note to the door attendant, and was shown to a special table in the back where he took a seat. He'd already heard the club rules from Ash. No names. No personal questions. And no sharing any stories about his time at the club. Simple enough.

Griffin ordered a brandy from a footman wearing gold and black livery and turned to watch the crowd. The ladies' attire was a far cry from the demure gowns worn at the ton events he was used to. The women here wore gowns pulled down so low their nipples were nearly exposed. Their skirts were cut up to their thighs. Their lips were painted red, and their hair was loosely held up by a few pins.

The men were equally relaxed. No overcoats. Relaxed cravats. Tight breeches that left very little to the imagination. They all wore demi-masks, but already Griffin recognized more than one person here. Thinly disguised, indeed. Ash had been right.

Raucous laughter and curse words flew through the air, while drinking, gambling, and plenty of fondling appeared to be the order of the day. Griffin searched the rowdy crowd, scanning every woman's face for Meredith. He would know her anywhere. Though he couldn't imagine what she might be wearing tonight. To his knowledge, Meredith didn't own anything scandalous enough to wear here. But if Clare Handleton had known enough about this place to recommend it to Meredith, she must have also known enough to tell Meredith to alter her attire for the occasion. And Meredith herself had already mentioned the masks. She clearly knew that much.

A lady in a bright pink satin gown that revealed far too much sidled up to him. "You're new here," she declared with a wide smile, her blue eyes sparkling behind her white silken mask.

Griffin didn't recognize her. "Indeed. Am I so obvious?" he drawled.

"I would have noticed you before, handsome." She reached out and dragged a bare finger along his jaw. Apparently, the women here didn't find gloves to be a necessity either.

Before Griffin had a chance to say more, she plunked herself down on his knee and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her generous breasts to his chest. "Care to go upstairs?"

Hmm. Seemed there was little pretense at the Onyx Club. Not that he hadn't expected as much. Griffin was no stranger to the attentions of bawdy women. He'd certainly spent some enjoyable hours with his share of barmaids at school, but this woman's cloying perfume did not tempt him. He stood and helped her to stand, ensuring she was steady on her feet before releasing her elbow. "No, thank you."

"No, thank you?" she echoed in a prim accent before letting out a far-too-loud laugh. "A polite chap, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. Was she a well-to-do member of the ton looking for amusement, or was she a courtesan? Apparently, both sorts of ladies frequented this establishment.

"Good evening, my lady." He bowed to her, grabbed his drink, and took off into the crowd. The fewer people who laid eyes on him, the better. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene or to be recognized. But would Meredith recognize him? How could she not? Which is why he didn't intend to introduce himself to her. He would simply find her and keep an eye on her. From afar. Perhaps dissuade an overly amorous suitor from making her an indecent proposal if he had to.

Griffin took a stroll around the perimeter of the place. His walk revealed several more people he knew—or thought he did. Many of the men were married. Not shocking, but Griffin couldn't help but think that once he managed to convince Meredith to marry him, he would never stray from her side.

After completing his perusal, Griffin decided to take up residence near the front entrance. He hadn't seen Meredith in the crowd, and he guessed she'd enter through the front of the establishment as most ladies did.

He leaned against the wall near a faro table, close enough to watch the play as if he was interested, but far enough away to be clear he wasn't interested in participating. The better part of an hour passed, and he'd been forced to decline the advances of three more women before the black curtains at the front of the establishment parted and Meredith stepped inside.

He knew her immediately. After all, he'd memorized everything about her. He'd know her full pink lips and the delicious curve of her shoulders anywhere. Her luscious dark hair was captured in an unruly bun at the nape of her long neck. Her glowing gray eyes peeped out from beneath a jade-green demi-mask.

Apparently, her friend had told her about the dress code because tonight Meredith was wearing a dress unlike any he'd ever seen her in. It was made of jade-green satin with matching tulle wrapped around the shockingly low bodice and a tight satin skirt that was cut up to her thigh. When his gaze traced the creamy curve of her long leg up to where the slit stopped, Griffin had to swallow. Hard.

Damn it. She couldn't be here dressed that way. She'd be approached by half a score of men in mere moments.

Behind her mask, her alert eyes darted through the crowd. Her eyes were the only part of her that belied a certain hesitancy, a bit of anxiety. But soon, after she'd taken in the scene in front of her, she squared her shoulders and began to walk determinedly toward the nearest bar top.

Griffin watched her from beneath his lashes, still feigning interest in the faro game. He mustn't follow her too closely or she might see him and recognize him.

She slid onto one of the black wooden stools in front of the bar and spoke quickly to the barkeep. Griffin was too far away to hear what she said above the din. The barkeep left and returned a few minutes later with a glass of dark liquid in a snifter. Griffin raised his brows. Meredith was obviously drinking real alcohol tonight. No simple glass of champagne for her. Which meant he'd have to watch her even more closely. She was rubbish when she drank too much, and more than two glasses of champagne was too much for Meredith.

Not moments after the barkeep walked away, pocketing the coin Meredith handed him, another man appeared at her side. This man wore tight breeches, a purple waistcoat, and a leering smile. His dark-blond hair was slicked back and— Dear God. Was that the Earl of Marsden? He was married and a total lecher. Surely, Meredith would recognize him and send him away.

The earl pulled his stool so close to Meredith's that he was breathing down her neck. And taking in an indecently close view of her décolletage . Griffin clenched his fist. His fingers ached to punch the man in the throat and toss him across the room .

When the earl reached out and traced Meredith's collarbone with a gloveless fingertip, Griffin had to close his eyes and count to three to keep himself from stalking over there and ripping the earl off the stool.

But Meredith leaned back, and the earl's hand dropped away from her. Good. Marsden had just been saved from bodily harm…for the moment.

Griffin narrowed his eyes at the couple. Meredith was imbibing far too quickly, which meant she was nervous. It wasn't long before her glass was empty, and the earl flagged down the barkeep to order her another.

Griffin continued to watch them. She accepted the new glass with shaking hands. The earl reached out to touch Meredith's cheek. That was it. Whether she knew it was him or not, Griffin had to send Marsden packing. Griffin pushed himself off the wall and stalked toward the couple, intent on upending Marsden's barstool for a start. But just as the earl's hand nearly reached her, Meredith's arm shot up, and she blocked his touch. Then she swiveled quickly on her seat. Her eyes swiftly searched the crowd, and her gaze locked directly on Griffin's. He was standing midway between her and the wall, but his eyes were intent on her. She hopped off her seat, tossed a few words to Marsden, and made her way unerringly toward Griffin.

Damn. She knew him. She must have recognized him. Why else would she be heading straight for him? But it didn't matter. She was clearly trying to get away from Marsden's unwanted attention, and Griffin was ready to help. She would ask him what he was doing here, and he would simply tell her the truth. He sucked in a deep breath, ready to plead his case.

Meredith came to a stop in front of him. "Sir, will you please pretend you're talking to me?"

Griffin blinked. "Pardon." It was an idiotic thing to say, but it had simply fallen from his lips. Did she not realize it was him? Truly?

"Will you pretend to know me?" she asked more frantically this time, glancing back towards Marsden, who had stood and paid and was on his way toward them.

Now was not the time for confessions. "Yes, of course," Griffin quickly amended.

"Thank you," she whispered. "A gentleman at the bar was overly friendly, and I'd like to excuse myself from his company. With your help, if you don't mind."

"Do you know who he is?" Griffin asked.

Her brow crumpled into a frown. "I thought we weren't allowed to ask personal questions or discuss names here."

Griffin shook his head. What had he been thinking? "Yes. Of course. Regardless, I'm happy to help you."

They didn't have time to say more because Marsden arrived, his leer firmly in place. "My lady. Off so soon? I thought we were having an interesting conversation," he said in a wheedling tone that made Griffin want to punch him even more.

"Seems the lady prefers my company," Griffin said, giving the arse a tight smile.

"But we had just begun our acquaintance," Marsden said while staring directly at Meredith's breasts.

Griffin's knuckles cracked as he made a fist. It would feel so good to punch this bastard in the face.

"I was interested in continuing my conversation with the lady here," Marsden continued.

"And she's not interested in continuing it," Griffin shot back, his eyes narrowing on the earl.

Marsden lifted his nose in the air. "I should like to hear that from the lady herself, if you?—"

"He's right," Meredith said, raising her chin and forcing Marsden's gaze to meet hers. "I am not interested in continuing our acquaintance…Sir."

"Ah, but I had just purchased your drink," Marsden said, his smile downright unctuous.

Griffin's knuckles cracked again. What sort of man, let alone a purported gentleman, would mention the fact that he purchased a lady's drink…as if she owed him anything in return?

Griffin pulled a coin from his coat pocket and flipped it to Marsden. "There's your money. Now be off with you."

Meredith smiled behind her glass.

Marsden grabbed the coin and pocketed it, his own smile still tight. "It's not about the coin, Sir," he said in a mock-offended voice. "I had hoped?—"

"We all know what you had hoped. Now leave or I'm happy to continue this conversation with you alone…in the back alley." It took everything in Griffin to keep from telling Marsden to go home to his long-suffering wife. But no names, he reminded himself. And no personal information.

The earl's eyes narrowed to slits, but after a few moments, he turned abruptly on his heel and left.

"Thank you," Meredith said, breathing a long sigh of relief after Marsden melted into the crowd.

Griffin bowed. "You're quite welcome, my lady."

"How do you know I'm a lady?" Her eyes were filled with suspicion and perhaps a hint of…alarm?

"Merely a guess," he reassured her, shrugging. She still didn't recognize him. Interesting. Well, it was dark in here and she had been drinking and…this was the last place she would expect to find him, even though he had offered to come with her.

She was taking too large sips of her drink. She had to be intoxicated. The encounter with Marsden had obviously shaken her .

"Why are you here?" he blurted.

She turned her head to the side and eyed him carefully. "That isn't a personal question, is it?"

He allowed the hint of a grin to touch his lips. "I hope not because I'd very much like to hear the answer."

She took another quick sip of her drink. "What if I don't want to tell?"

He nodded. "That is your prerogative, of course."

"Why are you here?" she countered. Another sip.

He expelled a breath before deciding upon his answer. "I am checking on a friend."

She lifted a brow. "A lady friend?"

He tipped his head from side to side. "Perhaps."

She eyed him carefully. "So you're not looking for an…arrangement?" Was that disappointment in her eyes?

"An arrangement?" he echoed.

She shook her head, and her gaze dropped to the floor. "My apologies. This is my first time here. I'm not certain precisely what you call it."

"Would you believe it's my first time here too?" he answered quietly.

Her head shot up and surprise registered in her eyes. "Truly?"

"Yes. This isn't my usual sort of…" He glanced around and shrugged again. "Crowd."

She nodded slowly and took a long sip from her glass. "I wasn't certain what to expect."

"And? How do you find it now that you're here?"

She rocked back and forth on her heels. Such a Meredith thing to do. "A bit intimidating, if I'm honest. But…" She stopped, lifted her chin, and looked him square in the eye. "I must say you're quite handsome."

Griffin nearly choked. "Par…pardon?"

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. Is that too forward? I was under the impression that being forward is how things are done here." She drained her glass.

Griffin scrubbed a hand through his hair. Damn. He was acting a complete fool. But he'd never expected to encounter her this way, speak to her like this. And he should have taken that blasted glass out of her hand when he'd had the chance.

She held up her empty glass. "Will you…buy me another?"

"Don't you think you've had enough?" He nearly rolled his eyes at himself. He was hardly acting the role of the intrigued suitor. But something told him not to blurt out his identity quite yet. Perhaps it was the way she was looking at him. Perhaps it was the way she'd told him he was handsome. Perhaps it was the desire to keep her from slapping him and stomping off to talk to another man, which she might well do if he told her who he was right now.

"Funny. The man in the purple waistcoat was only too eager to buy me a drink," she replied.

"The man in the purple waistcoat was trying to take advantage of you."

She giggled. Giggled . Meredith never giggled. Confirmed. She was drunk as a wheelbarrow. "And what if I want to be taken advantage of?"

Griffin had no time to respond to that leading question before Meredith's arms were around his neck.

Time stopped. Griffin had dreamed of this moment for years. Hell, there had been nights sleeping on a cot in the army where this exact same development had played out in his imagination time and again. But in every single one of the fantasies, Meredith knew who he was. Knew who he was and wanted him . That was his dream. Not this.

He made to pull her arms from around his neck, but she plastered her body against his and said, "Take me somewhere where we can be alone."

Griffin's body betrayed him by going rock hard. He swore under his breath, clenched his jaw, and forced himself to say, "You've had a lot to drink."

"Or not nearly enough." Meredith lifted on her tiptoes and kissed him.