Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The early morning knock on Joanna's bedchamber door made her start. She hurried to tidy the bed and place her nightdress under her pillow, then patted her hair, calmed her nerves and called for Mr Chance to enter.

It wasn't Mr Chance but Eloise, a beautiful French woman with pale olive skin and black hair tied in a braid. "Pardon, madame. Mr Chance, he asks that you join his family downstairs in the dining room. Their daily meeting begins at nine. Mr Chance said you must have breakfast in your room before joining them."

Joanna had eaten supper in her room last night while trying to remember the names of the men who had visited The Burnished Jade. Mr Chance did his utmost to avoid her, hiding in his study, a sanctuary barred to intruders.

"Thank you, Eloise. What time is it now?" Joanna was sure she'd heard a church bell chime eight and the half hour.

Eloise gave an apologetic shrug. "It is almost nine, madame. The family are seated in the dining room, but Mr Chance said to join them once you have finished your morning meal."

"I see." Did Mr Chance have personal matters to discuss? Did he not want her to interact with his family? "Why invite me and then insist I arrive late? The man grows more confounding by the day."

Eloise pursed her lips, but a chuckle escaped. "I am sorry. I did not mean to laugh, but I think Mr Chance is afraid they will mention your … erm … sobriquet ."

"S obriquet ?"

" Oui , your pet name. Your moniker."

Joanna straightened. "My moniker?" She dreaded to think what it might be. "Are you telling me they mock me behind my back?" And yet they were all so warm and welcoming, except for their eldest brother, who had made his disapproval of her known.

" Non , it is not like that." Panic flashed in Eloise's dark eyes, and she clasped her hands together in prayer. "Your moniker, it is adorable. All the brothers have nicknames. Mr Chance is the King of Clubs."

Yes, Joanna knew the men teased each other about being kings and thought the names were all quite apt. The King of Clubs was a symbol of wisdom and authority. A born leader. A powerful ruler of his domain. The epitome of Aaron Chance.

"Then who am I?"

Eloise hesitated. "I—I cannot say."

"You have my word I will not repeat it."

The housekeeper remained defiant. "Mr Chance would?—"

"Please, Eloise. It might help me understand my place here. Mr Chance is kind and considerate one minute and avoids me the next. Please, tell me what the family calls me. I'll worry it's something terrible."

One could see an inner war in Eloise's expression. "You … you are Miss Scrumptious." Eloise put her hand to her mouth like she had committed a cardinal sin. "Madame, you must not repeat it to another soul. Mr Chance will throw me out."

"Miss Scrumptious?" Shocked and a little flattered, Joanna repeated it silently a few times. "Why would the family call me that?"

Eloise waved her hands as she stepped back and said ‘ non ' ten times or more. "Baptiste will sew my lips together if he knows I told you. Ignorance, it is bliss. Nothing good can come from knowing the answer. Mr Chance, he will never change. He will always be a stubborn mule."

Joanna could barely stand still. Her curiosity was like a flame feeding off these sparks of intrigue. "Do they think I'm sweet?" It was the only explanation that made sense.

" Non ."

"Well, what then?"

" Il te regarde comme s'il mourait de faim ."

"In English, Eloise. Please tell me. I'm not sure how long I can endure his odd silences."

Eloise made the sign of the cross. "They say he looks at you like he is starving. That is why they call you Miss Scrumptious."

"Starving?" Joanna couldn't catch her breath. She had seen indifference and annoyance in Mr Chance's dark eyes. The occasional flash of kindness. Never anything more.

"They say he wants you."

"Mr Chance? Are we speaking about the same gentleman?"

"He denies it and curses them all to the devil, but it is there in his eyes if you know where to look." Eloise reached for Joanna's hand. "He will send you away if he knows I have told you. He will do everything possible to make you despise him. Please, do not speak of this to anyone."

"I give you my word this will be our secret," she said, her legs shaking from this bolt from the blue. "You must trust me. I would never break a vow."

His behaviour last night made sense now. He was hiding, hiding the fact he was attracted to her. It explained his odd reaction in the carriage, and why he refused to let her accept Gabriel's help, a man who had already proposed marriage .

Joanna took a moment to consider her own feelings. The news did not have her reaching for her valise, desperate to flee. She didn't hug herself, scared to walk the corridors of Fortune's Den. Mr Chance would do the honourable thing and keep his distance. And yet she longed to probe his mind and learn more about him.

There was no better time than the present.

"I'll not be late for the meeting and will eat in the dining room," she said, keen to observe Mr Chance now she was armed with this enlightening information. "I'll have tea and one of Baptiste's delicious pastries."

"Mr Chance ordered eggs and ham and toast for you."

"Give it to Sigmund. He has the appetite of a heathen army. He will ensure nothing goes to waste this morning."

Joanna reassured Eloise for a final time, then tidied her hair and hurried downstairs to join the family meeting in the dining room.

If Mr Chance was surprised to see her, he gave no indication. He sat at the head of the table, wearing a black waistcoat moulded to his torso, observing her over the rim of his coffee cup.

Though her heart pounded, Joanna smiled when the Chance brothers and their wives turned towards her. "Good morning. Sorry I'm late."

Everyone grinned and welcomed her, except for Mr Chance. Like a skilled actor on the King's stage, he held the usual steely look in his eyes.

"Have you eaten?" he said, the remark a veiled reprimand. "We have a busy day ahead of us. I want to visit Parker and the Fitzpatricks. There'll be no time to stop en route. I'll not have crumbs in the carriage."

He didn't care about crumbs, though seemed to be averse to the sound of her licking her lips.

Everyone looked at her, anticipating her reply .

"May I sit here?" Joanna gestured to the chair opposite Mr Chance, the seat traditionally reserved for the mistress of the house, eager to witness every nuance, any hint his thoughts and actions were misaligned. She sat before he demanded she occupy the space beside his brother, Christian.

Eloise arrived with tea and two petite pastries. "I have the breakfast you ordered, madame." The poor woman's hand shook as she lifted the teapot off the silver tray, though she did not look Mr Chance's way.

"Thank you, Eloise."

Eloise took an order for more beverages.

"Are there more pastries?" Aramis asked, his eyes alight with mischief. "Bring what you have. I think we would all agree they look scrumptious."

Christian chuckled. "So scrumptious, Aaron must be eager to try one. I know sweet things are a real test of his restraint."

Aaron Chance firmed his jaw. "Miss Lovelace, perhaps now you understand why I asked you to eat before the meeting. My brothers will spend the next hour devouring the contents of the pantry."

"Oh. I thought it was because you hate me licking my lips and humming with pleasure. Baptiste's pastries really are the best I've ever tasted."

He held an indifferent expression. "If you want to eat like an animal, I suggest you dine with Mrs Wilcox, the zoological expert of Mayfair. She keeps a menagerie of feral beasts in her garden."

Joanna met his gaze. "As you often consider yourself a beast, I'm in good company. Perhaps you should begin the meeting. I promise to eat like a nun bound by a vow of silence."

She realised Mr Chance hadn't informed his brothers of Lord Howard's murder. Judging by their playful manner, they must presume she had other reasons for staying the night.

"Well?" Aramis said, prompting his brother to confess. "Why cancel the meeting yesterday? Why close the club last night?" He glanced at Joanna. "If it's because you needed personal time, you don't need to explain to?—"

"When have I ever needed personal time?" Mr Chance countered, rousing a vision of him working alone in his office until dawn. "When have I ever put my own needs before opening the club?"

"Why did you not explain the problem when I called last night?"

Aramis had arrived a little after eleven, his concern turning to frustration when Mr Chance informed him they would discuss it at the family meeting tomorrow. Joanna had listened from the landing and heard them argue as Mr Chance ushered his brother out. He'd had Sigmund follow discreetly behind to confirm Aramis made it home safely.

"Because he wants you to listen and heed his advice," Joanna said, surprising everyone by speaking for their brother. "He wants to ensure you do not embroil yourselves in our problem."

Mr Chance's dark eyes rose to meet hers, a lingering look that caused an odd ache in her chest, a look she could not define.

"Miss Lovelace asked for my help because she found a dead man on her premises," Mr Chance said calmly. "I summoned Daventry because I publicly threatened to kill the victim. As you all know, Lord Howard owed me a great deal of money. Someone drove a Mughal dagger into his back."

There was a collective gasp.

They all looked at Joanna as if she were to blame.

"I assure you, I am innocent," she said.

"I have a motive for murder," Mr Chance said, before describing his altercation with Lord Howard. "I found our father's gold hunter in Howard's pocket. A watch sold sixteen years ago." He gave a brief account of what happened at the pawnbroker's shop. "We have a week to solve the crime before we're taken in for questioning. We have Daventry to thank for that, or we would be eating bread and gruel in Newgate this morning."

"I'll kill Berridge for this," Aramis growled, thumping the table.

"Which is exactly what I'm instructing you not to do." Mr Chance spoke in the masterful tone of someone who expected to be obeyed. "What I want you to do is be vigilant. If Berridge hopes to ruin me, he'll be hoping to ruin us all."

"Should Eleanor cancel her clients?" Theodore said, reaching for his wife's hand. "Should she close the shop while the murderer is at large?"

Christian was equally concerned for his wife. "Isabella is giving a lecture at the library today. There's no telling who will be in the audience."

"Then take Sigmund. He will observe the crowd and help keep Isabella safe." Mr Chance raised a hand of reassurance when his siblings voiced other concerns. "Go about your business, but take precautions. Keep a loaded weapon. Remain at home when possible. I've written to Mrs Maloney. She'll be in Oxford with Delphine and Flynn until next week, but they, too, must be on their guard."

Mr Chance lived to protect his family.

And yet he could not be in five homes at once.

His sangfroid was something to be admired. His complete self-possession did not reflect the panic that must be rioting in his veins.

"I think it wise to restrict your movements," she said, wanting to support him because she knew what it felt like to live in constant fear. "Until we know who and what we're dealing with."

Mr Chance gave a curt nod of approval. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for this family," he said, worrying her slightly because he would give his life to save theirs. "I'll not rest until we can all breathe easily again. "

A heaviness fell over the room, the family's happiness replaced with a dread of the unknown.

"Would it be better if everyone came to live here?" Joanna suggested, despite a pang of reluctance. Mr Chance would have every excuse to avoid her then. "Would it be easier if we all lived under one roof?"

Mr Chance surprised her by saying, "No. It's more difficult to attack five targets than one. Until we gather more evidence, it's better for all of us if we live separately."

"It was just a thought."

"A considerate one," he said, keeping his mask in place. His gaze moved to his brothers. "I need to question Two-Teeth O'Toole. There'll be a price for information. He'll want me to fight for him out on the heath. I fight for no one but this family."

Aramis misunderstood his brother's meaning. "I shall fight."

"No. You'll find me something to use as leverage."

Aramis nodded.

"We'll not meet tomorrow." Mr Chance paused when Eloise returned with the pastries and fresh pots of tea and coffee.

Joanna took the opportunity to eat one of her own delicious treats. It took effort to use a napkin and not lick sugar off her lips. Her eyes kept fluttering closed as she savoured every bite.

Mr Chance watched her.

She smiled and mouthed, "They're so good."

His gaze dropped to his coffee, though she was convinced she saw the beginnings of a smile grace his lips. Why the action should cause a flush of heat in her core was anyone's guess. Why she had a sudden desire to make him happy proved confounding, too.

"We need to vary our usual routine," Mr Chance continued. "We'll meet at Daventry's office on Monday at noon. Any notes we exchange via the penny boy must contain the sacred rule and the symbols of our monikers in order of our birth. That way, we cannot be drawn into a trap. "

"The sacred rule?" Joanna said, amazed at his thoroughness.

"There must be no secrets between us, no lies," Christian said, gazing upon his brothers with abiding love and loyalty. "It's a rule we've lived by since our stepmother threw us out on the streets."

Joanna's home had been ripped from her, too. Unlike the Chance brothers, her grandfather had ensured she always had somewhere comfortable to live.

"Honesty is always the best policy," she said but did not look at Aaron Chance. "Secrets rarely remain hidden forever."

The last statement did not reflect her own personal journey. Her brother's fate would always remain a mystery. A mystery that would haunt Gabriel beyond the grave. The same might be said for her father, but she suspected he would reappear once his creditors had grown tired of looking for him.

"Perhaps you would like to stay with us, Miss Lovelace," Aramis' wife Naomi said. "An unmarried lady should have female company."

As Naomi had kidnapped Aramis at gunpoint and married him the same night, she was hardly one to worry about society's strictures. Indeed, Joanna wondered if the comment was made to test Mr Chance's resolve.

"As Mr Chance explained, we're bound by a curfew," Joanna said. Something else bound them together, too, an unnameable something she felt deep in her bones. "I'm not sure I'm permitted to reside elsewhere."

The constable had called at eight o'clock last night to ensure they had not absconded. She had seen Mr Chance for all of five minutes before they parted ways in the hall, bidding each other good night.

"It's more practical for her to remain here," came Mr Chance's logical reply. "Focus on looking after each other. I shall protect Miss Lovelace should any problems arise."

He was alluding to the escape plan. The plan to bundle her into a carriage during the early hours and set her on the first ship bound for France. Might he have an ulterior motive for playing the errant knight? In his battle to keep her at arm's length, would he seek to send her miles across the sea?

"No one can protect her better than you can," Theodore said with glowing pride. "One might think you've spent your whole life preparing for this moment."

"I've spent my life fighting to survive," he corrected before returning to the arrangements to meet in Mr Daventry's office on Monday.

They finished their beverages, and his brothers left Fortune's Den fifteen minutes apart. Each man assured Mr Chance they had survived worse and would survive this setback, too.

Naomi drew Joanna aside to deliver a cryptic message. "Most men have a gambler's instinct. They keep their cards close to their chest and master the cool expression that confuses their opponents. The trick is to call their bluff and force them to play their hand." She looked Mr Chance's way. "I'm confident the prize is worth the wager." With that, she hugged Joanna and left.

Then it was just her and Mr Chance again, just the two of them standing awkwardly in the hall. She searched his face, looking for the telltale sign Eloise mentioned, anything that might suggest a hunger to have her.

Nothing.

She would have convinced herself Eloise was mistaken had his brothers not mentioned the word scrumptious twice during the meeting.

"I'm ready to leave if you are," she said.

His brow furrowed. "Leave?"

"To question Mr Parker and the Fitzpatricks."

"Yes, let me fetch my coat."

"The coat you fill so well?" she teased.

The flash of amusement in his eyes was gone before he took the next breath. "Intelligence and physical strength are equally important when fighting for one's place in this world."

"How fortunate you have both in abundance."

He held her gaze for a little longer than necessary, long enough to rouse butterflies in her stomach, for warmth to fill her chest, the gentle glow lighting her from within.

"Fetch your pelisse and the hat I bought you."

She grinned. "I told Mrs Shaw to send me the bill."

"I paid while you were trying it on, and for another in midnight blue. It should be ready to collect on Monday."

She swallowed past the rising lump in her throat. No one had ever treated her so kindly. But it was more than that. It mattered because he had bought them, and she had an awakening desire to have him lavish her with gifts.

"For a cold-hearted devil, you can be quite charming."

"It was a logical decision based on necessity."

Mr Chance had a Norseman's skill for defending his position.

She gave a playful shrug. "You thought of me, even for a few seconds. That sets you apart from any other man of my acquaintance. Though take heed, a gentleman makes such purchases for his wife or lover. Now there is evidence to suggest we are more than colleagues, Mr Chance."

He arched a brow. "I shall record the purchases as work apparel." Every hand he played trumped hers. "It was a business decision, not a personal one."

She laughed at his absurd response. "You really are quite funny." Why would someone so strong and capable have to maintain a facade? "When did you develop such a dry sense of humour?"

In a fit of giggles, she laughed again. To an observer, these were not the actions of a suspected murderer.

Mr Chance watched her, his mouth drawn into a thin line, his jaw rigid, yet his compelling eyes turned traitor. From behind his mask of annoyance, his pupils dilated, betraying a fascination he failed to hide.

Wishing to unnerve him a little more, Joanna clutched her abdomen and touched his upper arm. Her fingers rested on his bulging bicep. "Don't be cross. If I don't laugh, I shall probably cry."

"There's nothing to fear. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Now she did feel like crying. Crying because he said the nicest things without realising. Crying because the wall he'd built around himself was strong enough to keep an army of marauders out.

She made a mental note to begin work on a siege tower.

"I'm confident this will all be resolved within the week," she said. Though her fingers itched to learn every hard contour, she released his arm. "Time is of the essence. We should go. I'll fetch my pelisse."

"I'll wait in the carriage."

She was climbing the stairs when he called out to her. "I've asked Baptiste to prepare an extra course tonight. We'll be gone most of the day and won't have time to eat."

Would she be eating in her room again? Would they spend the evening in separate parts of the house? Would the loneliness feel even more profound?

"Can we not take a basket?"

He glanced at her mouth. "I can tolerate most things, madam. Your soft sighs of pleasure are not one of them."