“It’s monstrously large.”
“I believe he considers it his crowning glory. It sets the stage for the area.”
“It’s going to be a grand area, isn’t it?”
“If the rumors are to be believed.”
She snapped her attention to him. “How can you look at that and not believe?”
“Too pragmatic, I suppose. I have to wait for the results.”
The results would be spectacular. She had no doubt. A man who could create something like this was a man with vision, and a determination to ensuring it came to fruition.
The carriage moved up slowly, bit by bit, eventually reaching the front of the building, with its sweeping steps leading up to the glass doors. An assortment of people—some much more posh than others—were swarming toward them, disappearing inside.
A waiting footman opened the carriage door. Kip exited, then reached back and helped her to descend. The building was even more impressive when she was so near to it. She was suddenly incredibly grateful that Kip had accepted Mr. Trewlove’s invitation, that she was on the verge of seeing something so grand, of being part of a night that would have repercussions for years to come. The man was starting something here tonight that would spread out to have an impact on others, like a pebble tossed into a pond creating expanding ripples that eventually touched shore. Placing her hand in the crook of Kip’s elbow, she began the ascent into what would surely be paradise.
Mick Trewlove had remarkable taste. That was her initial thought when they stepped into the lobby where the plucked strings of a harp created a calming ambience. Well-heeled footmen walked about carrying silver trays holding flutes of champagne or small bites of food that could be easily eaten while standing. Gaslights burned in an array of glittering crystal chandeliers that illuminated everything. The walls were a dark wood she couldn’t help but believe reflected their owner.
Their owner. Who stood near the red-carpeted sweeping staircase with its polished dark banister and balustrade. He wore evening attire: a black swallow-tailed coat, waistcoat, trousers. A pristine white shirt with a perfectly knotted gray cravat. White gloves covered his large, roughened hands, laborer’s hands. If she hadn’t seen them in the flesh, she wouldn’t know of the host of tales they revealed, now hidden away. Proper clothing could make the most common of men appear nearly royal—and Mick Trewlove, regardless of his birth, was anything but common.
His beard was neatly trimmed. His black hair was more styled than she’d ever seen it—and she would swear it was a tad shorter, as though he’d clipped it just for this occasion. He stood a head taller than anyone surrounding him, so it was with ease that he captured and held her gaze. She’d never seen anyone exude such confidence, such power, such self-assurance. He fairly took one’s breath.
Or at least he seemed to have seized hers because her lungs were apparently incapable of drawing in air. Her chest might have been hit with one of the sledgehammers that surely had been used to raze the buildings that had once stood here. She’d forgotten the impact of his presence, the way it could unnerve while at the same time providing comfort, offering a cocoon of protection while asking for nothing in return.
The hotel was grand because he was grand, because he had built it in his own image, because it was a reflection of a man who had risen above the rubble of his beginnings. The circumstances of his birth should have relegated him to the gutter, but without knowing his entire story, she knew he had clawed his way out to reign over all he surveyed. How could anyone not give him the respect he’d so rightfully earned?
“He gives the impression he’s holding court,” Kip said. “Like a king.”
More than a king. Kings would bow to him, willingly serve at his pleasure. He was lord of his domain and all that surrounded him. She couldn’t help but wonder at the satisfaction a woman might feel if she stood at his side. She would wield her own power, be someone to be reckoned with in her own right because he was the sort who required a partner of strength and influence equal to his own.
Had he lived a thousand years ago or even five hundred, he would have been a conqueror, one who toppled empires, not to enslave but to free.
Then he was striding toward them, cutting a swath through the crowd as easily as she sliced off a bit of butter for her bread. When he was near enough, he took her hand in his, lifted it to his lips, placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles, the heat from his mouth seeping through the kidskin and traveling through every inch of her. Inappropriate! screamed through her mind and yet she couldn’t seem to care.
“Lady Aslyn, I’m so glad you were able to join us.”
“I welcome the opportunity to wish you well with your business venture.” Did she have to sound as though she had raced into this room, with her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps? Even if she hadn’t known their destination until they were on their way, her words weren’t a lie. She did wish him well, wished him more success than any man had ever achieved.
Releasing his hold on her, he turned to Kip. “Lord Kipwick. I’m equally glad you saw yourself free to join us.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. I daresay it’ll be the talk of London on the morrow. You’ve outdone yourself here. It’s much grander than I expected.”
“I’ve always believed dreams should be larger than ourselves. May I show you around?”
“We couldn’t impose,” Aslyn said. “You have so many guests.”
“It would be no imposition, and I’m certain they won’t mind.”
Before she could accept his offer, she heard, “Lady Aslyn. Lord Kipwick. What a lovely surprise! Mick didn’t tell me he’d invited you.”
Kip bowed slightly, took Miss Trewlove’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, my lord. And lady.” She smiled softly at Aslyn. “Isn’t it luxurious? My brother comes across so rough sometimes that you wouldn’t think he could create something of such beauty.”
“The hotel is quite elegant,” Aslyn told Miss Trewlove, although the comment was really made for Mick Trewlove. She wanted him to know how impressed she was with his efforts, but a lady in her position didn’t fawn over a gentleman or his achievements.
“You should see what Tittlefitz has done with the grand salon,” Miss Trewlove added.
“Tittlefitz?” Aslyn asked.
“Mick’s secretary. He’s decorated it with so many flowers and garlands I doubt there is a single blossom left in any flower shop. I daresay there’s not a ballroom in all of London that can compare. I’ve been striving to talk my brothers into joining me there for a dance. But they act as though they’ll turn into toads if they escort a girl onto the dance floor.”
“They’ve not had the lessons you’ve had,” Mick Trewlove said.
“I suspect you dance like a dream, my lord,” she said, fairly ignoring her brother’s remark and giving Kip all of her attention.
He grinned. “I would not be so crass as to boast about my skills. What do you think, Aslyn?”
“I agree. You would not be so crass.” Mr. Trewlove grinned, and a strange fluttering took up residence in her stomach. She really should do nothing to encourage his smiles. They were devastating to a woman’s equilibrium.
Miss Trewlove’s tinkling laughter circled them. “Perhaps you’ll demonstrate your talents for me later, my lord.”
“I would be delighted.”
“And perhaps that will force my brothers into proving themselves.” Glancing over her shoulder, she motioned toward someone or someones.
Three gentlemen quickly joined their group. Two men were slightly similar in appearance. The third was a great hulk with black hair that hung down over one side of his face in a manner that seemed deliberate as though he sought to shield it.
“Lady Aslyn, Lord Kipwick, allow me the honor of introducing Aiden”—she touched the arm of a brown-haire
d man—“Finn”—who was blond—“and Ben.”
“Beast,” the dark-haired man said in curt deep voice. “People call me Beast.”
Yes, she could well imagine they did. None of them looked anything like Mick Trewlove. To be honest, she thought his appearance was nearer to Kip’s, but perhaps it was merely because his evening attire more closely resembled the earl’s than the plain jackets his brothers wore. Because they looked so disparate, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were all born on the wrong side of the blanket, if their mother was of such low moral character that she had consorted with an assortment of men. She was horrified by the thought, even more so by the realization it could very well be true. Little wonder the duchess had objections to her being in the company of those with no pedigree to their name.
“I say, Your Lordship,” Aiden began, “we’ve set up some card games in a small salon. My brothers and I were about to head in and test our luck. Care to join us?”
For some reason, his brow furrowed, a question in his eyes, Kip turned to Mick Trewlove as though seeking permission. “A few hands couldn’t hurt.”
“They might even help. Several investors have already made their way to the tables. Aiden can introduce you.”
“Jolly good.” Finally he looked at her. She didn’t miss the guilt wreathing his face. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, darling, if I left you in the company of the lovely Miss Trewlove?” She was surprised by the endearment. He didn’t usually use them. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t recall a single time when he had, yet this one had a possessive edge to it.
He leaned in, whispered, “I’m seeking to secure our future.”
She supposed he was referring to the opportunity to become acquainted with men of business. Although she did mind a tad that he was planning to go off without her, she wanted to do some exploring and doubted he’d be interested in looking at furnishings and wallpaper. “I’m sure I can entertain myself.” After all, he never stayed with her for any length of time at balls, although at those affairs she knew a good many of the people in attendance, could always find a lady or two with whom to gossip. Here, as she looked around, she realized her acquaintances were few. Two to be exact, not bothering to count the brothers to whom she’d just been introduced.
“I won’t be long, and when I’m done, I promise you each a dance.”
She watched as he walked off, chatting and laughing with the Trewlove brothers—except for Mick. She wasn’t surprised he remained behind since he was the host and had responsibilities that required his attention. Apparently he took them very seriously, but then a man with his success would not have achieved it if he were a slacker in any regard.
“Men and their wagering,” Miss Trewlove said, clearly irritated by the sudden abandonment. “My brothers will never get married if they are so quick to leave the company of women.” Her eyes widened. “And speaking of marriage, I understand congratulations are in order, Lady Aslyn. How lucky you are to have made such a fine catch.”
With Mr. Trewlove studying her, she suddenly felt uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, almost felt as though he didn’t approve of her betrothal. Which was ridiculous musings on her part, for why would he care? “Thank you, Miss Trewlove. I consider myself fortunate indeed.”
“We don’t need so much formality between us. At least not tonight. You must call me Fancy.”
“You must call me Aslyn.” Every time it seemed her breath was returning, a quick glance at Mick Trewlove snatched it away again. “Is your other sister about?”
“No, unfortunately, she declined my invitation,” he said, and she heard the true regret in his tone.
“Because she would have to wear a proper dress,” Fancy said.
“Does she not dress properly?” Aslyn asked.
“Her attire is somewhere between what a man and a gypsy might wear. It’s terribly unflattering. I’ve told Gillie a thousand times that with a bit of effort she could be beautiful. But she won’t have it.”
“She has her reasons,” he said.
“I suppose a beautiful tavern keeper would find naught but trouble.”
“She has a tavern?” Aslyn asked.
Fancy beamed. “In Whitechapel. Mick helped her acquire it, just as he’s going to assist me in gaining a bookshop.”
“Fancy—” His low gravelly voice should have been frightening. Instead Aslyn was intrigued, imagined it even lower, whispered in shadows.
“The little shop on the corner across the street would be perfect. The windows on two sides would allow in light—”
“A wall of windows means you can’t have a wall of books.”
“So you’ve been thinking about it?” She was smiling so brightly Aslyn was surprised she didn’t throw her arms around her brother’s neck with glee.
He sighed, and in the sound she heard his defeat, wondered if it was the first one he’d ever suffered. Yet, she found no fault with it, because she knew he was going to give his sister what she craved, and she envied Fancy for having a brother who didn’t let pride get in his way or dictate his actions. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“I do love you, you know. Oh, and there’s Tittlefitz. I must have a word with him regarding the champagne. If you’ll excuse me.”
And she was gone, leaving Aslyn alone with the enigmatic Mick Trewlove. Well, not completely alone. Many people were wandering about, but she didn’t see anyone she recognized. Although surely she and Kip weren’t the only nobles here. She’d probably find some ladies she knew in the ballroom. She should make her excuses—
“You look beautiful tonight.”
She was ashamed to admit she’d have selected a more revealing gown had she known this was her destination, grateful she’d worn the pearl necklace that flattered the slender column of her throat. The pearl and diamond comb nestled in her upswept hair always gave her confidence. “Do I not always?”
“You know you do.”
She released a self-conscious laugh. “Actually I don’t. I have a funnily shaped nose. Tips up on the end most unattractively. My cousin who inherited my father’s title once told me I reminded him of a pig. Of course, he was only nine at the time, two years older than I, but still. I don’t know why, but as though I needed to prove his point, I began snorting and grunting as though I were wallowing in pig slop.”
“I’m certain whatever sounds you made only endeared you to him.”
“Oh, I seriously doubt it. I’ve not seen him since my parents’ funeral. We were never close. Just as well, I suppose.” She glanced around. “Is your mother about?”
“No. Like Gillie, she wouldn’t be comfortable in such exquisite surroundings, wouldn’t feel as though she belonged—no matter how much I assure her otherwise.”
“The Duchess of Hedley, my guardian, is the same. I’ve never known her to attend so much as an afternoon tea away from her own residence. I find it sad, and yet she seems content enough. It’s a shame your mother can’t see all this.”
“I’ve given her a private tour. Would you care for one?”
He was being rude to his other guests. He knew that and he didn’t care. He’d set up the card room with the hope Kipwick would abandon his fiancée, leaving Mick with free rein to see to her needs, needs she probably didn’t even realize she had. Any and all needs he would satisfy, willingly, eagerly. She had but to ask. She didn’t even need to use her voice. Her eyes, a crook of her finger, a blush. But at the moment, she gave him none of those.
In her expression, he could see the impropriety of his request had her mind spinning. At least she hadn’t declined outright, which meant she was considering it. As a footman walked past, he reached out and grabbed two flutes of champagne, handed her one, watched as she sipped delicately, imagined her sipping at his mouth in the same manner. He was not a novice when it came to women, but no other had caused his head to spin with
so many inappropriate thoughts. Yet it wasn’t lust that drove him. It was something he didn’t understand, seemed unable to comprehend in any meaningful manner.
“How private?” she finally asked.
“Only as private as you’re comfortable with. Why don’t we start by going up the stairs so you can look out over the balcony? The view is better.”
Glancing up, she nodded. He offered his arm. She laid her fingers on his forearm, and his groin tightened with her light touch. Good God, he’d probably double over if she touched him with any real purpose. He acknowledged a few people he passed: a baker, a dressmaker, a milliner, all of whom would be tenants in his shops. He’d extended invitations to several in the nobility but fewer than half a dozen, not counting Kipwick and Lady Aslyn, had made an appearance. The ones who had were young bucks with no reputation to worry over. For the others, he was good enough to invest with but not to socialize with. Always the stigma of his birth haunted him.
“This hotel suits you,” she said quietly. “It’s strong and bold, masculine and yet warm and welcoming. A lady would feel comfortable here.”
“I hope so. I need those of the feminine persuasion to visit my tearoom.”
She smiled at him. “You have a tearoom?”
“Fancy insisted. Then we have an area for the gents with billiards and spirits. My brothers were responsible for that.”
“I think it’s wonderful that you welcome their opinions.”
“They’re going to offer them whether or not I welcome them.”
“It must be marvelous to have so many siblings. Kip and I would have each grown up alone if my parents hadn’t died.”
“How did they die?” he asked.
“Railway accident. Horrendous thing. Twenty-seven souls lost. I wasn’t the only child of a nobleman to be orphaned that night. I’ve yet to take a journey by railway. Can’t bring myself to do it. Even riding in a carriage makes me nervous. I’d rather walk where I am in control of my legs or ride a horse where I am in control of the reins. I suppose that makes me a bit of a coward.”
Beyond Scandal and Desire Page 10