One Naughty Night2

by Laurel McKee

  “I am quite well,” she answered shortly, and walked away down the street.

  Not real, not real, she told herself as Aidan fell back into step beside her. If only she could believe it.

  Aidan leaned against his carriage door and watched Lily as she hurried up the back stairs to her house. She wouldn’t let him leave her at the front door and walk her inside. She had insisted he drive her to the mews tucked behind the garden. And as he helped her down, he could swear she nervously scanned the windows to make sure no one was watching.

  What was she hiding?

  That hint of mystery, of intrigue, only made her more attractive to him. He had always loved a woman with secrets. It made it so much more fun to uncover them all, layer by layer.

  Especially when the secrets came in as pretty a package as Lily St. Claire Nichols.

  She paused by the door to glance back at him. She gave him a tentative smile, a little wave with her gloved hand. He barely had time to wave back before she whirled around and dashed into the house.

  Aidan grinned as he flexed his fingers and remembered the brush of her skin against his just there, the rainy-violet scent that seemed to linger on his hand. He was a man who liked women, enjoyed their company, and he had known a great many of them in his life. If anyone knew exactly how many, it would be a scandal. Yet he had never felt anything quite like the sensation that shot through his hand when Lily touched him. The hot awareness that jolted straight to his manhood.

  He glanced up at the windows, hoping for one more glimpse of her face, but the glass was blank. Aidan swung back up into the carriage and gathered the reins. Soon he was back on the crowded streets, turning toward his lodgings on Jermyn Street. But his thoughts were still on Lily St. Claire.

  Usually he knew all too easily how to woo a lady, could see as soon as they met what would lure her in. With Lily St. Claire, he was baffled, thrown off his game. She was like no other woman he had ever met.

  He drew up outside his lodging house and tossed the reins to a footman as he leaped to the ground. Soon enough he would get to see Lily again, when he went to her brother’s gambling club—two birds with one stone.

  And then he would start to slowly unravel the delicious mystery of Lily St. Claire.

  Chapter Four

  “I wish I could see the club when it opens. It’s so unfair.”

  Lily laughed at the wistful sound of her sister Isabel’s voice. She glanced at their reflection in the dressing table mirror as Issy lodged pins into Lily’s upswept hair. “It will be very dull. Just work.”

  “Of course it won’t be dull!” Isabel protested. “There will be music and dancing and handsome men. It will be fun, and I’m missing it as usual.”

  “You do have fun, Issy.” Lily reached for her pot of rouge and carefully smoothed swaths of pink over her pale cheeks as Isabel finished her hair.

  “I don’t. I work at the theater and then I go home to sit by the fire all evening while everyone else goes out. I’m almost eighteen! James gets to go out far more than I do,” Isabel said, referring to her twin brother.

  Lily laughed. “Eighteen is not old enough to spend the evening at a gambling club.”

  “As if I would be in any danger. Not with you and Dominic and Brendan there.”

  “Maybe next year.”

  Isabel gave a pout and snapped off three red roses from the bouquet on the table to wind them through Lily’s hair. “Everyone always says next year.”

  Lily smiled at her, studying Isabel’s loose fall of strawberry curls, her pretty oval face, the bright, angry glitter of her green eyes. Isabel was the baby of the St. Claire family, younger than James by a half hour, and they did rather shelter her too much. But Lily would never want sweet Issy to see what was really out there in the world beyond the circle of their family. She never wanted her to lose that shining innocence.

  “It will be all work tonight,” Lily said. “There will be time for fun when you go to the seaside next month. Aren’t you looking forward to your holiday?”

  “I do like the sea,” Isabel admitted. “But I’m tired of children’s holidays.” She put the finishing touches on Lily’s hair and smiled. “There, now, all done. What do you think?”

  Lily twisted her head to the side to examine the elaborate creation of curls and waves, entwined with ribbons and the red roses. “Amazing, Issy. You have quite transformed this little brown wren.”

  Isabel laughed. “Hairdressing is one of my many talents. But I only gilded your beauty.”

  “And you are also the sweetest sister in the world.” With her hair done and the kohl at her eyes and diamonds sparkling in her ears, she looked almost pretty.

  Would Aidan think so when he saw her? Would he appear tonight at all? She had made sure he received an invitation, but that didn’t mean he would come. It didn’t mean she hadn’t imagined the dark, intent look in his eyes when he helped her from the carriage. It had been many days since she saw him.

  She shook her head. She was being a fool, mooning over a handsome man like that. He was a Huntington, her family’s enemy, and a distraction she did not need. She had seen the way the women in the cafe looked at him. He could have any of them, pretty women who didn’t carry the weight of their dirty past around with them like iron shackles.

  Yet still she had taken the extra care with her appearance tonight. She had tried to cover up the nightmares and sleepless nights that had plagued her since she thought she saw him again.

  “I am a very good sister,” Isabel said with a laugh. “And don’t ever forget it. I will expect a full account of the evening tomorrow. Now, let’s get you into your gown. Which one did you decide on for tonight?”

  An hour later, Lily stood in the main salon of the Devil’s Fancy club, turning in a slow circle as she studied every detail. Soon, very soon, the doors would open, and their new venture would be open for business.

  Everything had to be perfect.

  She twitched the heavy draperies into place so they hung exactly straight and nudged a yellow-and-white-striped satin settee against the wall. The card tables were set up, lined with gilded French chairs also upholstered in yellow and white, and new paintings of cavorting cupids and pretty, plump-breasted goddesses hung on the silk-papered walls. Large arrangements of fresh flowers stood on marble stands, perfuming the air, and the soft amber glow of gaslight fell over everything. It all looked elegant, expensive, inviting.

  Now all it needed was a crowd of guests, all happy and merrymaking, in the mood to cheerfully lose all their money.

  Lily peeked into the dining room, where a lush buffet was laid out in all its tempting array and champagne fountains bubbled. In the ballroom, the orchestra tuned up in their alcove while the gleaming dance floor waited to be filled. Footmen were stationed at the doors, and the pretty girls who were to play banker stood at their faro tables. They all wore gleaming pink satin, soft, fluffy, and eye-catching.

  Lily smoothed her full skirts. Unlike the girls, she wore a quiet, lavender-blue silk gown trimmed with white lace on the small, off-the-shoulder sleeves, simple and respectable. She knew her job, which was to fade into the shadows and let the club shine as she kept an eye on everything. Dominic would charm everyone and make sure they all had fun. It was what he did best.

  She turned to watch Dominic and Brendan as they came into the room. Of course, everyone would be charmed by them—how could they not? Dominic so golden and laughing in his flamboyant, blue evening coat and striped cravat, Brendan dark and brooding in plain, stark black and white, the left side of his face crisscrossed with pale scars. Like her, Brendan took in every detail of the room, calculated every flaw, while Dominic clapped his hands. Her brothers were like the bright sun and the mysterious moon.

  “Lily!” Dominic called, and hurried across the room to kiss her cheek. “Everything looks beautiful. You have worked wonders, as usual. But why the frown?”

  Lily laughed and pulled away from him to smooth her gown one more time before
he could crumple it. “I’m only afraid no one will appear and our venture will fail before it begins. We’ve already spent our initial investment fund and then some….”

  Dominic shook his head and took her hands again to waltz her in wild circles around the salon, spinning her around and around until she couldn’t quit laughing. Even solemn Brendan chuckled at the sight of their dance.

  “Ridiculous!” Dominic shouted. “Everyone will be here. Haven’t we been making the rounds of London for weeks, advertising our wares?”

  “Ah, yes,” Lily said breathlessly. She held tight to Dominic’s shoulders as he spun her around. “Tearooms, assemblies, bookshops…”

  “Coffeehouses, gentlemen’s clubs, expensive brothels,” Brendan added. He caught her out of Dominic’s arms and swept her off her feet, swinging her in a circle.

  “The talk among the ton is of nothing else but the Devil’s Fancy now,” Dominic said. “Everyone is dying for a glimpse of this place!”

  “But after they have had that glimpse, will they come back?” Lily gasped. “Oh, do put me down, Brendan! You will ruin my hair, and Issy will kill you.”

  No sooner had Brendan set her back on her feet and she smoothed her hair than a carriage pulled up at their front steps, a fine equipage with a coronet emblazoned on its glossy black door. And Lily found it was silly to worry at all.

  The elegant rooms were quickly filled to the walls with noisy merrymakers, their laughter and bright chatter tangling and flowing above the rattle of the roulette wheel and the clink of coins, the sound of dance music. Every chair was filled, jewels flashing in the light, silks and satins glinting. The scent of expensive French perfumes and powders blended with the flower arrangements in a dizzying mélange.

  It made Lily’s head spin. She made her slow way through the rooms, accepting greetings and compliments from the patrons, making sure all went well with the dancing and with the gaming at the faro tables, ensuring that the buffet and the champagne were well stocked. Her brothers had vanished in the crowd, and everyone seemed to be having a grand time.

  Lily was finally able to find a corner for a moment and snapped open her fan to try and create a cooling breeze. Yes, things were going well indeed—but Aidan Huntington had not appeared.

  She took a glass of champagne from a footman’s tray and sipped at it as she scanned the salon again. It seemed even more crowded than just a few minutes ago, the laughter even louder and more reckless. She glimpsed Dominic standing at one of the faro tables, his arm around the waist of a red-haired lady in green taffeta. The woman whispered in his ear, and Dominic threw back his head and laughed.

  Lily smiled and drained the last of her champagne. At least everyone was having a good time.

  Then she glimpsed a group of newcomers in the doorway. She wasn’t at all sure there was room for anyone else, but she pasted her most welcoming smile on her lips and stepped out of her corner.

  Only to halt in her tracks when she realized who it was standing there. Aidan.

  She watched him take in the room around him. He wore plain, stylish evening clothes of black with touches of white, the only hint of color the sapphire pin at his cravat. His blue eyes were hooded, a half-smile on his face, and he gave away none of his thoughts or reactions as he looked around him. He seemed every inch the cool aristocrat.

  From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Dominic’s shoulders stiffen and saw him turn toward Brendan. Bloody hell, the last thing they needed here tonight was a St. Claire–Huntington fight! Not when business was going so well. Not when Aidan was here at last, after she had been trying not to think about him all evening.

  She snatched up two glasses of champagne from a tray and made her way through the crowd to his side.

  “Lord Aidan. Welcome to the Devil’s Fancy,” she said, smiling up at him as she held out one of the glasses. “I hope you have come here eager to enjoy yourself.”

  He turned to her, and his smile widened even as his eyes were still hooded and inscrutable, his thoughts hidden from her. He slid the glass from her hand, his bare fingers brushing over her kid glove. His other hand caught hers, turning it so he could raise it to his lips. His gaze met hers over their touch, and for an instant, Lily imagined his mouth lingering there, pressing to her vulnerable palm, the pounding pulse in her wrist. Tasting her…

  But he let go of her and gave her another flash of his dimpled smile. He took a long sip of the champagne, and she watched his strong throat shift above his cravat.

  “Mrs. Nichols,” he said. “I did come here eager to see you again. I’ve thought of you often since our meeting, and you are just as lovely as I remember.”

  Lily laughed and turned away from the close scrutiny of his otherworldly eyes to take a drink from her glass. The heat of the strong French champagne in her stomach gave her a shot of courage. She didn’t want to admit how his lightly flirtatious words affected her—even to herself. She knew men too well to give in to this.

  “And you are a charming flatterer, Lord Aidan,” she said. She glanced around the room but could not see where her brothers had gone. That wasn’t a good sign—she liked to know where they were at all times when a Huntington was around.

  “Only an honest man, Mrs. Nichols.” She felt the slide of his glance—the hot, bright blue of a summer sky—over her body, but he seemed to sense her tension. He examined the salon as he drank. “I have a cousin who is considering investing in this club.”

  Ah, business. Lily could easily talk business, even with Aidan Huntington’s lean, hard body pressed so close to her in the crowd. “Do you?”

  “Sir William Meredith.”

  “I know him.” William Meredith was a silly looby who often lost a great deal of money to her brothers at the gaming tables, but she wasn’t one to turn away investment funds. “Are you here to advise him on his investment, then?”

  “Oh, I would be the last person anyone would turn to for advice on that, Mrs. Nichols.”

  What would he give advice on? Charming women? Walking so easily into any room as if he owned it? Belonged there? She couldn’t help envying him that. She was never sure she belonged anywhere. “Well, as you can see, his investment would be a wise one. We seem to have a great success on our hands.” Lily caught a glimpse of blue from the corner of her eye and turned to see Dominic and his lady friend across the room.

  “Indeed you do,” he said, still with that inscrutable smile on his face. “But it is early yet.”

  “And fashion is fickle. Is that what you’re saying, Lord Aidan? That is true enough. But my family and I know how to adapt to fashion.” Some impulse made her brush her hand against his under the cover of a fold of her skirt. “We know what people want.”

  Aidan laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to ripple through her body. He turned his hand along hers, sliding his fingers over hers. “And how to give it to them?”

  Lily shrugged and moved away from him. She felt so strange tonight, not her careful, wary self. She handed their empty glasses to a footman and slid her hand into the crook of Aidan’s arm. “We all must live somehow, Lord Aidan. Come, let me show you our establishment. You’ll see what a fine investment it is.”

  She gave Dominic a hard, warning look, telling him silently to back off, not to ruin tonight. He spun around and disappeared with his redhead, and Lily led Aidan into the crowd. He went with her willingly enough, their bodies pressed together in the crush. She could feel the flex and strain of his muscles under her touch, his body so hard under the soft, expensive wool of his coat. If she turned her head, she could rest her forehead against his chest and the brocade of his waistcoat. She could inhale deeply of his clean scent, dark male skin and expensive cologne, starched linen and wool. She could wrap her arms around him…

  “You see we offer something for everyone,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Faro, roulette, loo, piquet, whist. And if one does not care for cards, there is supper, dancing. Quiet parlors for conversation.”

  He looked down at h
er, and she could feel the warm brush of his breath over her hair. “Quiet conversation, eh?”

  She glanced up at him. He no longer smiled, just watched her steadily, closely. As if he waited to see what she would do next.

  Somehow that quiet, steady waiting was more frightening than any aggressive threats.

  Lily shook her head. She suddenly felt too warm, almost faint. The crowd, so welcome because it was necessary to the success of the business, seemed to press in on her with all their perfumed heat. She had been drinking champagne on an empty stomach—that was all. It had nothing to do with the nearness of Aidan Huntington.

  She swayed, her head swirling, and his arm came around her waist.

  “Too much champagne,” she whispered.

  Aidan chuckled, and his arm tightened. “Perhaps we should find one of those quiet parlors for a moment.”

  That was the last thing she should be doing with him; Lily knew that very well. But the room swayed again, and his arm seemed to be all that held her steady. She nodded. “For a moment.”

  She led him out of the crowded salon, his arm still around her as they left the cacophony of the revelers behind, and silence slowly enfolded them. They made their way up a narrow flight of stairs to the third floor, their way lit by a few hissing wall sconces that flickered over the white walls.

  She could hear only their footsteps on the wooden risers and the rustle of her silk skirts and net petticoats. The soft sound of his breath. The silence was almost deafening after the roar of the party.

  The corridor at the top of the stairs was for storage and offices, not meant for public view. Lily led Aidan to the darkest end of the hall and slowly opened the last door there.

  It was her own private sanctuary, her office where she could be alone and attend to business without the constant interruptions she always found at home. No one was allowed here, not even her brothers. Yet here she was with Aidan.

  She ushered him in and lit a lamp on the desk as he leaned back against the door. The soft glow illuminated the old desk and shabby leather chair, the chaise piled high with pillows in the corner, the small fireplace. It also showed her books, on the shelves lining the walls, stacked on the floor, piled on the windowsill. Her treasures.