“I have never known you to unfairly judge a woman you do not know. She was in a difficult position before I found her.”
Victoria spun around, one eyebrow quirked. “She is not so hard on her luck as you would have me believe.”
“While her past might be less complicated than yours, it was just as difficult for her to escape.”
He knew Amelia was hiding something from her past—the name she’d given him was false. In fact, she’d done such a fine job of hiding her true identity that he hadn’t yet figured out just who she was or where she’d come from. He knew she was from Berwick, and it would be easy enough to inquire about Amelia that way, but he couldn’t, in the event that she was running from someone she’d left behind.
Victoria stepped closer, stretching one dainty finger toward his chin. “And what if I am jealous?” she asked, with a pout playing on her red painted lips.
“We did not end our affair so that we could play cat-and-mouse in future.”
“Then stop trying to cut me out of your life.”
That hadn’t been his intention, but Victoria could think what she liked. Amelia was his only concern. “Miss Grant is complicated,” he admitted.
“Oh, I can see that. You haven’t taken your eyes off her all evening.” He looked at her sharply, and she spread her hands as though she were blameless. “I’m not the only one to take notice.”
“I don’t want you taking anything out of context, Victoria. If I start hearing rumors . . . ”
“Tsk. Darling. You have obviously forgotten the woman I am. Discretion is my middle name.”
“Perfect. Then I trust you to have a wardrobe prepared for my new secretary. I’m afraid she has nothing suitable for the meetings she will be required to attend in the coming weeks.”
Victoria raised her eyebrow. “From which of my shop girls did you order the blush gown?”
“Darcy.”
“Then I shall ensure that discretion is met and your new secretary is appropriately attired.”
Nick nodded his thanks. “Keep your assumptions to yourself.”
“It’s not me you should worry about, Nicky. You men think you’re so devious and sly, when you are all an open book. Everyone at that table saw your intentions, clear as day.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re among friends. I mean it, Victoria. I do not want you asking about Amelia either.”
“Amelia, is it? Already on a first-name basis? You do move fast, or were you already hot on her tail before you broke off our arrangement?” She traced one of her painted nails over his lower lip. “Don’t worry, Nicky. I will keep your secrets. I always have.”
She had, but if what Victoria said was true—that he’d been obvious in his attention toward Amelia—he’d have to be more circumspect. If there was one thing Nick had managed to accomplish, in addition to his wealth, it was an equal measure of enemies. Amelia was too gentle a soul to ward off some of the uglier parts of his life.
“Everyone certainly must be wondering where we are,” Victoria pointed out.
“Then we should not keep them waiting.”
He vowed to ignore Amelia for the rest of their dinner. If he could convince his friends that Amelia was only his secretary, then that was what the rest of the world would believe. Only he needed to know that she was so much more.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Amelia wasn’t sure where Mr. Riley and Miss Newgate had gone off to, but her stomach flipped at the idea of their needing a moment of privacy. She’d taken one spoonful of her lemon sorbet before giving up—her appetite was gone, ruined really.
Heddie, her dining companion, proved to be an interesting and entertaining woman. Perhaps that was natural for someone in her profession. Though Heddie was guarded about personal details of her life, she did share a number of humorous stories from her time in theatre.
“There was a time during Midsummer’s Night Dream when the stage was large enough to accommodate a horse. Well, that horse found himself particularly full from all the apples and carrots we fed him off stage. Relieved himself right in the middle of the show and kicked his foot out. The actor on stage with me got a horse mud pie right in the face.”
Lord Murray couldn’t seem to contain his mirth, for he laughed and snorted at the end of her tale. Taking a long swallow of his champagne the wrong way, he sputtered and coughed enough to draw the eyes of everyone around them in the restaurant. Heddie gave her companion a few good thumps on the back until he stopped hacking.
While everyone was laughing at the story, Amelia grew sicker to her stomach as the minutes ticked by and Mr. Riley had yet to return to the table.
“Had I met you before my wife, Heddie, I’d be a man in trouble,” Lord Murray insisted.
“I wouldn’t let you steal me away from the city and all that I love to be sealed up in that dratted old castle you call a home in Highgate.”
At the mention of Highgate, Amelia snapped to attention. “A castle?” she said inquisitively.
“She exaggerates, Miss Grant. It’s just a drafty old house.”
Did Mr. Riley intend to purchase Lord Murray’s drafty old house? Before she could ask more about Highgate, Mr. Riley and Miss Newgate entered from the opposite end of the room.
She was a beautiful woman, shorter than Amelia but voluptuous, and her corseted-waist was cinched to perfection. Her hair looked like spun gold, and her dress looked like it had been dipped in the precious metal. It was obvious that Victoria Newgate was a woman with a great deal of wealth.
Men turned when she walked past them. Mr. Riley seemed entranced by her conversation and laughed about whatever it was they discussed.
Why should it matter to Amelia how Mr. Riley acted around the other woman? She was forgetting her position. Something she shouldn’t dare do. She looked away from them so they wouldn’t see her staring, and she focused on the other guests at the table.
Mr. Riley took his seat, his elbow brushing against Amelia’s as he placed his napkin in his lap. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he took a spoonful of his sorbet.
She didn’t respond, just gave a slight smile as she looked at the woman sitting across from her. When their eyes met, Victoria gave her a wink and laughed about something Lady Burley had whispered. Amelia dropped her gaze to her bowl. She was so far out of her element right now that she just wanted the night to end.
Coffee was served around the table after the last setting was taken away. When Amelia brought the small white cup to her nose, she was immediately repelled by the strong smell and set the cup down untouched.
“It’s bitter and perhaps an acquired taste,” Mr. Riley said, sliding the glass tray of sugar cubes closer to her cup. “This will sweeten it.”
“I’m not sure anything will make that smell pleasant enough to drink,” Amelia said.
Mr. Riley dropped a sugar cube in her cup and stirred it around with a spoon. “Try it,” he insisted.
She looked at him, forgetting once again that there were other people at the table. “Can I trust you, Mr. Riley?” She wasn’t asking about the coffee; she was looking at Miss Newgate across the table.
“Implicitly.”
Placing her lips against the cup, she took a small sip of the liquid and was immediately repelled by the stringent assault on her tongue. She set it down. “I’m afraid I likely will not acquire a liking for coffee anytime soon.” She pushed the cup away so she wouldn’t have to smell it.
Hart chuckled and said, “Before long, you will crave it after dinner. I used to hate the stuff.”
“Then why did you continue to drink it?” Heddie asked, sipping her own coffee.
“Sometimes coffee was the only decent drink available when I traveled,” Hart said.
“Where did you travel?” Amelia asked, genuinely curious. The idea of traveling had always fascinated her, but she wasn’t sure how one went about planning a trip.
“Egypt and Morocco, mainly,” Hart said with a shrug, as though everyone traveled
to exotic locations.
“He’s being modest, darling,” Victoria said to Amelia. “Those were only his favorite places. Hart is a bit of a travel bug. Every few years he practically itches to see something new and disappears for months at a time. When he remembers he has friends back home, we receive a letter from some far-off locale.”
Victoria had perfect teeth and a perfect smile. Amelia couldn’t help but compare herself to this woman who so easily drew Mr. Riley’s attention. Was it possible they were still lovers, even though the Jenny had said otherwise? She hated that she wanted to know the answer so badly.
“Well,” Lady Burley said, directing her words to Amelia, “if it’s any consolation, I have never been outside of Britain.”
Amelia liked Lady Burley very much. Where Victoria had managed to say everything in a lofty air that seemed like an insult, the other woman merely brushed it off, as if there was nothing overly spectacular about the exotic locations Hart had visited.
“I used to visit an aunt in Scotland, but I have not been farther north than that,” Amelia chimed in with a smile. She could say that she’d at least been somewhere else.
“Whereabouts? My mum was Scots,” Heddie said.
“Edinburgh.” Amelia was surprised to have Mr. Riley’s complete attention. He looked at her as if his knowing something she rarely talked about made a difference to him. “But my aunt died when I was twelve, and we didn’t have any family left that way, so I haven’t visited after that. What about you, Mr. Riley? Have you traveled the world far and wide?”
“Never had a desire to travel. My life and my businesses are all on English soil.”
“Because you haven’t thought of the possibilities elsewhere,” Hart said with laughter in his voice, as though this was a topic they discussed regularly.
“We are in very different businesses, my friend,” Mr. Riley said with a finality that ended the conversation.
To Amelia’s surprise, Mr. Riley stood to wish everyone a good night. It seemed they had another engagement, as did some of the others.
“It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Grant,” Lord Burley said.
“You and your wife were wonderful company for my first dinner out,” Amelia responded.
When she said good night to Victoria, the woman kissed both her cheeks and then held Amelia at arm’s length to look at her. Was she assessing her? Looking for flaws? Amelia felt her cheeks grow warm under the other woman’s regard. “You will keep him in good order?” Victoria asked.
Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but how was she to reply to that? Her job was, in a sense, to keep Mr. Riley in order.
“Vic,” Mr. Riley interjected, “always inserting yourself in my affairs. Miss Grant, you must ignore my friend. She knows how disorganized I can be and cannot tolerate any sort of chaos.”
“Yes, well . . . ” Victoria started to say, but Mr. Riley kissed her cheek, and he and Amelia left in the next instant, having concluded their good-byes.
“I feel I should apologize for her forwardness,” Mr. Riley said as he and Amelia made their way out into the street.
“She seems very brazen. I dare say, I have not met any other woman like her.”
“That almost sounds like a compliment, Miss Grant.”
Mr. Riley hailed a cab and opened the low door for her. She stepped inside and took a seat on the bench, and Mr. Riley gave direction to the driver before following her inside.
“Are we not finished with the evening?” she asked. She thought he might drop her off at the house while he attended to his other engagements.
“Far from, my dear. We’re dressed, so we might as well enjoy a night around the city.”
“Will your friends be joining us?”
He shook his head, that intense gaze of his focused fully on her again. She swallowed back any further questions. She wouldn’t refuse him the night; this might be her only opportunity to wander around London and explore the places frequented by men and women of means.
Before long, the driver pulled up to a two-story brick building with no sign to identify it.
As Mr. Riley assisted Amelia out of the carriage, he flicked the driver a coin and said, “Double that and your usual fare for the night if you wait until we are through here.”
“I will wait right here, good sir,” the driver said.
Mr. Riley took Amelia’s elbow and led her to a small café. It was stuffed to the brim with patrons, half of them shouting and singing along with the piano player in the background, the rest gaily milling about.
She wasn’t sure what type of music played but the patrons enjoyed it enough to raise their ale and sing along in boisterous volume. Some patrons danced on a small section of the floor that had been cleared for that purpose. Both she and Mr. Riley were jostled as they made their way to the center of the loud room. When she was pushed into Mr. Riley’s side, he put his arm around her to shield her from the rowdy crowd and continued to pull them forward.
“You should use your cane to clear your path if the louts will not move for a lady,” Mr. Riley said clearly, without having to shout over the noise.
“I couldn’t,” she mumbled, doubting he even heard her.
A polished mahogany bar stood dead center in the room. It curved along the top edge and bowed out in the middle to accommodate shelving behind. Various bottles of liquor and wine filled the shelves, as did an array of different glasses. Beveled mirrors were mounted on the back wall behind the bar, making the room look grander than it was. Leather-cushioned stools lined along the bar like soldiers standing guard, every one of them occupied by men and women mingling together. There were large water fountains at both ends of the bar, filled to the top with ice.
Mr. Riley placed an order and then took Amelia’s hand and led her to a booth with a round table in the middle; it might have seated four comfortably, but there were six people seated there. One of the men at the table saw Mr. Riley and motioned for the others to vacate the booth. No words passed between the men, but the two heavily painted women gave Amelia a knowing look before the men led them away.
Amelia was fairly certain they were prostitutes, but she didn’t say a word. Instead of sliding into a seat across from her, Mr. Riley sat next to her, his shoulder so close to touching hers that she could feel the heat radiating off him. That she wanted to sink into his warmth in front of a room full of patrons was a thought she’d dissect much later.
“What is this place?” she asked, though the question sounded better in her head. She knew it was a tavern, but she’d never been to one, other than the Hound & Hare in Berwick, and that was a good deal less lively than this place.
“People come here for the atmosphere. You can escape the day and enjoy yourself with a drink. They also sell the best glass of absinthe this side of London.”
Before she could ask more, a barkeeper approached their table. He held a tray laden with a glass, a small pitcher of yellowish-green liquid, and a tumbler filled halfway with what looked like whisky. A smaller fountain of water with ice, like the one on the edge of the bar, was carried in behind the barkeeper and set on the round table in front of them.
Mr. Riley nodded his thanks to the man, and they were left alone again.
“Why did you bring me here?” Amelia asked.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself at Langtry’s, and I thought you would like it here. Besides, I was not ready to end our night with dinner.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that because she hadn’t wanted their night to end either. Instead of responding to his candor, she watched him set up the odd-colored drink.
He filled one glass with the peridot-colored liquid, setting an odd-looking perforated spoon over the rim and placing a sugar cube in the middle. She knew it was absinthe, but she’d never before had it or seen it prepared. It was a fascinating process. When that was done, he set it under the spout of the fountain. The nozzle was loosened enough to let out only a few drops of water to wet the sugar cube.
> Closing off the flow of water, he looked at her as though waiting for her next question.
“Why did you invite me to dinner tonight? I wasn’t needed in the capacity of secretary.”
“Correct, you were not needed in that capacity,” he agreed, but did not elaborate. “I admit that I wanted to see you lose a little of the reserve you cloak yourself in whenever we’re together.”
Not all the time, she thought. There had been too many slip-ups with this man, too many instances where she’d forgotten who she was, who she was trying to be—what she’d been trying to escape.
How she wished her father were still alive. Her whole life would be different. The things that had happened . . . the things her brother had done since their father’s passing . . .
She closed her eyes for only a moment, and Mr. Riley twisted the nozzle again to release the water until it was more than a drip. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him focused on the drink he was preparing. She stared at him for a moment, fascinated by the firm set of his jaw, the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, and his overall bearing. He was a man who stood out.
When the liquid in the glass started to cloud, Mr. Riley turned off the water again. Sliding the glass toward her, he tipped what was left of the sugar in the glass and stirred it into the drink.
She wondered if he saw the hunger in her eyes that said just how much she desired this man.
“The cloud is called the louche,” he explained, though she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his eyes. “It is from the oils in the alcohol blending with the water. The color also tells you when it’s the right consistency for taste.”
Removing the spoon, he pushed the glass back toward her.
“Try it. See if you like it.”
For some reason, she didn’t think he was talking about the drink.
She picked the glass up tentatively, not sure what she would think, but the smell that reached her nose was surprisingly more pleasant than she had anticipated—like black licorice and anise-seed cake served on special occasions.
Desire Me Now Page 11