The captain part probably explained that air of implacable, insufferable authority. As though he moved through the world with ease in part because he knew destiny wouldn’t dare countermand his orders.
“What brings you back to The Grand Palace on the Thames, Captain Hardy?”
His small, intimate smile removed the bones from her knees.
“So you do remember me, Lady Derring.”
She ignored the smile and remembered that her blood was blue, even if keys jingled at her hips now.
“My maid, Dorothy, informs me that you are seeking a room to let, Captain Hardy. Would you care to have a seat to discuss it?” She gestured at the settee.
“There’s to be a discussion? I thought these sorts of things were usually dispensed with a yes or a no.”
He said it almost lightly. But he sat down. Immediately his presence elevated the settee, with its small burn carefully patched and the nick in one of its legs, to something like a throne.
“We like to be certain all of our treasured guests are comfortable here and that new guests are a proper fit and willing to abide by the rules, so we ask a few questions.”
“Treasured, are they?” he said smoothly. “I’ve long aspired to be treasured.”
“All guests who pay their bills, follow the rules, and do not disrupt the other guests are indeed treasured.”
He regarded her with those eyes which were all that was polite and yet she couldn’t shake the sensation that he could see right through her dress to her stays.
“There are rules?” he said with idle interest.
“Indeed. It’s hardly anarchy here at The Grand Palace on the Thames.”
“And how much does it cost to be treasured?”
“Twelve pounds per week.”
She decided this was his rate, no matter whether he took a small or a large room. The two extra pounds were a surcharge for arrogance.
“And what benefits do your guests receive in exchange for their princely twelve pounds?”
“Two truly fine meals a day, a libation in the morning or evening brought to your room if you should request one, a warm, tidy room, and mending of smaller items. For a small additional fee, we will engage a laundress if you need one, and we will bring a bath up to your room no more than once per week. We feel, all in all, it is a splendid value.”
“And of course the occasional musicale. One can’t put a price on that.”
“I’m so glad you agree.”
He smiled with vanishing swiftness, as though she’d said something charming.
She couldn’t imagine what.
“And guests with money to burn flock to your establishment, do they, Lady Derring? I could scarcely move through your foyer without brushing against a skirt or a greatcoat.”
Her breath caught. Why, the basta . . . !
It took her a moment to recover.
“Naturally our guests do not mill about the foyer, Captain. From this location our guests can go about their employment or enjoy all that London has to offer, such as . . . the theater.”
“Is the theater a euphemism for brothels?”
In the silence that followed, the fire gave a violent pop, as if in indignation.
Neither one of them blinked.
Well.
No man had ever said the word brothel to her in her twenty-six years of life—that, at least, was one of the advantages of being a countess. It just didn’t come up in polite conversation.
Captain Hardy was either trying to disconcert her, or he was trying to find out whether she indeed was running a brothel. To what end, she could not have guessed.
Still, it was only a word. And she was hardly a fragile flower. Flaming cheeks notwithstanding.
“I’m afraid I can’t provide you with a list of brothels, Captain,” she decided to say carefully. “If that’s your aim, and you’re attempting to speak in code. We aren’t that kind of establishment. Perhaps you ought to seek a different boardinghouse? Or are you in an indirect way attempting to ascertain the quality of our clientele?”
And damned if Tristan didn’t admire her response.
“It’s just that to get to all the other things that London has to offer, your guests must navigate a gauntlet of what Lovell Street near the docks has to offer, including robbery, pub brawls, and the occasional murder. It’s an unusual location for an exclusive boardinghouse with rules regarding propriety.”
She didn’t even blink. Up close, Lady Derring’s eyes were as velvety and alluring as a settee in an opium den. Yet he would warrant she’d just inventoried his eyelashes.
“Isn’t it lovely that The Grand Palace on the Thames is an oasis of comfort and safety in the midst of a chaotic world?”
That was deft, he’d hand that much to her.
“By the way, how did you come to open a boardinghouse?”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I am lately a widow, Captain Hardy—”
“My condolences.”
She acknowledged this with the rote nod it deserved. “—and it seemed to my business partner, Mrs. Angelique Breedlove, and me the perfect opportunity to meet people from all walks of life.” She sounded proud.
“Ah.” He took pains to sound faintly puzzled. “I was curious. I’ve heard your establishment referred to as The Palace of Rogues. A place for rogues, one would assume.”
She went still. Then a hurt that seemed genuine flickered across her features.
He knew a startling—a rogue, even—and tearing sense of regret that he may have been the source of it.
“Scurrilous,” she maintained stoutly. “That’s what that assertion is, if that’s what you heard. If you hear it again, I should be obliged if you’d correct them and tell them it’s a fine establishment, as you can see for yourself. I’m sorry if this disappoints you.”
“I’ll do that,” he said gently. “And it hardly smells of mildew at all, which is a remarkable feat for a building so close to the docks.”
She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.
“Are you attempting to negotiate the price of your room, sir?”
“That depends. To my original question: Have you a room to let, Lady Derring?”
Intriguingly, she paused.
“Based on our discussion, I do wonder if this is the sort of place you’d feel at ease, Captain. And our prices are not negotiable. We feel our guests are given great value for their money.”
“Ease,” he repeated thoughtfully, after a moment. As if it were a word only plebeians found use for.
She seemed to take this as an invitation to tip her head and study him critically with those soft eyes.
He could feel the jagged old glacier of his heart creak as if exposed to a violent sunbeam.
He thought perhaps he should look away.
And then he thought: what a waste of a moment it would be, if I should look away when I could be looking at her.
A pretty woman can get a man to do anything, Massey had said to him.
But he was a man willing to do just about anything to get his man.
Easier still if the man he needed to get was instead a woman.
He lowered his voice to one of confiding sympathy. “Would you like to inspect beneath my chin, Lady Derring? I might have missed a hair or two whilst shaving, though I’m not inclined to miss any detail at all. About anything. Ever.”
A little silence.
“It’s difficult to shave the day after a liquor-soaked evening, I should imagine,” she said smoothly.
She was very, very good.
“While I’ll allow that this is true, that wasn’t the circumstance this morning, nor will it be during my stay here at the Ro—”
“Grand Palace on the Thames.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Very well, then. Now that I know a bit more about what sort of establishment this is—and it does sound like a fine establishment—would you mind telling me a bit more about the rules?”
She looked relieved. “They’re very simple, really
. We expect our male guests to behave like gentlemen in the presence of ladies. Drinking, spitting, or smoking will not be tolerated in the drawing room when ladies are present, and rough language will be fined one pence per word. We’ve a jar, you see.”
“A jar.” He said this with every evidence of fascination.
“But we also have a withdrawing room for gentlemen, in which they can unleash their baser impulses in case the effort of restraint becomes too much to bear.”
Lady Derring was very dry.
“What a relief to hear. Tethering instincts wears a devil out.”
He was rewarded with a smile, one of delightful, slow, crooked affairs, as if she just couldn’t help herself, and he, for a moment, could not have formed words for admiring it.
“Suitable guests don’t find the rules a challenge at all, and if you’re of sound character, you’ve scarcely need to try to behave. You will simply enjoy the camaraderie of our drawing room evenings.”
“I assure you my character is both sound and unassailable.”
“Apart, perhaps, from a slight issue with modesty?”
Perhaps an example of the “more sting than fuzz” the solicitor had mentioned.
Odd. He found it rather bracing.
“Do you keep a jar for braggarts? Perhaps you ought to have a jar for every sin or character flaw. Gluttony. Loquaciousness. Untoward musical tendencies.”
“If you feel it would be helpful in terms of modifying any of your impulses, we’ll certainly consider implementing a system of jars. We don’t anticipate a wide variety of sin, here at The Grand Palace on the Thames. Nor, by the way, do we encourage the indiscriminate inviting of guests to one’s rooms.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Very good, very good. I do wonder how you manage to keep your establishment so apparently civilized and comfortable, Lady Derring. It must require significant expenditure and loyal staff. Who like to be paid, I imagine. As well as a steady supply of guests. And yet it is so wondrously quiet here.”
Another slightest pause, during which she studied him as if he were a mysterious corridor and she was deciding which door she ought to open.
“It’s simple, Captain Hardy. We do not let our rooms to uncivilized people, and should our judgment prove in error, we request that they leave. They will find their belongings neatly packed and placed by the front door.”
Notably, she didn’t take up the issue of expenditure.
“St. Peter has less rigorous standards.”
“He’d do well to follow our example.”
“Why, that’s very nearly heretical, Lady Derring.”
“What a shame it would be if heresy deterred you from taking a room at The Grand Palace on the Thames, Captain Hardy. May I ask, why do you find you have need of a room here?”
“I’m in the process of purchasing a ship which will make merchant runs to China and India, and as this establishment is nearest the harbor, I feel it will be a convenient place from which to conduct my business.”
It wasn’t untrue.
“And then you’ll sail away for good?”
Her tone was interesting. It straddled something between hope and regret. With just a dash of yearning. For what? Sailing to faraway places? For him to leave?
“I shall certainly be away from English soil for great swaths of time, yes. One can only be shot at so many times, you see, before retiring begins to make sense.”
She regarded him with those eyes and he could have sworn something like grave concern flickered there. “Where is your home?”
“Due to the nature of my work, I haven’t a permanent home.” Oddly, he felt as though he were confessing a flaw to her.
She blinked. Then took a breath, as though she intended to say something, then changed her mind. “Well. Our intent is to welcome a variety of people here and to make all of them feel as though it is home. We feel it makes life more pleasurable and interesting.”
She stood and moved to a little table upon which sat a stack of cards. She was small and graceful and there was an elemental pleasure in simply watching her move.
She handed one of the cards to him.
All guests will eat dinner together at least four times per week.
All guests must gather in the drawing room after dinner for at least an hour at least four times per week. We feel it fosters a sense of friendship and the warm, familial, congenial atmosphere we strive to create here at The Grand Palace on the Thames.
All guests should be quietly respectful and courteous of other guests at all times, though spirited discourse is welcome.
Guests may entertain other guests in the drawing room.
Curfew is at 11:00 p.m. The front door will be securely locked then. You will need to wait until morning to be admitted if you miss curfew.
If the proprietresses collectively decide that a transgression or series of transgressions warrants your eviction from The Grand Palace on the Thames, you will find your belongings neatly packed and placed near the front door. You will not be refunded the balance of your rent.
“Curfew?” He was bemused.
“Is there a gaming hell that will miss your presence after eleven o’clock, Captain Hardy? We feel our guests will be more comfortable if they can be assured of who is coming and going.”
This actually made very good sense.
“No, no. I was just admiring it. Rules. Regimentation. Perhaps you ought to have considered the military, Lady Derring.”
“I assume you mean to flatter me, Captain Hardy, given that was the choice you made for yourself. If only my options had been quite so diverse. Would you like to take a moment to reassure yourself that you can abide by the rules?”
“If there’s anything at all I’ve learned in the navy, it’s to abide by rules . . . and to enforce them. My nature isn’t anarchic. It is, however, indomitable.”
She regarded him with a certain quizzical sympathy. “We might be able to pay for an additional maid with the contents of your braggart jar.”
He gave her a little smile. And then he reached into his coat, and from his wallet he laid down twelve one-pound notes. One at a time. As if placing a wager.
She eyed them, a flare of undeniable hunger in her eyes, quickly disguised.
It wasn’t greed, he’d warrant. It was need.
Interesting.
“I should like your largest, most comfortable suite of rooms, please.”
“I fear we’ve already let Suite Three, which is our largest. We’ve also let the next largest, Captain Hardy. But all of our rooms are comfortable and I’m sure you’ll not want for a thing.”
“I shall be content in whatever room you choose.”
“We shall make certain you are. And you’ll have a chance to meet your fellow guests this evening.”
To Tristan, it sounded like both a promise and a warning.
“Insufferable,” was how she described him to Angelique when they were in the kitchen discussing the menu for the week with Helga, who had triumphantly returned with a cut of beef that pleased her. “Naval captain. Well-spoken. Thinks very highly of himself. I could see myself in his buttons and boot toes. Not a speck of lint on his coat. Also, this man is very tall.”
They were all wistful about the word tall. All the window cleaning and trimming of the candles in sconces made them covetous of long legs and arms.
A few hours later, Angelique met Captain Hardy in the reception room just before he left for a previous dinner engagement. He was charming and brief and then was out of the door in a flash.
She stared at the door after he departed.
Then turned toward Delilah abruptly.
Delilah was studying the urn full of flowers as if it had suddenly become fascinating, and pretended not to notice that Angelique was staring at her.
“Funny,” Angelique said finally. “I pictured a bluff, red-faced, gray-haired sea dog. Find it very interesting that you didn’t mention that Captain Hardy is, shall we say . . . compelling.”
There it was. It was absolutely the perfect word for him. Equal parts enigmatic and magnetic. But it didn’t encompass the temperature changes she experienced in his company.
“Did you find him so?” she said idly.
But Angelique’s incredulous stare threatened to singe a hole in her forehead.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Delilah. He is gorgeous.” It didn’t sound like a compliment. It sounded like a warning.
She looked up at Angelique finally and bit her lip, almost apologetically. “If you like that sort of thing.”
Angelique sighed. “There’s something about him,” she said thoughtfully, after a moment. “I cannot shake the sense that we’ve let a room in the henhouse to the fox, though I can’t for certain say why. I don’t think Captain Hardy is the sort who does anything without a reason. Which makes me wonder why he’s here, at The Grand Palace on the Thames.”
A tiny part of Delilah, where her vanity lived, longed to believe that Captain Hardy had returned to The Grand Palace on the Thames because he’d hoped to see her again. Beyond this sop to her vanity she didn’t want to think. The male of the species was not to be trusted in the way wild animals quite simply could not be trusted, even years after they’d been domesticated. One just didn’t know what they would get up to.
“Do you think his presence has to do with Mr., er, X and his employer?”
They both still felt ridiculous saying “Mr. X.”
“Well . . . I have no idea. But we are blameless, in that regard.”
“And we’ve Captain Hardy’s twelve pounds, anyway.”
“You charged him two additional pounds?”
“It was an arrogance surcharge.”
“So far our business is based on somewhat extorting two men. One for invisibility, one for arrogance,” Angelique mused.
“I cannot find it in my heart to regret that.”
This made both of them smile.
Chapter Nine
A mere two and a half hours later she and Angelique sat side by side in the reception room again.
“I don’t know what he is, but he’s quite nice,” was how Dot had described the newest potential guest when she’d raced up the stairs to fetch them. “And loud.”
Lady Derring Takes a Lover Page 9