Page 5 of The Duke of Aces
“And?” Guernsey stared at him expectantly. “By Jove. The Duke of Avondale has decided to hunt for a wife this Season.”
His friend was half correct. Tom had decided to go on the hunt, but he had already identified who his prey, no, his intended, was going to be—Lady Isadora Malbury. “Aye. I believe I’m ready.” Declaring it out loud to another hadn’t helped the mounting tension in his chest. Lady Isadora was perfect.
He had deliberated and determined that there was no logical reason for the lady to reject a marriage of convenience if properly presented to her. Lady Isadora had a fondness for risk. He simply needed to devise a sound argument as to why she should take a chance and trust him. That a marriage of convenience was what she was looking for.
“Bah. A man is never truly ready.” Guernsey knocked back his drink. “No more talk. Let’s play more cards.”
Chapter Three
The familiar woodendoors of Wembly Hall were within sight. Isadora’s brows furrowed with each step she took, bringing her closer to the glorious location she had ventured to during the midnight hours over the course of the past two Seasons. Isadora scanned the building once more. It was nothing like the images she held in her memory. Wembly Hall appeared anything but majestic as the early rays of sunshine fell upon it. One of the many warnings Minerva touted every year floated through her mind—nothing and no one in Town is as exactly as they appear. Not that she ever doubted her sister’s wisdom, but Isadora was disheartened at this newfound perspective on the place that had acted as a refuge for her.
She turned and glanced back over her shoulder at her maid to make sure she was there. She needed to secure the lease of Wembly Hall for the Wicked Ladies. She raised her gloved hand and rapped on the oversized door. The hinge rattled as her knuckles hit the solid surface. Repairs were necessary to ensure the safety of members. A wave of nausea hit her. She’d never been responsible for anyone other than herself, and now it was she who would be held accountable should any harm come to any of the ladies or if they were ever discovered.
No one answered. Mayhap she was early. Her hand shook as she reached for the latch and slowly pushed open the door to peer inside.
The hall was empty.
Isadora stepped through the threshold and halted. Hands clutched in front of her, she told herself,I can do this.Even if my negotiating skills are not on par with Minerva’s, I should be able to manage the simple task of renewing the lease for the Wicked Ladies Salon.
“Are ye sure Mr. Wembly stated he wished to meet here?” her maid asked.
“Aye.” Isadora pushed back her hood and scanned the space, picturing the smiling faces of the members of the salon. With a full Season of monthly events to plan, she sighed as she noted the deteriorating floors and cobwebs occupying every corner. She had her work cut out for her if she was to get this place ready in time for the first event. “What do you think of commencing the Season with a masquerade ball?”
“Isn’t the masquerade usually scheduled as the finale for the Season?”
“It is, but I want the opening event to set the tone for the ladies.” Isadora spun around in a circle and continued, “I want it to be a Season of daring, for this may very well be my last if Minerva has her way.” The hem of her cape caught on a nail, halting her movement and returning Isadora’s thoughts back to reality and the task at hand.
“Not if ye find yerself an understanding gentleman,” Annie replied.
Isadora tugged the material free and sighed. “It is highly doubtful I shall attract the attention of someone as understanding as the Earl of Sutherland, who waited ’til the very end of the Season to become engaged to Katherine. The man even funded the second half of last Season’s events, all because he wanted his intended to be happy.” With a shake of her head, she continued, “The odds of finding another gentleman as kind and generous as Lord Sutherland are like finding a four-leaf clover in the middle of winter.”
Her maid bobbed her head. “Well, if Lady Minerva truly intends for ye to be wed by the end of the Season, ye best make the first event one to remember.”
Annie was right. The opening affair needed to be memorable, one she would never forget, one that all the members of the Wicked Ladies Salon would treasure. Booted steps and male voices floated through the curtains at the far end of the room.
“My thanks, Mr. Wembly, for agreeing to meet on such short notice.” The familiar baritone had Isadora storming toward the stage.
What the devil was the Duke of Avondale doing here?
Mr. Wembly’s chubby hand drew back the curtain. “Ah, Lady Isadora, I’m so glad you have arrived safely.” The proprietor rose from a curt bow and motioned for her to join him as he waved his hand toward the side door. “Shall we all adjourn to my office?”
Ignoring the duke and the effect he was having upon her pulse, Isadora stepped forward. “Mr. Wembly, I do not care for surprises.”
“Neither do I, Lady Isadora. Please, come join us.” He walked over to the door and held it open for her.
Straight shoulders, chin held high, she waltzed past the Duke of Avondale, whose smug smile had her reconsidering if she should take her brother up on his offer to teach her how to box. It had been months since she had last seen the pompous gentleman, but her physical response to his presence had not changed. Her skin tingled and waves of heat rolled through her.
The duke followed close behind, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck, only intensifying her reaction.
Isadora took the seat in front of Mr. Wembly’s desk, glad for her knees were suddenly weak. Once she was seated, the gentlemen slid into theirs.
Mr. Wembly’s gaze darted between her and the Duke of Avondale. “As I was explaining to His Grace, Wembly Hall is in great demand this Season, due to the fire on the lower east side destroying both Astley’s theatre and Cartman’s hell. While we’ve received multiple offers for the rental of the space, my partners and I have decided to entertain offers only from the two of you.”
“Why?” Isadora blurted.
Mr. Wembly’s eyebrows shot up, then quickly formed a scowl. “Lady Isadora, it is…”
His Grace interrupted, “I, too, would care to know your reasoning.”
