Page 95 of My Highland Rogue
Gordon’s home was designed like so many town houses, in that it was predominantly brick with a black door and white framed windows, sparkling in the afternoon sun. The approach was formal, however, the path lined by an ornate wrought iron border.
All this time she’d been thinking of Gordon living in London in a small house or flat. She’d never considered that he would own such a spacious dwelling. It was a sign of his character, perhaps, that he hadn’t bragged about his acquisition.
Ellen’s driver opened the carriage door and unfurled the steps, helping them out to the street. Together, they walked up the broad steps to the front door.
“I shall not be intrusive,” Ellen said. “I’ll leave and give the two of you time to talk.”
Jennifer sent Ellen a look of gratitude.
The door was opened by a very short man, who was very broad as well. He looked almost as wide around as he was tall. However, he was blessed with a bright smile that he flashed at them.
“Good afternoon, ladies. And how could I be helping you?”
Jennifer certainly hadn’t expected someone quite so Irish.
She pulled out one of her cards and handed it to him. “I should like to see Mr. McDonnell, if it is possible.”
“And sure, it would be possible if he was here.”
“He isn’t here?”
Of course, he wouldn’t be. He’d be working. Except that she didn’t know where, exactly, he would be working. When she said as much to the strange majordomo, he grinned at her again.
“Well, now, that could be anywhere, couldn’t it? He’s got two music halls with one being built, plus a hoity-toity club with another on the way. Although I think the hoity-toity club is the best place to be looking for him. If he’s back from Scotland, that is.”
He immediately launched into a long discussion of solicitors and travel and the appointments Gordon had evidently missed in the past two weeks, not to mention the volume of callers he’d had.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Ellen asked, cutting through the voluminous explanation.
“Well, now, he’s gone back to Scotland and him just returning from there. You could ask Maggie. She’d probably know.”
“Maggie?” Jennifer said. “Where could we find Maggie?”
“Where she is most of the time. At the hoity-toity place.”
“The Mayfair Club,” Ellen said. “It’s where I found Harrison.”
They thanked the majordomo, descended the stairs, and entered the carriage again.
“Why has Gordon gone back to Scotland?” she asked, biting back her impatience.
“Perhaps Maggie will tell us,” Ellen said. “TheMayfair Club is where Harrison likes to gamble. He even has lodgings there.”
“No,” Jennifer said. “It’s where he likes to lose money, according to Gordon.”
Thankfully, Harrison’s actions no longer needed to concern her.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Mayfair Club didn’t look anything like Jennifer had expected. It wasn’t appreciably different from the street on which Gordon lived. All of the carriages either parked there or letting out their passengers were fancier than most. She even saw a ducal crest on one.
The porter at the door wasn’t Irish this time, but quintessentially English with a very proper way of speaking. There was a glint in his eye, however, as he greeted Ellen. Evidently, she’d made an impression on her first visit.
“We should like to meet with Miss Boyland,” Ellen said.
The porter motioned them to an upholstered bench.
“I will see if she is available.”
