Page 33 of One Night of Scandal
She nodded but didn’t respond. Jack left and hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be a mistake.
Chapter 10
The Crown and Anchor was a sizeable tavern just off the Strand on Arundel Street. Like the Wicked Duke, all manner of men met here. Unlike the Wicked Duke, the Crown and Anchor had space for large formal meetings. Jack led Viola inside to the main parlor.
She tipped her head back and looked up at the coffered ceiling with its decorative woodwork and the pair of chandeliers decorating the room. “Is it true Charles James Fox celebrated a birthday here once?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, there were over two thousand people, apparently. Twenty-some years ago, this was the primary meeting location for the London Corresponding Society.”
“Weren’t they also a radical group?”
“Right again. Their activities prompted the passage of antisedition laws, which have been recently and unfortunately resurrected.”
She continued to study the room. “Can you imagine if the Wicked Duke had interiors such as this?”
“No, but then I find the Wicked Duke quite comfortable.”
“I do too, which is strange since I’m a woman and most of the patrons are men.” She added, “Therearewomen there, mostly staff, but I daresay you are quite aware.”
There was an odd quality to her tone that drew his attention. “Why do you say that?”
“Mary flirts with you.”
He led her farther inside, looking about the room to locate the Spenceans. “The barmaid? She’s friendly, I suppose.”
“She practically throws herself at you. How can you not be aware of that?”
“Yes, I’m aware. I just decide not to engage her—or her designs. It’s better to just ignore them.”
She stared at him and shook her head slightly. “Men are so bizarre. One would think after two years masquerading as one, I would understand you better.”
Was she jealous? “I have no interest in Mary, and I never have.” He hoped she understood what he meant, that he’d never touched—or kissed—Mary. “I have little time for romantic entanglements. None, really.”
“I see.” The odd tone had disappeared, and if Jack had to describe her expression, he would have said it was smug. He quashed a chuckle in response. “So these Spenceans just sit out in the open?” she asked quietly.
“There are only a few, and there’s no law against that number coming together.”
“It’s any meeting over fifty,” she said. “Correct?”
He nodded as he recognized Henry Dean and led her to a table on the other side of the room beneath a wide painting of boats on the River Thames. “Good afternoon, Dean. Allow me to introduce my friend Tavistock.”
Dean stood and offered his hand to Viola. She gripped it firmly, demonstrating a strong, masculine handshake. She might not think like a man, but she’d worked hard to master the outward appearance.
“Pleased to meet you, Tavistock. You both need beer.” Dean, a burly man in his forties missing a little finger, waved his hand.
Jack and Viola were barely seated before the ale was delivered in two tankards. “Thank you for meeting with us today,” Viola said.
Dean nodded as he sipped his ale. Setting the tankard down, he glanced between Jack and Viola. “How can I help you?”
Jack had sent him a note requesting the meeting and had only said they needed help with something. “It’s a sensitive issue.”
“I presume it’s to do with the Spenceans.” His deep voice reverberated across the table even though he’d lowered his volume. “Everything about that is sensitive.”
Jack exchanged a look with Viola, then plowed forward. “It’s come to our attention that someone in the group may have worked to agitate things after Spa Fields.”
“No one had to work at it,” Dean said. “We were all agitated after that.”
“Agitated enough to try to assassinate the prince?” Jack asked.
