Page 14 of Irresistible
Dougal moved into the members’ den on the first floor, his gaze sweeping the room, noting it was still the busiest night of the week, particularly now that the Season was over and there were no more Friday assemblies in the ballroom on the ground floor. Tuesdays were popular because it was the one night each week when the female members of the club were allowed to enter the men’s side—a benefit they exercised with great enthusiasm. The men were not ever allowed on the ladies’ side, save their portion of the ballroom during the assemblies.
This construct set the Phoenix Club apart from every other membership club in town. Women were not ever permitted at other clubs—they were specifically for gentlemen only. That women held full membership here and were even welcomed into the side reserved for gentlemen had caused a stir when the club had opened more than a year and a half ago.
It wasn’t just the inclusion of women that separated the Phoenix Club. Lucien had founded it with the express purpose of being a haven for those who were excluded or treated as less than others. The Phoenix Club was for people like Dougal—a Black man with dubious parentage, who, as the son of an earl, was invited everywhere, but never felt as though he were truly welcome. To Dougal and to many other members, the Phoenix Club was home.
Despite that, many in Society still turned their noses up at the club. That was fine with Lucien. In fact, he preferred to keep a certain—excessively arrogant and self-important—element out.
Dougal looked about the members’ den and recognized nearly everyone. Those he didn’t seemed vaguely familiar, and he committed them to memory so he could later determine who they were. This was the one place where he knew just about everyone and didn’t have to be concerned about unknown interlopers with nefarious agendas. Or just questionable people.
His gaze landed on a gentleman seated in a highbacked chair in the corner. Sixty years of age but often appearing younger, perhaps due to his rather thick crop of steel-gray hair, Oliver Kent possessed the sharpest, most assessing gaze of anyone Dougal knew—aside from Lady Pickering. They were birds—predatory ones—of a feather. What the devil was he doing here? He rarely used his membership.
Dougal strode to the older man, who was nursing a glass of what looked to be port. “Evening, Kent. I can count the number of times you’ve been here on one hand.” He sat in the chair separated from Kent’s by a small, low round table.
“You know I prefer the Siren’s Call,” Kent said with a slight smirk, his dark blue eyes gleaming. Owned and staffed completely by women, the Siren’s Call was the most unique gaming hell in London. It was where gentlemen went for female companionship—but not sex.
“What brings you here this evening?” Dougal asked.
A footman delivered a glass of whisky to Dougal, for which he thanked the young man.
“Not the impeccable service,” Kent murmured, answering Dougal’s question. “I had toaskfor my port.”
Dougal chuckled. “Don’t judge them too harshly. I am here far more than you are.”
“I counted on that.” Kent’s eyes glittered with purpose, and Dougal had his answer. The man—his superior at the Foreign Office—had come for him. “You are leaving for Dorset tomorrow. I wanted to ensure all was well and ready.”
Dougal assumed he was referring to Miss Goodfellow. He didn’t for a moment think Kent wasn’t aware of Jess’s employment as their newest cipher solver. Mostly because Dougal would wager that the mysterious Mr. Torrance who’d given her the cipher at the British Library was, in fact, Oliver Kent.
“Things are going well,” Dougal said before sipping his whisky. The familiar, musky flavor coated his tongue, reminding him of home. That made him think of his father and of course, his brother. Perhaps he should have asked for port too. “She’s learned a great deal in a short amount of time. We went to Gunter’s—not together—and surveyed those in attendance. I quizzed her about it afterward, and she demonstrated extraordinary observation and recollection skills.” Dougal had been rather impressed. She’d said she would commit to learning how to do that, and she’d executed it to near perfection.
“That sounds most encouraging. I can’t say I’m surprised. She seems exceedingly intelligent, if her cipher solving is any indication.”
“How did you decide to approach her? It couldn’t have been based on that one encounter at the library.”
Kent’s brows elevated slightly. “You know about that?”
“I asked how she was recruited, without saying exactly that, of course. She mentioned a gentleman called Torrance, who I deduced must be you.”
“Of course you did.” Kent chuckled softly. “Itwasjust that one occasion. She was solving riddles faster than I’d ever seen anyone solve them, so I gave her a cipher—a relatively easy one. She unraveled it in a matter of minutes.”
Dougal could hear the man’s admiration. “So you decided to send her more to test her ability.”
Kent nodded. “Lucien also managed to have her stay with Lady Pickering so she could be observed. Both her puzzle-solving abilities and her composure recommended her for this assignment. I trust you’ve done your part to ensure she’s successful? She’ll play the necessary role?”
Fairly certain Kent was referring to her pretending to be Mrs. Smythe, Dougal nodded.
“Good. That was a risk since she has never been married.”
“Don’t you worry she may be ruined?” Dougal asked.
“No, because she won’t be identified.” He looked sharply at Dougal. “You just assured me she was up to the task. Furthermore, I expect you will behave like a gentleman.”
Dougal shook his head. “Forget I asked.” He supposed he had a few reservations about corrupting a young lady, not that anything untoward would happen. Mostly. Dougal had to expect there would at least be hand-holding or even a kiss on the cheek. They hadn’t really practiced those things, however. She’d caressed him at Evie’s last week, and that had been the only time they’d touched.
He should have made sure they did. Why hadn’t he?
He didn’t have an answer. Only that something about her intrigued him, and he shouldn’t allow that.
“Am I going to lose you now that you’re the heir?” Kent asked, interrupting Dougal’s thoughts.
