Page 35 of Tender Blackguard

Counting Lord Lowndes, who’d been seated in a chair next to Hazelton and rose to his feet at Alastair’s arrival, there were only six men in attendance. Four of them, he’d already confirmed as being part of his father’s little club, and Lord Lowndes, he highly suspected. There was only one man in the room he didn’t recall ever being introduced to. If this was truly a gathering of the brotherhood, it was only half of the original membership. His father and Shelbourne were obviously deceased, but where were the others? Were there any others?

“Welcome, Warfield,” Lowndes greeted as he stepped up to Alastair and offered his hand.

Giving a slight bow of his head, Alastair replied in a casual tone, “Thank you for the invitation, though I have to admit, after your talk of forbidden pleasures”—he arched a brow and glanced at the other guests with very subtle hint of disdain—“I can’t say this is what I expected.”

Lowndes chuckled and leaned forward with a conspiratorial glimmer in his black eyes. “Just wait, my lord. All will be revealed in its time.” Straightening again, he swept a hand toward the liquor service. “Come have a drink as we await the arrival of a final guest. I don’t believe you’ve yet made the acquaintance of Lord Buckley, a dear friend of my late father’s. I’d be honored to introduce you.”

As the hour progressed, the almost subdued atmosphere in the room slowly became more anticipatory. Alastair heard a few grumblings about the delay caused by the last expected guest, but for the most part, the gentlemen focused their conversation on idle topics like the races or the weather.

As Alastair struggled to feign interest in an investment venture in which Viscount Marlowe had recently been successful, a bell chimed from the corner of the room.

“About time,” Hazelton muttered as he rose to his feet.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and an elderly gentleman strode confidently into the room despite the ebony cane he appeared to require. “Apologies, my friends, for the late arrival.”

“No need for concern, Your Grace,” Lowndes replied as he approached the newcomer. “We all know how difficult it can be for you to get away. We’re grateful you’ve made it.”

Marlowe made a low sound but didn’t contradict their host.

“Would you like a drink before we commence the evening?”

“Some of that brandy you stock, Lowndes, would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

As the two men crossed to the liquor service, the others in the room started to gather more closely in the center of the room, clearly anticipating what would come next.

Alastair tried to release the tension flowing through him. It would not do for any of them to note the resistance in his manner. Lowndes had said tonight would be just a taste, but Alastair knew it was more likely a test. They were not going to share any of their secrets until they determined his loyalty and believed he was one of them. If he was ever to gain access to the proof needed to end their arcane activities, he’d need to prove himself first. And that meant he’d need to play their game.

Once the newcomer had his drink, Lowndes led him to where Alastair stood with Marlowe. The two older men gave each other a nod in acknowledgment before their host offered an introduction.

“Your Grace, allow me to introduce you to Lord Warfield. Lord Warfield, our esteemed friend, the Duke of Chesterfield.”

“I knew your father well, my boy. We were in school together and enjoyed a great many adventures in our younger years.”

Alastair bit back the urge to ask if the duke had been one of the men in the crowd the night a young Irish maid had been repeatedly raped by his old chum. In truth, he didn’t need to ask. He already suspected most of the men here had been there that night, with Lowndes being the only obvious exception.

“An honor to meet you, Your Grace.” The words were vile on his tongue.

“Now that we’re all present, shall we get this evening started?” Lowndes asked with a suggestive smirk.

“By all means,” Chesterfield replied before giving Alastair an unsubtle nudge with his elbow. “You’re going to enjoy this, my boy.”

Alastair’s stomach clenched so tight he couldn’t manage a reply. Luckily, one wasn’t needed as Lowndes stepped up to the fireplace and turned to address his guests.

“Welcome, friends. It has been too long since we’ve had an opportunity to come together and enjoy some of the finer things in life. I hope my offerings in that regard will please everyone this evening. As always, anything that occurs in the next room remain sacred to this space and are not to be discussed beyond these walls.”

His black eyes fell to Alastair as he stated the last and held there until he gave a subtle nod in response.

Then Lowndes performed a short bow before striding to one of the tall bookcases that flanked the fireplace. Sliding his hand beneath one of the shelves, he released a hidden lever that allowed the entire bookcase to swing open on silent hinges, revealing a short corridor leading to a well-lit room.

Alastair resisted the urge to sneer. Of course, another secret passage. These men sure as hell enjoyed their subterfuge and drama.

“Come along, gentlemen. The night begins.”

As the others filed into the next room at an unhurried though expectant pace, Alastair tried to hang back, hoping to have just a moment alone to examine the mechanism which had opened the secret doorway.

Unfortunately, Chesterfield noticed his hesitation and tapped Alastair’s shoulder with the silver tip of his cane as he offered an encouraging wink. “No need to dally, my boy. Nothing to worry about in this. Your father lived for parties like these. It’s a grand time, I assure you. A grand time.”

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