Into The Hall Of Vice. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Once inside, he strode to the far wall, opened the curtains and revealed a view of the gaming floor, though no one was the wiser. The door opened and closed behind him but he didn’t turn and a moment later Max stood beside him.

      ‘Quite an establishment we’ve created, isn’t it?’ The two men watched the gaming floor. Were anyone to look away from the tables and upward to the wall, they would see a mural of vivid images instead of the panes which kept the offices well hidden.

      Cole noticed the reckless viscount below had lost it all, his pockets to let, but likewise knew the fool would return on the morrow. The discreet hell possessed an impressive list of guests most every evening, the reputation for high stakes and ruthless competition the biggest draw. Gentry enjoyed their private secrets, while men similar to Cole and Max wore their sins with pride. The irony amused him. ‘Not too shabby considering our upbringing, wealthy bastards from ill-begotten beginnings.’

      The men never shared their personal agendas or haunting regrets. They didn’t need to. Their business was making money and together they succeeded with skill. At the moment, Luke was the missing member of their trio, each man adept at different aspects of the partnership. But, like all associates, when one had enterprise which took them in a separate direction, the others compensated.

      Cole was content in his role with few complaints. He managed the business end of the hell and while he happily counted the vowels of indebted peers, he never wished for the responsibility and pressure that accompanied an entitlement. Perhaps the best thing his father ever did was shove him from that carriage step to set Cole on this course, to become the man he was meant to be.

      He stood quietly with Max, admiring the exchange of money and chips against the green baize, gratified in the satisfaction and profit each night’s ante brought. Even the working girls enjoyed the evening, their laughter afloat above the frenetic exchange on the tables. This was their world. Above the upper nobility, in kind to the most fashionable society, and under no one’s thumb because of it.

      With the fleeting mental suggestion, his thoughts turned to Lady Amberson. Perhaps he should mention the meeting to Max, who knew the names and reputations of most all of London’s betters. Yet something held him back. Her place in society mattered little. He would likely never see her again. Still, another part of him, some untamed and illogical desire left over from another life, decided he should keep the lady a secret. Perhaps he didn’t wish to hear how far above him she lived, or worse, that she was a wife, mother… any other label that kept her out of reach. He clenched his teeth and demanded his wayward thoughts cease. What was this foolish preoccupation with the lady? She believed him an impecunious man, living in poverty in a section of London responsible for disease and crime. That is what he wished her to see, when he was Mr Goodworth, and that is what the lady perceived. Pity though, that he hadn’t been himself in that moment. The issue itched his brain, an uncomfortable niggling he could not scratch.

      He shook his head a second time, annoyed at his nonsensical struggle. Max had left the office, abandoning their conversation, full knowing that, when Cole sank into contemplative silence, no jovial banter would be had.

      Gemma insisted Nan fashion her hair in a tight twist, easily concealed under a young man’s cap, purchased for just this occasion. She would not dare tell her sister or brother of her late-night excursion, but without throwing caution completely to the wind, she’d taken Nan into her confidence. Of course, she’d suffered through a long lecture on respectable behaviour and an endless listing of all the perils and cautions awaiting her in the outside world, and that was without admitting her true destination. Nan believed she was meeting at Sophie’s to engage in a masquerade of sorts. Once the maid had sat through the convoluted explanation Gemma described, Nan surrendered in her attempts at dissuasion and instead changed her language to a precautionary warning.

      By years of experience, Nan knew better than to believe she could alter Gemma’s plans. Instead, the maid crossed herself with a brief prayer and set about twisting Gemma’s hair in the desired arrangement.

      Now, dressed in black trousers, a flowing brown linen shirt, hair tucked neatly under a cap, Gemma paced in wait for Sophie’s carriage to arrive. Nan would watch for the conveyance and fetch her so Gemma could remain hidden until necessary. The driver had been informed to come to the rear of the house outside the back kitchen. If anyone saw her leave, it would appear Nan was escorting a messenger boy out, perhaps with a biscuit in hand for his effort.

      Counting the minutes and eyeing the hall for fear her brother would awaken and discover her plan, she lingered belowstairs. The long case clock in the hall struck eleven one floor above. Time had come and, true to her word, a coach approached. Nan motioned to her as soon as it rolled to a stop and, with a meaningful expression of concern, the maid opened the door and Gemma slipped out.

      She climbed the extended steps, the driver hopped back on the boot, and the carriage lurched forward. Squinting across the dim lantern light, Gemma reached for the key to illuminate the interior in an effort to see Sophie clearly.

      ‘Don’t.’

      The harsh whisper stalled her hand mid-motion. ‘Why not? I can hardly make out your form across the bench.’

      ‘I will only disappoint you further. I cannot go with you this evening.’ Regret drew Sophie’s words out in long syllables.

      ‘What?’ Gemma’s incredulous response snapped in the quiet. ‘After everything I went through this evening, my clothing, lying…’ She waved her hands to gesture the extent of her undertaking, at odds with the situation. ‘Please tell me you’re teasing.’

      ‘What if something happens? What if I’m hurt or stolen, or worse, what if I’m discovered and returned home where my parents will believe me ruined? I couldn’t bear their shame or disappointment. I thought I could manage it. I planned and prepared, but the truth persists my parents have been through too much already. With Crispin gone and no word for months, we don’t know if he remains secluded in England or has left for the continent. Mother cries every day. My father lives in a perpetual state of stony discontent. I could never add to their misery by bringing trouble to the doorstep, even if my goal seeks to ease their misery. I’m so sorry, Gemma.’

      ‘But I thought you sought information. That Crispin was last seen at the hell and Vivienne would gain us entry.’ Gemma didn’t know which emotion to settle upon, disappointment, anger, or a portion of both. She carried her own guilt at manipulating Nan and disregarding her brother’s rules.

      ‘Against my advisement, Vivienne told her husband of our idea. She seems a completely different type of friend now that she’s married. For some odd reason, she refuses to keep anything from her husband. Sinclair insisted Vivienne tell me not to come. Still, now that I see you in disguise, I believe you might go undetected. I did not send you a message because I didn’t want to ruin your plans with my cowardice. Please know I will uphold my half of our bargain even if you decide not to venture into the Underworld.’

      ‘No, I understand.’ Gemma shuffled her boots against the floor, not wishing to cause her friend further distress. ‘I appreciate that you kept to our arrangement even though you won’t be joining me inside.’ She leaned across and grasped one of Sophie’s bare hands. ‘And I know your brother will come home safely. I can feel it in my soul, just as I’m positive something needs to be discovered concerning my father’s death.’

      The solemn vow lent a grave silence to their ride and Gemma considered Sophie’s earnest despair. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who truly cared for one’s welfare, not just as a responsibility, but because of the emotional attachment? It was times like this when she missed her mother dearly. Someday she hoped to find a good man, a husband who would love and cherish СКАЧАТЬ