Page 19 of Vying for a Viscount
Greyson exited his family’s townhouse and, before entering the carriage, told his driver, Reed, “Rutherford Manor. Then on to Club Knight.” Once he was settled, he knocked on the roof, and the wheels began to move, sure and steady. With most members of polite society still attending one event or another, the ride to Rutherford Manor and then on to Club Knight should be unencumbered by traffic. Greyson rubbed the constant ache in his chest, the one he’d had ever since he invited Letitia to accompany him tonight.
Was he doing the right thing? Would she take one look around the club and demand that he take her home? Would that be the end of their courtship? Did Knight know something about Letitia that he didn’t? Perhaps they were acquainted, although Greyson didn’t see how. Did Knight’s wife know Letitia? That would make much more sense if she did, since they were both widows and of a similar age. That must be it. That must be the reason Knight suggested bringing her as his guest.
When the carriage slowed to a stop, Greyson exhaled. “It’s now or never,” he mumbled to himself from inside the plain black carriage he used for assignments. He deemed it wise to use it for club visits aswell. Nor did his driver or his groom, standing on the back of the carriage, wear his father’s livery. Greyson always found it valuable to travel with his groom rather than a footman, in case the horses needed immediate attention or came up lame. When the young groom, Stevenson, opened the door, he climbed out and found himself face-to-face with Letitia. It took him a moment to compose himself. How had she managed to break through the barriers he had trained so hard to conceal?
“Lady Rutherford.” He stepped back, creating space between them so he could bow. “Forgive me. I didn’t see you there.”
“Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s such a glorious night that I thought I’d wait outside for you to arrive. Breathe in the crisp night air and watch for any shooting stars.”
“Did you see any?”
“No,” she replied, placing her small, delicate, gloved hand in the one he offered to help her into the coach. “But the stars were vibrant and twinkling. Positively mesmerizing.”
Greyson followed her into the coach and sat on the bench beside her, since the carriage was small and had only one bench. He tapped the roof, and the wheels engaged. “Are you comfortable? This is not my usual carriage.”
“Yes, I noticed that. Did you break a wheel?”
“No. Nothing of the sort. I prefer to arrive at Club Knight without my family’s crest on the door. No need to draw attention to myself and set the gossiping tongues wagging.” Her breath caught, and he quickly added, “No one will recognize you with the hood of your cloak covering your lovely hair and face.”
Her breath caught again. “But what about once I’m inside? What then?”
What an idiot. He should have prepared her better. He reached over and covered her hands, which gripped a small velvet pouch, on her lap. “Forgive me, Letitia. I neglected to prepare you better for theclub. Every member and guest signs a confidentiality agreement. They may never speak of who attends the club or what goes on inside. I will take you directly to the owner, as you need to sign such a document.”
“But how do we know no one will talk?”
“We need to have faith in the establishment and in the owner’s ability to protect us.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Or I wouldn’t be bringing you here tonight. Try to relax and enjoy the night. And don’t be surprised to see people you know.”
She turned one of her hands palm up beneath his and curled it around his gloved hand. “I trust you. I know you wouldn’t bring me here if it weren’t safe or if my reputation would be at risk.”
Damn, his heart was pounding right out of his chest. “I stake my life on it.” His life and anything else he had to give.
The carriage came to a stop, and Greyson opened the door. His driver and groom, whenever they took this unmarked coach, except for arriving at Rutherford Manor, had strict instructions never to leave their posts in case they needed a quick getaway. He didn’t expect such a thing when visiting Club Knight, but one never knew, especially since the secret Black Knight meetings were held here.
He climbed out, leaned back inside with his hand out, and, with a smile he hoped would ease Letitia’s nerves, said, “Shall we?”
Her eyes flickered from his hand to his face and back, making him wonder if she was having second thoughts. Then she smiled shyly, placed her hand in his, and stepped out of the coach. “We shall.”
His chest swelled as he took a deep breath, having held it while waiting for her to take his hand. When he exhaled, it came out shaky with relief. She dropped his hand and quickly slipped her arm through his, moving close so they touched from shoulder to hip. “I can feel you trembling. We don’t have to go in.” Her entire body vibrated against his side, making him question once again his decision to bring her here.
“That is kind of you to say. But I think we both know I do. If we are to begin a courtship, I want no secrets between us.”
Bloody hell! There would be one huge secret hanging between them. One day, he would speak to Knight about it. Greyson often wondered whether the wives of the other Black Knights knew of their husbands’ secret work. Of course, he was getting ahead of himself, thinking about being married to Letitia. As he thought the words, his insides warmed, and so did his heart. Perhaps he wasn’t getting ahead of himself. Only time would tell. By now, they had reached the top of the outside stairs, and they faced a large man checking memberships.
“Card,” he said in a soft voice, nearly a whisper.
Greyson handed over what looked like a calling card, but it bore a single word embossed in black ink.Knight.
The guard, Samuel Cutter, handed the card back and opened the door. They were greeted by another club employee. He didn’t know this man’s name. It was only the second time he had seen him. He knew Samuel Cutter because he was a Black Knight.
“Welcome, Lord Greyson. The usual rules apply. Mr. Knight expects you in his study.”
“Thank you . . .”
“Mr. Savage,” the man supplied.
