Lord of Night by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: WebMotion
Published: 2017-07-21T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

T here was nowhere Simon wished to be less than a shadowy table in the back of the Cloven Hoof.

He was far from convinced there was any mystery to be solved. Like as not, Lady Pettibone had sent him on a wild goose chase that was wasting Simon’s time and the Crown’s money. But she hadn’t earned the hushed moniker “the old dragon” because she was a pushover. The Justice of the Peace had made it perfectly clear: the case wasn’t over until Simon definitively proved Maxwell Gideon’s guilt or innocence.

“In what, exactly?” Simon had asked.

The Justice of the Peace had simply sent him on his way.

So there he was in the back of a gentlemen’s club that was simultaneously both more and less exclusive than Brooks’s and Boodle’s. Here, the yardstick of a man’s worth was not his money or his title, but rather whether the club owner felt you worthy enough to be entrusted with the secret knock.

The alternative method of entry being learning the knock from someone already accepted into the club.

None of that was illegal. There wasn’t even a ledger listing member names. Either you knew the knock, or you didn’t. And if you knew the knock when you shouldn’t… well, Gideon had placed hired muscle at the door for a reason.

That might be illegal. Depending on how Vigo the doorman chose to resolve conflicts.

Thus far, however, Gideon seemed to keep a remarkably amicable club. Gamblers were allowed to wager as much and as often as they wished. Drinkers were allowed to run as obscenely long a tab as they pleased. Any fights resulted in immediate eviction of all parties involved, with the instigator banned for life. Even the betting book was no more outrageous than the one the fashionable set kept at White’s.

The most obvious question wasn’t whether Gideon was making money illegally, but whether the man was making any at all. Which, Simon had to admit, was in itself suspicious.

Perhaps Lady Pettibone was right.

He crossed his arms and leaned back into the shadows to watch the night unfold.

While his eyes focused on the dark, candlelit scene before him, however, part of his mind was not present in the Cloven Hoof at all, but rather replaying the most sensuous moments of his recent interactions with Miss Grenville.

Her fingers touching the muscles of his arm, sliding up the front of his chest. His hands cupping her face, sinking into her hair. The victory of finally kissing her. The rush of bliss when she kissed him back. The moment she’d bade him call her Dahlia.

Dahlia. A delicate flower. An undeniably strong woman. Yet the name fit perfectly. Both were vivid, multifaceted, extraordinary.

And if Simon had not been sent on tonight’s mission, he might have been kissing her lips right now.

As viscerally as missing their weekly dance lesson disappointed, his responsibilities as an inspector would always take top priority. One man missing a dance or a supper or a few hours of sleep was a small price to pay for keeping London as safe and lawful as possible.

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