Beloved Enemy by van Lustbader Eric

Author:van Lustbader, Eric [van Lustbader, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781856185
Publisher: Forge Books
Published: 2013-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

THE ST. Giles’s Club occupied a stupendous limestone structure of palatial cake-box beaux arts style on the posh northern curve of Dupont Circle. It was originally the home of Stanley James Fortune, a tycoon in the truest sense of the word, who began in railroads, then segued into minerals, most notably diamond mines in the Belgian Congo. Fortune died prematurely of dementia praecox, after which his home was handed down to his son. Subsequently, his great-grandsons commenced a thirty-year war with one another, which led to the building being sold to the St. Giles’s Club of Kensington, London. Its directors had been looking for a suitable venue for their foray into the colonies, as they only half-jokingly referred to America. The price had been high, but the directors had made up their minds, and for them money was no object. The deal was quickly consummated, after which they began a tedious three years of renovations, following which they deemed their colonies’ outpost ready to open its doors.

Of course it was expensive to be a member, but in accordance with their credo, the directors’ eighteenth-century criteria had more to do with your station in life than how much money you were worth. As an adjunct, it was also whom you knew, for you had to be nominated in order to be considered for membership.

For Jonatha, whose net worth would impress no one, membership in St. Giles’s was nevertheless a snap. She knew Sir Edward Enfield-Somerset, a London director, who had been anointed director of the St. Giles’s Club in the States. Sir Edward was a big bear of a man, six-foot-six, with the rough, reddened skin of the inveterate outdoorsman and drinker of fine single malts and other powerful spirits.

Jonatha had met him through a mutual friend. To say that Sir Edward was taken with her would be to do his emotions a grave disservice. He was bedazzled by her—not only by her physical appearance but by her intellect, which he took advantage of every chance he got. In return, he named her a member of the St. Giles’s Club in perpetuity. In short, she had the run of the place. The one time she had paid for dinner, he had been so upset she never did it again, though having someone else pay her freight was against her principles.

“You’re the daughter I never had,” he had told her. “You must consider St. Giles’s your home.”

She appeared at the club precisely at eight and found Henry Dickinson waiting for her in the marble, gilt, and crystal entryway. Dickinson had obviously gone home and changed his clothes. He wore a dark suit, rather than the bland gray one from earlier in the day. This one fit him better, and his shirt and tie were first-rate and freshly pressed.

His face split in a wide smile as the doorman ushered her inside. The evening had brought a slight mist, and her hair seemed to be sheathed in tiny diamonds glittering in the light splashing down from the immense Victorian chandelier Sir Edward had imported from a London antiques dealer.

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