“No.” His body thrummed with the need to go to her, to embrace her. He had to clutch the edge of the seat he still sat upon until he was sure he could master his basest desire. “I think you are a woman trapped in a man’s world.”
Before anything else could be said, the back door to the club opened once more, and the tall man from before came out. But this time he was accompanied by another tall but broader, more muscled gentleman with brown hair that was tied back at the nape of his neck. He wore expensively cut clothing as a lord would, but he had the look of one who knew the streets well. It was a hard look, a wary one. He had an air of self-confidence about him that Nash recognized immediately as belonging to someone with authority. This had to be Carrington’s partner in the club, Beckford.
The man looked between Nash and Lilias, and then he said, “I had to come out here myself to see what sort of lady could tempt my gatekeeper to break the rules he knows well not to break.”
“What rules are those?” Lilias demanded before Nash could speak.
“I’m to meet all ladies that want entrance. I don’t want any jealous husbands coming here causing me trouble. But for you—” he winked “—I could make an exception.” The man stepped toward her as if to touch her, and Nash stepped in front of her to meet the man head-on.
A slow smile spread over the man’s face, but it did not lighten his eyes. “It’s like that, is it?” He did not have the cultured tone of one raised by tutors and nannies. He possessed a more guttural speech, as one who had been raised by their own wits on the streets.
“It is,” Nash said in an unbending voice, but just in case there was any doubt, he added, “The lady is with me.”
“Fine, then,” the man replied. “And just who areyou?”
“He was here last night,” the sinewy man answered for him. “At the front entrance. That there is the Duke of Greybourne.”
“Of course you were here last night,” Lilias scoffed, cutting Nash a glare. “No doubt this is where you met the light-skirt who smeared lip paint across your face.”
Nash ignored her for a moment, though he’d not missed her jealous tone or how dangerously pleased it made him feel. Instead, he focused on the man who’d spoken. “I don’t know you. We’ve not met. So how do you know me?”
“Carrington told me. When you got snippy with him and stormed out, I asked him if he wished me to bring you back. He didn’t. He said you were a personal friend, and you were welcome here anytime. Said to give you special treatment should you require it.”
“And who are you?” Nash asked of the man he suspected to be Beckford.
“That there is Beckford, the owner of the Orcus Society,” the wiry man said, glaring at Nash. “You should know the owner of a club you want to get into.”
“Stand down, Bear,” Beckford said, then addressed Nash. “You’ll have to forgive Bear. He’s rather protective when he thinks I’m being disrespected.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Nash said easily. “I knew your name, of course, but I have never seen you. And I wasn’t required to know what you looked like when I was previously given entrance.”
Beckford eyed Nash and then Lilias. “You are the only one whose identity is still a mystery.” The man’s voice was too smooth, and his gaze lingered too long upon Lilias’s chest for Nash’s liking. He reached down, snatched up the cloak she’d discarded, and set it on her shoulders. She glanced at him in obvious surprise.
“She’ll remain a mystery,” Nash replied before Lilias could. She elbowed him for his gallant efforts, but he didn’t care. She did, he noted with relief, pull the hood of her cloak up. All that concerned him was protecting her. “She’s with me. That’s all you need to know. Well, that and if she ever comes here without me, do not give her entrance. That would infuriate Carrington.”
A knowing look settled on Beckford’s gaze, which was still upon Lilias. “Another Society lady dressed as a courtesan.” He shook his head.
“What gave me away?” Lilias demanded.
“Your face is too innocent. And this one—” the man jabbed a finger in Nash’s direction “—is too protective.”
“Men are not protective of courtesans?” Lilias asked.
“Yes,” Beckford replied, “they are, but in a different sort of way. A way that says, ‘This is my paid possession.’”
Nash did not like the direction this conversation was going. “Shall we go into the club?”
“And what did Greybourne’s way of being protective say to you?” Lilias asked, ignoring Nash.
“How the devil is this man supposed to know?” Nash bit out.
“Oh, I know. I’ve a keen eye. Your way says this woman is a part of you.”
Lilias gasped, and Nash had the urge to punch Beckford in the mouth. “Your vision has turned bad.”
Beckford snorted, Bear guffawed, and Lilias was utterly silent beside Nash. He purposely avoided her gaze. Nothing good could come of their eyes meeting now. “We’re here in search of someone,” Nash said.
Beckford nodded and motioned his hand toward Bear and then Lilias’s gig. In a flash, Bear was moving toward the gig and Beckford was waving them inside the club. “You can tell me who you’re in search of on the way in. I do have one question, though, and one favor.”
