of her error.
Granby’s expression collapsed into something like relief. He gulped. ‘Very civil, Your Grace. Perhaps...’ He gave Minette a pleading look. ‘Perhaps we should leave?’
Several nearby patrons, including the man who had inspected her when she’d first arrived, had paused in their game to watch the unfolding drama.
‘Oh, no,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘We should accept His Grace’s kind offer.’
Granby’s face crumpled. ‘Really?’
‘Naturellement.’
Freddy bowed, his expression mocking. ‘Be so good as to follow me.’
He led them through a door in the back wall of the subscription room. As she passed him in the doorway, Freddy leaned close and murmured in her ear, ‘I wonder what Gabe is going to think of this piece of mischief?’
She cast him a glance from beneath her lashes. ‘I didn’t take you for a tattletale, Your Grace.’
Granby gasped.
His Grace glowered.
Minette gave him her brightest, most innocent smile and breezed past him. Her gamble had paid off. She had his full attention.
Now came the most difficult part of her plan.
* * *
Following in the wake of the shamefaced Granby and the clearly recalcitrant Miss Rideau, Freddy curbed his ire. The attraction he’d always felt towards the stunningly beautiful French girl, with her velvety brown eyes flecked with gold and her deliciously creamy skin, of which he and everyone else in the club had seen far too much this evening, had nothing to do with his anger.
He was a normal, red-blooded male, and she was a lovely young woman.
No, it was Minette’s lack of respect for the feelings of his friends, Gabe, the Marquess of Mooreshead, and his wife, Nicky, that had him clenching his jaw to the point of cracking his back teeth. How could she be such a little idiot as to come to a place like this? ‘Heaven’, as his customers like to call his establishment when in the throes of their disillusion. For he had no doubt this was all her doing.
Fortunately for her, Barker, his maître d’, knew a member of the Quality when he saw one. The moment Freddy had come in by way of his private entrance, his man had brought him the news that the wrong sort of woman had strayed onto the premises. She wasn’t the first lady to wander through his portals. Usually they were older, married, matrons looking for a bit of excitement after doing their marital duty. As long as they were discreet, no one paid them any mind. However, never did freshly minted debutantes like Minette Rideau darken his disreputable door. Neither did he want them to. He liked his women as dissolute as he was, when he bothered with them at all.
She was lucky no one had recognised her. If they had, not even Gabe could save her reputation.
Minette was trouble. Reckless. Heedless. Things the male predator within him had recognised at their very first encounter on board ship. Apparently, she had no more idea than a baby about the harsh truths of the world in which he resided. The need to beat a little sense into the baby-faced Granby pulsed in his blood. How could the man have let her inveigle him this way?
He escorted the pair along a carpeted passageway, the salacious pictures on the walls advertising the purpose of the rooms at the back of the house. Some of his customers preferred their amusements out of the public eye. Such as those who held political positions, where deep play would cause a raised eyebrow or two. Others demanded more carnal forms of entertainment.
Minette carefully kept her eyes lowered, but he knew she saw them.
He opened the door to a room set up for gentlemen who took their cards seriously to the point of utter ruin. Windowless, panelled in dark wood, the only ornament a marble fireplace and mantel.
Once the pair were inside, Freddy closed the door and turned the key. Granby started.
Freddy put up a hand. ‘To ensure we are not interrupted.’
The lieutenant nodded and looked relieved.
Freddy fixed him with a look designed to freeze. ‘Are there maggots in your brain, Lieutenant? What do you mean by bringing a gently bred girl to a hell?’
‘Pardonnez-moi,’ Minette said, her voice equally icy, ‘I do not believe what I do is your concern.’
‘Well, you believe wrongly,’ Freddy said. ‘Well, Granby? Are you indeed so bacon-brained you did not realise that any one of your friends might have walked in and recognised Miss Rideau?’
The poor tongue-tied lad gulped and shifted on his feet. ‘Told you. Debt of honour.’
Freddy leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Tell me about this wager of yours.’
‘Lady Cargyle’s al fresco breakfast,’ he blurted in a rush.
Freddy waited for the next burst of words. If memory served, the young man had a bit of a stutter, which he manfully controlled by these staccato deliveries.
‘Croquet,’ Granby choked out. ‘Wager. Ball through three hoops with only one knock of the mallet.’ He blushed. ‘Not possible.’
‘So did she?’
‘Kicked it through the last one.’ He looked at Minette with a wan grin. ‘Fair. No rule about kicking.’
Minette lifted a defiant chin.
Unwanted laughter bubbled in Freddy’s throat. With great effort he managed to hide it. The girl was a minx. As smart as paint and always got what she wanted—by fair means or foul, according to a harassed Gabe.
Too bad she wouldn’t want— He cut the thought off before it fully formed. He wasn’t interested in respectable young females and if he had been, she had certainly never masked her dislike of him from the very first. Intelligent woman.
Now she was staring at him in that direct way she had, as if daring him to criticise.
He focussed on Granby. ‘What on earth made you agree to such a hen-witted wager?’ He waved a hand to encompass the club.
Minette bridled, her brown eyes flashing sparks of gold. Saints, in a temper she wasn’t just beautiful, she looked like a goddess of war. Gabe really needed to take a firmer hand on her bridle or the girl would find herself dished before she had time to make an eligible marriage.
The thought of her married painfully pierced the wall of ice he’d built around his emotions. Really? Mentally, he shook his head. It wasn’t possible. He didn’t care what she did, as long as it didn’t ruin his friendship with Gabe. One of the very few people he valued. He focussed his attention on her young idiot of an escort.
The boy looked as if he wanted the floor to open beneath his feet. ‘I didn’t know. Secret wager. Written on paper. Held by the judge.’
‘I can imagine what you wrote on yours.’
The blush turned fiery. That was the trouble with fair hair and skin—there was no hiding your embarrassment. Freddy felt a grim sense of satisfaction as the discomforted young man swallowed hard. ‘Nothing terrible. I swear.’
The fact that Freddy had sympathy for Minette’s victim didn’t mean he would be let off the hook. ‘What? Are you a sheep to be led by the nose?’ Some other part of his anatomy more like. ‘You are fortunate I do not intend to report you to your colonel for conduct unbefitting.’
Resentment flared in the boy’s eyes at the slur. No doubt he was thinking his tormenter was a pot calling the kettle black, but Freddy held his gaze and knew he’d made his point when the lad’s shoulders slumped. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘You can go. As a family friend, I will see Miss Rideau home.’
Granby looked at Minette in question.
An