“No, but I’ve heard enough men and women tittering about the blasted garden passage.” Not to mention the numerous fathers who had recently warned him if he took one of their daughters on a stroll about a garden, it would be immediately followed by a brisk walk down the aisle he would be unable to escape without suffering dire consequences. He was tempted to take numerous ladies on a promenade about a garden simply to demonstrate how he didn’t take well to threats and most certainly couldn’t be forced into marriage—or any other result he didn’t desire. On the other hand, he could hardly blame the fathers for their concern. They’d forgiven him once for demonstrating unconscionable behavior toward a woman. As a matter of fact, to his chagrin, they’d hailed him as a hero, but then it hadn’t been their daughters he’d betrayed.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced up at the slender gent who’d arrived at his side just as King greeted his younger brother. “Lawrence, would you care to join us?”
“An invitation into the circle of the Chessmen? I’m honored.” He quickly grabbed a leather chair from another sitting area, shoved it into place between King and Knight, and dropped into it. He grinned broadly. “As you have most of the pieces represented—king, knight, bishop, rook, and two queens—I suppose I am left to be the pawn.”
“Never underestimate the importance of the pawn,” Knight said.
Lawrence wiggled his eyebrows. “Especially when he has the ability to get his hands on a rare find.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a leather-bound book and set it carefully on the table as he might fragile glass. Gold lettering was embossed in the leather. My Secret Desires, A Memoir.
No one moved. No one reached for it.
“How the devil did you get that?” King asked, his voice a near whisper of astonishment as though a once-lost ancient treasure had suddenly been unearthed and necessitated a moment of reverence.
“Lord Chesney offered it to cover his wager at the card table. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for me, I held the better hand. I’m quite looking forward to reading it as I’m given to understand it’s rather naughty. Chesney nearly wept when he lost. He said rumors are floating about it’s going to be banned for indecency.”
“Then we should all read it,” Penelope said. “People should not be denied the opportunity to enjoy what they wish. And how does one determine what is indecent? I’ve yet to visit a museum or an art gallery that does not have a nude statue or a painting revealing a good deal of flesh. They are acceptable in those environments. Why not in all?”
“You’re quite passionate about this topic,” Knight said.
“I simply don’t comprehend how writing a description of a person’s body or an act is any different than painting it, and I’ve heard this book is quite detailed. Although I don’t know the specifics, I can only surmise what might be considered indecent.”
“Perhaps they, whoever they are who determine what is acceptable, fear having less control over what one imagines in the mind when reading as opposed to what is presented on canvas. With words alone, a seed can blossom in the imagination and carry one on a journey into realms unexplored. Or not. Depending upon one’s imagination.”
“Knight should read it first,” Bishop stated succinctly, obviously uninterested in getting into a philosophical discussion. “Then he can tell us if it’s indecent.”
“You’re missing my entire point,” Penelope said. “Some of us might find it indecent while others might not. Who is to say which of us is correct?”
“I have no interest in it,” Knight lied. He was dying to read it, to determine if the imagination of bored ladies of the ton had simply run amok, if they were envisioning him as the main character because he’d become distant during the past few years, giving women—especially those whose mothers shoved them into his path—only the attention politeness dictated. At balls he rarely danced. He never took anyone to the theater, despite having a box. He kept to himself as much as possible.
“Of course you have an interest,” Bishop said. “You may be striving to give the appearance you aren’t bothered by the rumors circulating that the woman’s lover strongly resembles you, but you must be curious. A read should give you the ammunition needed to permanently put the speculation to rest.”
“If I ignore it, it will all go away.”
“Nothing ignored ever goes away,” Penelope said. “Eventually it will come to the fore and wreak its havoc, whether for good or ill.”
He didn’t know why he was left with the impression she spoke from experience. His two married friends were extremely protective of their ladies, and Knight suspected they all held secrets. Certainly, he had his share.
He glared at the book resting innocently on the table as though incapable of causing harm, when he knew it quite possibly possessed the power to destroy. At the very least it was making his life miserable because it and he were dominating conversations. People were growing bolder, asking him to his face if he was Lord K. He yearned to close his fingers around the book and spread open the pages until they revealed all the mysteries within.
“Bloody hell,” he finally ground out before snatching it up. “I’ll take it if for no other reason than to keep it out of your hands. Now may we discuss something more pleasant? A plague, perhaps?”
The blighters he called friends had the audacity to grin and chuckle. He wished he’d left the book alone because already it felt like it was scalding his fingertips and seeping into his soul, determined not to let him rest until he knew the truth of it.
Miss Regina Leyland liked shadowed corners. Especially at the Twin Dragons. Her preferred table, where she now sat, was located in just such a corner. She wasn’t certain how poker, which apparently was very popular in America, had become part of this establishment’s repertoire of games offered. However, it had quickly taken its place as her favorite, and she’d developed the ability to calculate the odds in order to determine the likelihood she held a winning hand. She was also quite accomplished when it came to reading her opponents and deducing whether they were bluffing.
Having grown up along the edge of Society, she’d had ample time to unobtrusively scrutinize those who wandered by, make predictions about their behavior, and discover if she was correct. She’d been like a child pressing her nose against the window of a toy shop, longing to step inside and discover something within had been made specifically for her. That she could select the proper doll that would grant her common ground with all the other little girls. That they’d accept her at last.
But they never had and so she’d simply watched. And in watching, she’d learned how to judge people’s temperaments and moods, to know when they were angry or sad or in love. She could determine who was kind and who was unpleasant. Who to favor and who to avoid. Only once in her life had she gotten it completely and absolutely wrong. But it had been a lesson learned and a mistake she’d never make again.
From her vantage point at the table with her back to the wall, she had an unobstructed view of those who entered the gaming hell and often observed them until they disappeared into various hallways leading to rooms where other entertainments awaited. Within her fertile mind, she’d weave scenarios about where they were going, whom they were meeting, and in what activities they might become engaged.