How to Best a Marquess (Raven Club) Read online

  “As I’ve assured you, I have no protest to donating to the charities. I still want to purchase the establishment.”

  “No!” Ellie said.

  To Hugh’s surprise, it was the countess who spoke. “We have considered both of you and have decided to see who would prove the ‘best man’ for the club. For one month, you will both run the Raven Club. Whoever is most successful will have the establishment. If Ellie wins, she will have the freedom to manage it with Brooks’s aid. If Lord Deveril wins, then our solicitors will draw up purchase papers. Your endeavors will be recorded in separate ledgers.”

  “You think to hold a competition?” Ellie asked in surprise. “That’s ludicrous!”

  For the first time, Hugh was in agreement with Ellie Swift. He found it hard to believe the earl and countess would even consider such an idea. One look at Castleton’s tense expression and Hugh knew it was the countess who had convinced the man to agree to a competition.

  Fine. Hugh’s gut tightened with a conviction. He’d always been soft where Ellie was concerned. But not in this. It was for her own good.

  He would win.

  “I accept,” Hugh said.

  …

  As soon as Hugh left, Ellie faced Ian with fists clenched at her sides.

  “How could you do this?” she demanded as indignation swamped her. “You are my brother.”

  “I wanted to say no. I still do. Grace convinced me otherwise,” Ian said.

  Again, Grace placed a hand on her husband’s sleeve. The effect was remarkable. Ian calmed and smiled down at his pregnant wife.

  A knot twisted inside Ellie. Once, she thought she’d found a man who had adored her as much as her brother loved her sister-in-law.

  That man had been Hugh Vere, now known as the Marquess of Deveril. She’d dubbed him the devil marquess, for certainly that was an apt name.

  What a fool she’d been. Only eighteen, she’d just had her debut into Society and attended her first ball. She’d met an equally young and handsome Hugh, second son to the Marquess of Deveril. He hadn’t minded her red hair, freckles, or her love of books. They’d been drawn to each other and had quickly fallen in love.

  Or rather, she’d fallen madly in love with him.

  “You know about our past,” Ellie said.

  Her brother and sister-in-law knew most, not all. She could never confess every humiliating moment. She’d cried in private for over a year. Her younger sister, Olivia, had attempted to comfort her during many dark and lonely nights, but Ellie had wept until she’d been exhausted and fallen into a restless sleep. Even Ian and Grace had tried to cheer her on more than one trip to Gunter’s for ices but had been unable to pull Ellie out of her melancholy.

  It had taken years to harden her heart.

  “You are no longer eighteen. You’ve rejected suitor after suitor ever since,” Ian said.

  “I will only marry for love. Just like you with Grace.”

  It was an excuse. She didn’t want to marry. She wanted to run the Raven Club and become an independent woman. Only then could she continue to use her good fortune to help others—women who were at the mercy of men who were sworn to protect and cherish them, not hurt them. If she ever chose a husband, then she preferred one who could be easily managed and fooled, who would never be a risk to her heart.

  “I support your decision to choose your own husband, but not in this.” Her brother waved his hand to the window overlooking the casino floor. “This is no life for a young lady.”

  Grace cleared her throat. “Contrary to my husband’s opinion, I do believe a woman has what it takes to run the Raven Club.”

  “I knew you would take my side,” Ellie said, hope lifting her spirits.

  Grace was talented with figures and took over the bookkeeping soon after she’d wed Ian. She’d also been teaching Ellie, who much preferred numbers and books over balls and dandies.

  And rogues like Hugh.

  She’d heard rumors of him in the ladies’ retiring room since his return from the army and his ascension to the title. He rarely attended the same events she did, so she hadn’t seen him. But his reputation for scandal preceded him. Widows. Actresses. Dancers. The salacious rumors had confirmed everything he’d done to her.

  Grace shook her head. “I haven’t taken anyone’s side yet. But Ian and I have reached a compromise. A test, if you prefer. Whoever is most successful in one month’s time shall have the Raven.”

  “You would choose Deveril over your own flesh and blood?”

  Ian let out a puff of air. “Cease the dramatics, Ellie. This is business. If not for my wife’s urging, I would have had my solicitor draw up the papers a week ago. Now do you accept or not?”

  “Fine,” Ellie snapped. “I accept.”

  Chapter Two

  Ellie found Hugh leaning against a wall outside of Ian’s office. He straightened when she stepped outside, all six feet four inches of him. His dark brown hair was mussed from his recent fight in the ring. An image returned in a rush—broad shoulders and bronze skin glistening from physical exertion, muscles bunching and straining as he punched and jabbed at his opponent.

  Barbaric. Predatory.

  Arousing.

  By sheer force of will, she pushed the image aside.

  “Why? Why would you possibly want the Raven Club?” she asked without preamble.

  “Why wouldn’t I? It’s a solid investment, I have talent in the ring, and I have a head for business.”

  “Rumor says you have a head for scandal.”

  “Ah, you’ve been following me?” His lips curled in a lazy grin, and his green eyes darkened a shade, reminding her of the ferns that flourished in the summer on her family’s country estate.

  Five years ago, those eyes would have charmed. His lips would have seduced. Her fingers would have tingled with the need to touch and trace the enticing divot in his chin. His features no longer held a youthful attractiveness but had grown into a man’s—a very handsome one’s.

  But she was no longer attracted to scoundrels, and he was the worst kind. She hadn’t followed him, as he’d suggested, but neither had she ignored the whispers in the ladies’ retiring rooms.

  “Do not flatter yourself, my lord. I haven’t been following you, only aware that you left your military career to ascend to the title.” She lowered her voice an octave. “I was sorry to hear about your father and brother.”

  His expression stilled and grew serious, and despite everything that had occurred between them, she felt a pang of sympathy for his loss. “Thank you.”

  “But I must admit, I often wondered if I’d hear news of your demise on the battlefield.” For years, she’d secretly dreaded news of his death. She’d never heard from him, not one single letter. And now he was back in her life, determined to wreak havoc once again.

  His smile did not reach his eyes. “Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot, her mood veering sharply back to anger. “Your history does not explain your presence here today. Of all the gaming clubs in London, why this one?”

  “The Raven Club is well known.”

  “So? You must have known my brother owns it.”

  He stalked closer, his movements smooth. She struggled not to step back. “Your brother, yes. I had no idea you came with the place.”

  She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. His gaze followed the movement. “I happen to want the Raven.”

  He had the audacity to laugh. The sound was rich and echoed off the paneled walls, releasing a slew of memories she’d locked up in a hidden chamber in her heart.

  Hugh laughing and teasing her. Hugh tickling her. Hugh smiling right before he kissed her and told her he loved her.

  Liar. Scoundrel. Blackguard.

  She straightened her spine. There was too much at stake to lose to him. The club aided the charities. Hugh said he didn’t mind and would continue the efforts. But there was more, much more behind her motivations
. She had made strides in helping the women who came to the club and sought her aid, beaten women who had nowhere else to go. If Hugh acquired the place, all her efforts would be for naught.

  “I want to ask the same of you. Why do you want the place?” he asked.

  She had to tread carefully, had to think of a reason a man like Hugh would believe. She’d never tell him the true reasons. She suspected he wouldn’t approve of her plans, and telling him was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. “It belongs to my family.”

  One dark eyebrow shot up. “And?”

  “And I have a good head for business,” she said, throwing his words back at him.

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why? Because I’m a woman? You think ladies aren’t intelligent or capable of running a business?”

  “No. I don’t doubt your intelligence. I never have. I remember your fondness for books.”

  More memories assailed her. Memories of Hugh stealing a kiss in her family’s library. He’d claimed he was as attracted to her intelligence as much as he was to her red hair and freckles. He’d lied about that as well. She’d heard the whispers of other women; her shade of hair and her freckles were too bold to be pretty, and men preferred subtle and perfected beauty.

  Hugh’s behavior had reaffirmed those whispers. The lady she’d caught him kissing in the gardens, Miss Isabelle West, had been a green-eyed, voluptuous brunette. Not one freckle had marred her pert nose.

  “If you don’t doubt my intelligence, then you should understand my ambitions,” she said.

  “No, I do not. Nothing changes the fact that you are a lady. An earl’s sister. You risk others discerning your identity. What of your reputation?”

  Her hackles rose. “What of yours? A marquess who owns a gambling club?”

  His brows snapped together in disapproval. “It’s not the same. Your idea is ludicrous.”

  Hugh’s high-handed manner inflamed her further. “Ludicrous or not, we are in competition. One month to show who can run this place. I plan on winning.” She had to win.

  He leaned close, too close, and his lips curled in a smile. “Challenge accepted.”

  …

  “Where to, miss?” the hackney driver asked.

  Ellie gave an address, then lowered the shade a few inches. The hackney started with a jerk, and Ellie leaned back on the seat. An hour after leaving Hugh, she’d departed from the back of the Raven Club and walked to the end of the street to hail a hackney. Evading a chaperone had not been difficult. Her family assumed she was ensconced in the office looking over the club’s ledgers.

  Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at her destination. The Cock and Bull Tavern.

  Ellie stepped outside the hackney and paid the driver. Picking up her skirts, she crossed the street and waited outside. The tavern was a two-story red brick structure with a large bay window. An old man smoking a clay pipe stood outside the door, and a few drunken revelers walked the street.

  A carriage pulled up, its harnesses rattling. Black and nondescript, no one paid it much heed on the street. The window shade parted a few inches, and a woman peered out.

  Time to go.

  Ellie hurried across the street. Not waiting for the driver to jump down and offer aid, she opened the door of the black carriage and stepped inside.

  Violet Lasher sat on the padded bench, her voluminous skirts splayed about her. No matter how many times Ellie was in her presence, she stared. Violet was stunning, with blond hair, a porcelain complexion, and sapphire eyes. Her artfully cut bodice displayed the mounds of her breasts and slender waist. Diamonds glittered at her throat and ears. Ellie didn’t doubt they were real, not glass.

  Violet Lasher was the highest-paid courtesan in London.

  “Were you followed?” Violet asked.

  “No.”

  “Not by the marquess?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Ellie had penned a note telling Violet her predicament over the Raven Club and her challenge to win the establishment from the Marquess of Deveril.

  “Good. We must keep these meetings secret.” Violet smoothed her skirts, and a ring winked on every finger, diamonds and emeralds. “Rose Belise is safely ensconced in Scotland by now.”

  “Scotland?”

  “A vicar’s wife needed a companion. Rose was pleased to go.”

  “And her husband, the earl?”

  “Drunk and raving mad. Looking for his wife’s lover, whom he believes is responsible for her disappearance.”

  “Rose didn’t have a lover,” Ellie pointed out.

  Violet shrugged a slender shoulder. “Not that the earl knows. If he discovers the truth behind his wife’s escape, he’ll come looking for the person responsible at the Raven Club.”

  “He won’t. Rose claimed his brain isn’t as large as other parts of him.”

  Violet’s lips curled in a smile, then her expression sobered. “Still. There is the possibility that you put yourself in danger.”

  “So do you.”

  Violet laughed, a throaty feminine sound that no doubt had lured dozens of men to their knees. “I can handle a man.”

  Ellie envied her power. Violet may be a courtesan, never a wife, but she had an abundance of beauty and brains. She’d also never be a slave to a man as his wife, never lose her property or her name upon marriage.

  Most importantly, never lose her heart.

  When Violet grew old, she was shrewd enough to have saved a tidy fortune and a small home in Brighton by the sea—a home that was a gift from a grateful, aging noble.

  Fortunately for Ellie, the courtesan also had a conscience and was her accomplice in aiding the abused and desperate women who came to Ellie at the club. Violet’s sister had been beaten to death by her husband. He’d never stood trial for his crime and even remarried. Violet had been ten years younger than her sister and helpless to obtain justice for her murder.

  She eventually had her vengeance by paying a man to slice her brother-in-law’s throat and drop him in the Thames.

  The courtesan tilted her head to the side and regarded Ellie. “Why do you put yourself at risk? Was it a friend?”

  Ellie’s fingers tightened on the strings of her reticule. She knew what the courtesan was asking. “Mary wasn’t a friend. At least, not right away.”

  “Then why?”

  Ellie hesitated, but Violet had a way of putting her at ease. “Lady Moore, Mary, frequented the club. My brother, Ian, first noticed the bruises. He refused her husband, a viscount, membership. She came to the club more often then, knowing she would be safe for those few hours. Mary was only a year older than myself at the time, and I recalled seeing her when I had my own debut. We all thought her fortunate when the viscount proposed to her so early. She had two sons soon after her marriage. But when she showed up at the club a few years later we became friends and she told me…stories. Disturbing ones.” Ellie cleared her throat and swallowed. “The viscount had a horrible temper.”

  “Her children?”

  The words came easier now. “She’d purposely taunt the viscount during his fits to protect her two boys. She’d take beatings for them. Ian offered to smuggle her out of London, to find a new life for her on the continent, but she refused. She couldn’t leave her children.” Divorce was nearly impossible, especially for the aristocracy. It required an act of Parliament, and the wife would lose all rights to her children. Ellie thought it horribly unfair, a legal system created by men for their benefit at the sacrifice of women.

  “I can surmise the ending,” Violet said, a note of sadness in her voice.

  “My friend was found dead at the bottom of the grand staircase in their London home. Her neck was broken. The viscount claimed a burglar had pushed her from the top step.” Ellie’s voice broke. “She should have run. The end result would have been the same. Her children remain at their father’s mercy.”

  News of Mary’s death had been a turning point for Ellie. She’d decided to help as much as she c
ould.

  “You cannot save everyone,” Violet said.

  “I’m not foolish enough to believe I can. But I can continue my efforts. I’m expanding the club to have a private gambling room for women. I have no doubt it will be profitable. Many wealthy women frequent the club for entertainment. But I have another motive as well, one that involves subterfuge. I’ve arranged for a hidden room to be connected to the women’s gambling room, a bedchamber where a woman can spend the night until she can be moved.”

  “And the Marquess of Deveril? How do you expect to accomplish all this without his knowledge? I can only assume he will want to know what his competition is accomplishing.”

  “He will never learn of the hidden room.” She’d keep it from Hugh at all costs.

  Violet leaned back on the padded bench. “Hmm. Not all gentlemen are bad. There are those that cherish their wives and their marital bonds.”

  Ellie knew that. Ian cherished Grace. He couldn’t wait for their babe to be born.

  “The Devil Marquess is not one of those men,” Ellie snapped.

  Violet arched a well-plucked eyebrow. “You think he’d hurt a woman?”

  “No, not physically.” Of that, she was certain. He might be a blackguard, but deep in the marrow of her bones, she knew he’d never strike a woman. “But there are other types of harm.”

  “Ah, he broke your heart years ago.”

  Damn Violet for being so uncannily perceptive. “I am no longer a lovesick girl who swoons over a pair of green eyes.”

  “I have no doubt you can challenge him for the casino. But beware, a heart is a tricky organ. It has a will of its own,” Violet said.

  “You needn’t fear. This heart is immune to the Devil Marquess.”

  Chapter Three

  “Early start, Ellie?”

  Ellie turned to see Hugh leaning against a macao table, arms folded across his chest. Unlike yesterday, he was dressed in a green coat and striped waistcoat. The color highlighted the chips of green in his eyes, and the meticulous tailoring of his clothing emphasized his broad shoulders. After the boxing match, she knew firsthand his coat was not padded.