Page 23 of The Viscount of Shadows

Chapter 8

It took a moment to realize the woman sitting across from him was Claudia Ellingford. What a convincing disguise.

“No, I am not here to join the doings inside,” Oliver replied haughtily. “So, it was you I saw slink into the back alley.”

“It is the requirement of my job, my lord. I can creep about with the best of them. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I said to call me Tensbridge.”

“Very well. Tensbridge, it is.”

“As you know, The Rakes had a meeting earlier, and Shinwell proclaimed our taking on charitable enterprises was tedious, so he and two others walked out—no doubt to form their own social club. Before his overly dramatic departure, Shinwell stated that he had procured a private room for a party at The Velvet Vine, so I came to see if my brother was with them. I was about to depart when you jumped aboard. Now, how did you know about this brothel?”

“I am acquainted with the owner.”

Oliver waited, but no further information was forthcoming. “And?”

“And nothing. The owner confirmed Bryan’s identity. The owner will observe the doings and will send me a report tomorrow. You should know that Shinwell falsely represented himself as a member of your rake group. Claimed your brother as a member.”

“Technically, Shinwell was still a prospective member when he made the arrangements, but we will have to say he is no longer affiliated with us.”

Claudia scoffed. “Because you have a reputation to protect?”

“Yes, believe it or not. The club has been around for over twenty years, and the members treat anyone they come in contact with in a gentlemanly manner. We do not act as animals, always use protection when sex is involved, and always tip generously.”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “Do you know how unsufferable that sounds? Allow me to explain. The misery of women did not register with the British government until the military started catching certain diseases that interfered with Great Britain’s empire expansion. ‘It’s the prostitutes’ fault!’ So, multiple Contagious Diseases Acts were passed in the ’60s. It allowed the government to stop, detain, and forcibly examine women for signs of venereal diseases. Women were held in hospitals for as long as the government decreed. Some of these women were not prostitutes, just poor women from the working class.”

“The acts were repealed in ’86. I agree it was a violation of privacy of the first order. Of basic human rights. What is your point?”

Claudia huffed and crossed her arms. “You wrap your club in a cloak of respectability when all you are doing is using women who have no other means of income or survival. Why don’t you aristocrat types fight for women’s rights in government? Voting? Equal pay? A woman’s right to make decisions about her own body? Legalizing prostitution and making a safe environment for sex workers? It would go a long way to repair the damage of previous detestable laws.”

“You are deeply passionate. And I concur with everything you said. It is why I do not seek out my vices in such a way. I am not your enemy when it comes to these important topics.” Oliver paused. “And I apologize for sounding insufferable. It was not my intent.”

Claudia’s chest was rising and falling. She was clearly agitated. One could say this surveillance prompted her distress as if a mechanical switch had been flipped. And that had Oliver’s protection instinct spiking with awareness.

“If this assignment is bringing up upsetting subject matter to you, past or present, I want you to remove yourself from this case. The last thing I wish is for you to be disturbed in any way,” Oliver whispered compassionately.

Claudia flung off her wig, a few pins scattered across the seat beside her. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “It is my turn to apologize. I had no right to lecture you. You are one of the few wealthy men trying to foster some sort of change. I will keep my opinions to myself going forward.”

“No. Speak your mind. I welcome it. I will pass on your concerns. Believe me, I, and others, will take it seriously.”

She gave him a dubious look while removing the rest of the pins, and her red hair fell past her shoulders. The sight of it caused another aching wave of yearning to pass through him. Damn it all. He had to gain control of his desires. It was as if they had been freed from all restraints and what he would give to trail his hands through that crowning glory of blazing red hair.

“Well, thank you. That is something. But what do you hope to gain from gathering this information on your brother? It is obvious he’s sinking lower into depravity with each passing day. What will you do, tie him to the roof of this carriage and take him back to Kent?”

Tensbridge shrugged. “If needs must. I had that exact thought myself. It appears that scenario may come to pass sooner than I imagined.”

Claudia’s disturbed expression changed to one of empathy. “You also should realize that some people cannot be helped—they travel a self-destructive path no matter what obstacles you try to place in their way. Restraining your brother may make him all the more determined.”

“You may have the right of it, but what kind of man would I be if I stood aside and did nothing to assist my brother? The recently deceased earl—my grandfather—was a notorious rake in his younger years. My family initially cut off his allowance and tried to keep him home, but as you said, it made him all the more resolute. He had fallen so far that my family tore London apart trying to locate him. Uncle Garrett found him near death in an opium den, so the family committed him to a sanitorium. While there, my grandfather turned his life around. I must believe Bryan has it in him to do the same.”

Oliver exhaled. “I promised my grandmother I would watch out for Bryan and not allow him to sink to my grandfather’s youthful depths. I cannot allow him to sink. I just cannot do it.”

* * *

Why Claudia offered advice, she had no clue. But she had seen enough in Notting Dale and later in the East End to know that her statement was true. Tensbridge’s revelations about his grandfather showed that even the elites encounter drama and difficulties, which she should try to remember. And why even care about this viscount and his family problems?

But she did care—slightly. Perhaps more than that. The sadness showing in his lovely eyes arrowed straight to her little-used heart. His passionately spoken words curled about it, causing it to thump like a drum in a soldier’s march. Tensbridge unfurled something within her, what she could not say. It was a bizarre feeling, and Claudia disliked it. This man was an altruist. Thankfully, not a pious one. All the men in Claudia’s life had been the exact opposite. Tensbridge was too good to be true, which raised all sorts of warnings. What exactly, she was not sure. Claudia had never met anyone like him before, and he fascinated her.