Page 17 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

And then he was gone. The Duke took a few steps back, regarding her with a very satisfied smile, happy with his handiwork. Marigold was still trying to tame her reaction when he tipped his hat.

“Perfect,” he said. “Now, you must excuse me. I have to secure a license and organize a wedding within the week.”

That is all he said before he left. Marigold could still hear the birds singing, she could feel the bark of the tree against her back, and see the wind move the willow which meant that she was still in the reality that she knew.

But she found no comfort in this realization.

Because that meant that maybe she had just sold her soul to the devil.

CHAPTER 5

THE DEVIL’S CIRCLE

That very same night, Brandon made his way to the gentlemen’s club he was a part of. Like every respectable gentleman, he paid his fees to be part of White’s, but this was the club where he truly belonged. Hidden in one of the elegant parts of London, unassuming and inconspicuous, it was the kind of club gentlemen went to when they truly wished to be left to their own devices, free from society’s scrutiny.

Brandon followed the narrow entrance hidden between the elegant buildings. This was a part of the city without loud crowds and with very few shops, and the club had no distinct markings outside. Only those who knew what they were looking for ever entered.

As always, the first thing that hit him was the distinct smell of smoke lingering from chandeliers and cigars, and instantly, Brandon felt at ease. He needed some familiarity to make up for the craziness of the past few days. Everything he had been through had truly turned his everyday life upside down, most likely for the rest of his life. He desperately needed a reminder of why he did what he did.

The gentlemen attending the club turned toward him, but no one dared speak to him or linger too long with their eyes upon him. That was, after all, the main purpose of the club. Of course, the fact that he was the biggest and tallest gentleman in attendance in the main room also made others keep their distance.

A footman promptly approached him and guided him to the back room. As he removed his hat and gloves, Brandon could not shake thoughts of Marigold. Of all the things he had been prepared to encounter during this campaign, she had been the last thing he expected. And Brandon hated being unprepared.

Though he had to admit that he welcomed the distraction in what would otherwise have been a very grim operation. He attributed that to the fact that Marigold was an easy way to extract information.

Brandon had conducted the search himself, walking the seedy streets of London, trying to locate even the faintest rumor he could follow, but he was both too intimidating and too much of a gentleman. None of the people on the streets had been eager to share anything with him, recognizing both the outsider and the threat.

And then there she was, like a deus ex machina, a lady in need with exactly the information he required.

He had been after that gang for so long, painstakingly acquiring information, fighting for every scrap that would help him move forward. Then she casually revealed that not only had she been to their lair, but that she was also constantly informed whenever it changed. It was precisely that constant movement that made Brandon’s work so much more difficult.

And to top everything off, Marigold had heard Johnny’s voice. No one had ever gotten that close before. So it was only natural that he would want to keep her close. She was a motherlode of information, and she willingly provided it.

The moment his mind formed that thought, it instantly wandered to how she had felt against his body. His fingers involuntarily twitched the same way they had against her waist. Then his mouth remembered how her skin had tasted, and his ears replayed the sound of her gasps.

Brandon shook his head in annoyance. This was merely a mission, and he could not afford distractions. And Lady Marigold was the epitome of one.

He pushed open the door to the inner sanctum of the club, determined to be more focused and effective. After all, he was not there to enjoy himself.

The room was covered in dark wooden panels, expensive albeit simple. It was obvious that it had been created for functionality rather than pleasure. Save for the bare necessities, the room could almost be considered empty, but the few things that were there were distinct and luxurious.

Brandon immediately noticed that he was the last to arrive though given the urgency of the past few days, he was fairly certain he would be excused. He had had to obtain a marriage certificate in haste, enduring the Archbishop’s inquiring looks and the palace’s many questions. Perhaps because everyone had long since given up hope that he would ever marry, the certificate had been granted and would be issued within a few days.

As he entered the private room, the rest of his company were already discussing updates on their separate operations, and all of them merely nodded at him as he took his place.

“The law in the House of Lords regarding workers’ rights is moving forward,” Little said. “I had to twist some arms to make it happen, not always figuratively, but I have the majority I need.”

“We will make sure we are there to support you,” Thumb said in his authoritative voice. “Ring, how are things on your end?”

“Well…” Ring looked down at his brandy with a sly smile. “Without going into details that a gentleman should never divulge, I am happy to report that I am about to unveil the machinations of Dowager Brighton. I must confess, she had quite a cunning plan to steal from the government.”

“It is good to see you using your charm for something useful,” Thumb commented.

That earned laughter from everybody attending, including Brandon. It truly was a miracle to see Owen use his naturally charming self for something other than personal pleasure. Though if Brandon knew his best friend well, he was certain Owen had somehow managed to slip some kind of entertainment into the assignment. After all, Dowager Brighton was very young and very attractive, and Owen usually deployed a very particular set of skills to acquire information.

“What can I say?” Owen raised his glass toward the leader of their little organization. “I very much enjoy being of service.”

Brandon chuckled as he made his way to the bar. During these meetings, alcohol, cigars, food, and refreshments were served beforehand, and no one was allowed to wander before the meeting concluded. Brandon did not know exactly how Thumb secured these meetings, but so far, there had never been any leaks.