Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

was more interested in the excitement gripping London as visitors from all over the world arrived to attend the Great Exhibition—Britain’s might on display. She soon persuaded herself that Lord Appleby was perfectly amiable and all her doubts were groundless.

But then Miss Bridewell sent a hasty scrawled note: Have news of serious nature. I am setting off to visit the person we spoke of as she will only discuss matters with me FACE TO FACE. I will send DETAILS as SOON as I have them. PLEASE TAKE CARE.

The wording was dramatic. Puzzled, Antoinette wondered what it meant, but there was so much more to occupy her that she told herself it was sure to be a storm in a teacup. Shortly afterward she became aware of the gossip concerning her and Lord Appleby, and had the unpleasant task of refusing his offer of marriage. A week later he staged the scene that ruined her reputation and placed her firmly in his power.

And now at last Miss Bridewell’s letter was in her hands. She only hoped whatever it contained would be the key to release her from her predicament.

A step behind her warned Antoinette of someone approaching. If Lord Appleby found her and asked to see her letter she could refuse, of course, but then he would wrest it from her. Antoinette was no longer under any illusions concerning His Lordship’s ruthlessness.

Hastily, hands shaking, she pushed the letter down inside her bodice, before turning to face whoever it was with an aura of determined calm.

It was Lord Appleby’s secretary, a young man with a protruding Adam’s apple and an ingratiating smile. “Miss Dupre,” he greeted her, his gaze dropping to her bosom.

Had he seen her deposit the letter there? Or was he ogling her figure? Antoinette didn’t have time to find out. A loud jangle announced a visitor at the front door, and the footman hastened to open it. They could hear him protesting, but a moment later he was stepping back, giving way before the forcefulness of an obviously unwelcome visitor.

It was a woman in a black gown, the silk rustling as she moved, her dark hair touched with gray beneath a fashionable scrap of a bonnet. The flash of jewelry at her throat and fingers was eclipsed only by the flash of her dark eyes in her beautiful and yet haggard face.

Surprised, Antoinette watched as the woman cast her black gaze around and fixed upon the secretary. He seemed to shrink, as if he wanted to disappear, but there was no chance of that now she had him pinned. She came rustling forward and planted herself directly in front of him.

“I want to see Lord Appleby.” Her melodious voice was heavy with a French accent. “I want to see him now!”

Belatedly, the secretary tried to assert his authority. “Madame, I can’t possibly allow—”

“I do not care what you can or can’t allow,” she cut short his attempt, one long finger darting out to poke his chest. “Find him for me.”

He hesitated, but it was clear that in a confrontation with such a formidable woman he hadn’t a hope of winning. With a nod of his head, he trotted off to find his master.

The woman in black tapped her shoe and said, “Psht!” She turned, and now her gaze fixed on Antoinette. For a moment she examined her intensely, until gradually a puzzled expression slipped over her face. The woman’s bright eyes slid down and stopped, and now she was frowning.

Fearing the worst, Antoinette also looked down. Oh dear, the corner of Miss Bridewell’s precious letter was visible above her bodice!

She clapped her hand over it, but it was already too late.

The woman gave a delighted laugh. “Ah, a note from your lover?” She drew closer, as if they were sharing a secret. “I do not blame you for finding a little diversion, my dear. Lord Appleby is so…so…” But a suitably descriptive word escaped her, and she wrinkled her nose instead, her disgust plain to see.

Antoinette didn’t answer, and perhaps that was for the best, because the next moment Lord Appleby spoke from his study doorway in a loud and irritable voice.

“I don’t see anyone without an appointment!”

The woman in black turned and stalked toward him. “You will see me!” she declared. “What do you mean by stealing my daughter’s inheritance, my lord? I will not have it, do you hear me? I will not have it.”

In trepidation Antoinette watched them, expecting Lord Appleby to jump into the attack, for he was certainly no gentleman and would not let his visitor’s sex stop him. But he didn’t. To her amazement he smiled, a smile Antoinette recognized well, as if he knew something he was going to use to destroy her.

“Madame,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Well, well, what a pleasure it is to see you. How many years has it been?”

“Not nearly enough,” she retorted rudely.

“I would have visited you, you know, but I have a reputation to maintain. If I set foot in your club I’d be tainted.”

“Psht! Enough. Answer my question.”

His gaze slid by her to where Antoinette was hovering near the stairs, her hand still pressed to her chest. “Come into my study and we will discuss this matter privately, Madame Aphrodite.”

Madame Aphrodite? The name was intriguing and Antoinette would have liked to listen to more, but that would mean eavesdropping, and she did not dare. Not now she had the letter.

Up in her room Antoinette sat by the window and hurriedly scanned Miss Bridewell’s words.

My housekeeper friend remembered in great detail what happened in Lord Appleby’s household in 1840, ten long years ago. He paid her to hold her tongue and so she did. But I managed to persuade her by appealing to her kind heart and her sense of duty, to TELL ALL.