Thinking of the tension she’d felt in his arm, she said, “I believe Lady Torrington
enjoys those who stand up to her. But then, I feel her attitude would have been different had you answered her.”
Hunt nodded. “You are correct. No one insults my fiancée.”
“Pretend fiancée,” she muttered.
“Well, look who is strolling the halls of Drury Lane.” Hunt’s brother, Driscoll stepped in front of them, a lovely young lady clinging to his arm.
Hunt slapped Driscoll on the back, who returned the favor, both of them grinning. “Why aren’t you working?” Hunt asked.
“I am permitted one night a week off and this is it.” He turned to the young lady. “Miss Davenport, may I present my high in the instep brother, the Earl of Huntington and Lady Diana Pemberton.”
“My fiancée,” Hunt added.
Driscoll’s brows reached his hairline. “When did this happen?”
“Recently.”
“It is lovely to meet you both,” Miss Davenport said. “Mr. Rose has told me so much about you, my lord.”
“Don’t believe everything he says.” The brothers grinned at each other again.
“What a surprise. The infamous couple from the Grafton House Party.” Lord Melrose bowed and smiled at the two of them, something in his eyes making Diana uncomfortable. But then, the man was a member of the peerage who consorted with anarchists.
Hopefully he hadn’t sought them out because of what they’d uncovered at the house party.
She gulped when he said, “There is something I wish to speak with you about, Hunt.”
15
Two nights after the trip to the theater, Hunt entered The Rose Room and took the stairs two at a time to the office floor. He strode down the corridor and pushed open the door to see Driscoll bent over his ledgers and Dante slumped in a chair, his feet on the desk.
“Don’t you ever work?” he asked his younger brother. “Every time I come here, you’re sitting on your arse.”
“Good evening to you, too, brother. It just so happens I’m on a break.”
“You’re always on a break.” Hunt pushed Dante’s feet off the desk and pulled up a chair, turning it around and sitting with his arms folded over the back. “I have an issue with which I need your help.”
Driscoll put his pencil down, took off his spectacles, and rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. “What do you need?”
“I assume Lord Melrose is a patron of The Rose Room?”
Dante snorted. “Patron isn’t a strong enough word. It’s to the point where I’m thinking we should start charging him rent.”
“Except he loses so much money to us we can afford to bring in a bed for him.” Driscoll leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Good, that’s what I was hoping to hear.”
Dante leaned forward, his sluggish attitude gone. “Why the interest in Melrose and his sad state of affairs?”
Despite his indolent demeanor, Dante Rose was sharp-witted and intelligent. He’d made honors in all his subjects at University and still found time to bed a sufficient number of women and drag several of his friends home after a night of drinking and carousing. His mathematical near-genius had made The Rose Room the most successful gambling hell in all of London, probably England as well.
“According to DuBois-Gifford, Melrose is involved with anarchists.”
Driscoll let out with a low whistle.
“I confirmed that information for Sir Phillip when I attended the Grafton house party. DuBois-Gifford had information that the peer working with the anarchists would be at the house party and would be either passing along information or gaining information from one of the staff members.