Since it was not good business practice to ignore a request for a few minutes to speak from a customer, Nick nodded. “Follow me.”
Not comfortable enough to bring the man to his office upstairs, he headed toward a quiet corner of the club where the lights were dimmed and the men sitting around the few tables were more interested in drinking than gaming.
Nick signaled a serve to bring two whiskies. “What’s on your mind, Turner.”
The man placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward, forcing Nick to do the same. “I have women.”
Nick narrowed his eyes. “What the bloody hell does that mean?” He was already irritated with the man.
Turner lowered his voice. “Women. I have a steady supply of the best and cleanest women available.”
Nick squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Why are you telling me this?”
Turner waved his arm around. “Because you have a thriving business here which would only bring in more money if you supplied women. A lot of men here might cut themselves off from gaming after a while, but they all want a woman.”
Nick gulped the whiskey down. “No.” He pushed his chair back to stand.
Turner reached out and grabbed his arm. Nick looked down at the man’s hand and he quickly removed it. “Wait. You haven’t heard me out.”
“Yes. I have.” Nick leaned on the table, his mouth close to Turner’s ear. “I do not have women here because I don’t want them. I don’t want them as customers and I surely don’t want them as a service. There are brothels for such things.”
Turner shook his head. “You’re making a mistake, Smith.”
Nick stood and straightened his jacket. “Then I guess I must live with my mistake.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the gaming room.
A few days later he decided to once more try to entice Lady Pamela to take a ride with him.
He went through the now familiar routine. He dropped the knocker on the door, the staid man opened it and asked what he wanted. Nick told him. He asked him who he was. Nick reminded him. He was shown to the drawing room to wait.
Within a few minutes Lady Pamela appeared at the doorway. “Mr. Smith?”
The first thing he noticed were her swollen eyes. And her messy hair. And the handkerchief she was trying—somewhat successfully—to shred to death. He strode across the room and cupped her cheek. “Pamela? What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and glanced around. Lowering her voice, she said, “I c-c-can’t speak h-h-here.”
“Fine. Go back upstairs and get your coat. It’s cold out.”
With no argument, she turned and left the room. For her to be in such a state and so willing to go with him, something was dreadfully wrong. He paced in front of the fireplace as he waited, trying to imagine what horror she was involved in.
When she returned, her coat was haphazardly buttoned, and instead of fixing her hair she had pushed the wayward strands behind her ears and covered it all with a hat. “L-let’s g-g-go.” She took his hand and practically dragged him from the house.
“Slow down, Pamela.” He took her arm. “I have no idea what is wrong but whatever it is we don’t want the neighbors to notice.”
She took a deep breath. “Y-yes. You are r-r-right. Where is your ca-carriage?”
“In the mews.” He walked her two houses down and then to the back where his horse and carriage waited. Not having a lot of faith in being able to talk her into a ride he didn’t leave it out front.
Once they were settled and he’d given instructions to the driver to take them to Sally Lunn’s Buns, he leaned back. “I suggest you take your time to compose yourself. I will request a table in the back of the room where we can speak privately.”
Pamela nodded and looked out the window as they made their way to the Parade Grounds, across the street from the famous Sally Lunn’s.
Nick continued to study her. With the dark circles under her eyes he was quite sure she hadn’t slept well the night before. She seemed to relax somewhat, however, since they’d left her boarding house. Had someone at the house been bothering her? Surely not the old staid doorman. If that were the case, whoever he was, he was
a dead man.
Once they arrived at Sally Lunn’s and settled at a table in the back corner of the restaurant, her agitation seemed to return. If she was this upset, she would have a devil of a time trying to speak.
The waiter appeared at their table and Nick ordered tea and sandwiches. He’d much rather have a whiskey, but tea seemed to do a lot to calm down ladies, so tea it was.