Perhaps not.
He smiled for the first time since his arrival in this godforsaken place. “Whether or not Miss Sutton likes it is immaterial.”
“Entrance for the nobs is in front,” added the guard with the apparent nasal problem, making another snorting sound, as if to punctuate his instruction.
It was utterly impossible to fathom why this dung pile was so cursed popular with all the dandies, fops, and bucks. Gambling and drink would blind a man to anything, he supposed. Fortunately, Garrick had never found himself afflicted with either sin.
“I have come specifically to speak with Miss Sutton,” he countered calmly. “I have no desire to wait about in a gaming hall.”
“As you like, milord.” The guard on the right offered a shrug.
They truly intended to deny him entrance?
His nostrils flared. This was outrageous. An egregious affront.
Miss Sutton was going to pay dearly for this most recent slight.
“Perhaps I can offer the two of you some remuneration in return for your reconsideration,” he suggested through gritted teeth.
“Suttons pay well enough,” said the man on the left.
“Our loyalty is to them,” added the man on the right.
“Then if one of you could be kind enough to inquire within as to whether or not Miss Sutton has returned?” he tried next, his patience waning.
He was beginning to suspect this entire tableau had been orchestrated by his brother’s fortune-seeking betrothed. Was the minx truly wily enough?
“Would you be wanting to go inside and inquire, Randall?” the one on the left asked the other.
“Don’t think so,” said the right guard. Randall, apparently. “Why don’t you?”
“Don’t want to,” said the other.
This was all Aidan’s fault. Him and his stupidity, following his blind lust all the way to this stew. Mother’s frantic words returned to him as he waited. It will be the mésalliance of the century, Lindsey. We shall be the laughingstock of society.
Yes, yes, he had to put an end to this damned farce.
Today.
He straightened his shoulders and pinned the guards with his most contemptuous glare. “I demand you to allow me entrance. You cannot expect me to wait about in the street. I refuse to accept such an insult.”
Before either of the men could answer, the door they were so assiduously guarding opened to reveal none other than Miss Penelope Sutton. And she was grinning, damn her, as if she had been witnessing this entire affair with glee.
She probably had.
“Lord Lordly,” she greeted him with insolence, confirming his suspicion. “What brings you to The Sinner’s Palace?”
His lip curled, but he did not bother to correct her, though her obfuscation of his title was infuriating. “You know the reason, Miss Sutton.”
“I am afraid I am in the midst of some pressing business,” she said blithely, “but you may await me in the parlor.”
Parlor.
Of course they would have a parlor in a wretched little heap like this, rather than a drawing room. What had he expected? Still, the prospect of awaiting her in some dingy little box as he had done the night before set his teeth on edge.
“I have already wasted a considerable amount of my time here at this door,” he pointed out, sending a pointed glare in the direction of her guards for good measure.
“Hugh and Randall, please see his lordship settled in the parlor,” she directed the guards as if he had not just offered his objection to her plan. “I will be with you as soon as I am able.”
Before he could offer protest, Miss Sutton turned and disappeared.
The woman grew more outrageous, more utterly insulting and infuriating by the moment. It was more than clear to him that she was playing a game she believed she would emerge from as the victor.
Ha!
She had never met anyone as determined as he. Garrick would be willing to wager his very life upon it.