One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“I set the trends for fashion. Men try to match my description. Every brainless toff in London wants to resemble me.” He gestured toward Jack. “He’s one of them, for the love of God. Why would you take his word, anyway?”


Spencer picked up the token from the table. “Perhaps because the brainless toff was able to locate in a matter of days the person you’ve been seeking for nearly a month? The fact that he found Leo’s token proves he’s not fabricating the tale. And it would certainly explain a great deal, if you were involved. Like why Leo’s body was delivered to your house that night. Why your vast investigation has gone nowhere. And why you’ve been so eager to pin the blame on me.”

“I wasn’t with Leo,” Bellamy said edgily. “I have an alibi.”

“Ah, yes.” Spencer narrowed his eyes. “What was her name again? Lady Carnelia? I don’t suppose she’d rush to confirm your story. What makes you think a married noblewoman would invite public scandal just to save your miserable hide?”

Bellamy shot a look at Lily, as though hoping she hadn’t understood Spencer’s remark.

Lily bowed her dark head quickly and pushed back from the table. “Lady Claudia,” she said, extending a hand, “would you kindly show me the way to our chamber? Silly me, I’ve forgotten.”

Reluctance was plain on Claudia’s face, but Lily clutched the girl by the wrist and fairly dragged her from the room. In unison, the men rose from their chairs. Because, naturally, that was the polite thing to do when driving two innocent ladies from the dining room with talk of murder and whores.

Amelia remained seated, looking stunned and pale.

“Well?” Spencer said. He didn’t truly believe the man had killed Leo. He’d witnessed Bellamy’s shock that night, and he could see plainly the toll recent weeks had taken on him. Even Julian Bellamy wasn’t a gifted enough performer to pull off the role of grief-stricken friend so convincingly. Whether Leo had been alone or with a friend, the simplest explanation for his death was still the most likely—he’d been the unlucky victim of random thievery. But let Bellamy know, for a moment, just how it felt to live under unfounded suspicions of murder. Let him watch the woman he cared for scurry from the room.

“We’re going to discuss this alone, Morland,” Bellamy said. “In your library.”

“Ashworth comes, too,” Spencer said. “And we’re going to do more than discuss the matter.” He tossed the disc of brass in his hand. He hadn’t planned to do this so soon, but this was the perfect opportunity—when emotions and enmity were running high. “We’re going to sit down to cards. It’s time to disband the Stud Club once and for all.”

“Fine by me,” Ashworth said.

Spencer turned to Bellamy and stared him down, filling his gaze with unspoken challenge. This was the moment. Unless the lying bastard balked, victory would be his, tonight.

“All right.” Hatred was keen in Bellamy’s eyes. “Let’s end it. And then you’ll tell me where this bit of skirt’s being put up, and I head back to London in the morning. I need to question this woman as soon as possible.”

“In the library, then.” Spencer moved aside as Ashworth and Bellamy stalked from the room and crossed the narrow corridor to enter the library.

He shot out an arm to prevent Jack from following. “Not you.”

“Come on, Morland,” Jack muttered. “Let me play.”

“Where’s the harlot?”

“The Blue Turtle Inn in Hounslow.”

“The papers?”

“Here.” Jack withdrew them from inside his coat and slung them on the table. He lowered his voice. “Now let me play. I found that token. I found her. You owe me a seat at that table.”

“Absolutely not.” That was all Amelia needed, for Jack to run up a fresh debt of thousands just when he was on the verge of getting clear. “You’ve done what you came to do. You’ll leave tonight.”

“Tonight?” Amelia finally jolted from her reverie. “He’s just arrived. And this is our family’s house. You can’t boot him out.”

“Our family’s house?” Jack turned an accusatory gaze on Spencer. “You didn’t even tell her, did you?”

“Tell me what?” Amelia asked, rising from her chair.

Spencer sighed. He hoped she’d take this well, in the spirit it was intended. “I’d planned to tell you tonight. I’m buying the cottage.”

“Buying the cottage?” She looked to the rafters. “This cottage? Briarbank?”

“Yes, to all three.”

“You can’t possibly buy this cottage. It’s entailed.”

“No, it’s not. The land surrounding the castle, yes. But not this property.”

“So those papers …” Her eyes fell to the table.

“Will make the house mine.” Damn it. “Ours.”

“But …” She blinked furiously. “But this house has belonged to the d’Orsay family for centuries.”

Bollocks. She was not taking it well. Not well at all.

“You really should have told her,” Jack said.

“Get out,” Spencer snapped. He needed to discuss this with Amelia in private.