“You’re a cold bastard.”
“I do what it takes. Perhaps you’re growing soft.”
“And you’re hard as you’ve ever been.” When Bourne did not reply, he pressed on. “You may get some of the invitations without help, but for the rest—for a true return to society—you’re going to need Chase. It’s the only way you’ll unlock all the doors you require.”
Bourne nodded once, standing straight, taking a deep breath and adjusting the sleeves of his frock coat carefully. “Well, then I ought to find Chase.” He met Cross’s grey gaze. “You’ll start putting it out that . . .”
Cross nodded. “You’ve been laid low by love.”
There was a heartbeat of hesitation before Bourne nodded.
Cross saw it. “You shall have to do better than that if you want anyone to believe you.” Bourne turned away, ignoring the words until Cross called him back. “And one other thing. If your revenge relies upon your marriage and your pristine reputation, you’ll want to secure them both quickly.”
Bourne’s brows snapped together. “What are you saying?”
Cross smirked. “I’m merely suggesting you ensure that your wife hasn’t grounds for annulment. Take the woman to bed, Bourne. Quickly.”
Bourne did not have a chance to reply, as there was a sudden commotion in the main entryway to the club, beyond a wide oak door that stood half-open. “I don’t give a damn that I’m not a member. You’ll let me see him, or I shall make it my life’s purpose to destroy this place . . . and you with it.”
Bourne met Cross’s gaze, and the taller man said casually, “Have you ever noticed that it’s always the same promise, but never from one powerful enough to deliver?”
“Did your companion have a husband by chance?”
Cross went stone-faced. “That is one puddle in which I do not play.”
“Not for you, then.” Bourne headed for the door, pushing it open to find Bruno and Asriel, two of the door-men of the hell, holding a man of average height and average build face-first against the wall. “Gentlemen,” he drawled. “What have you found?”
Asriel turned to him. “He’s after you.”
At the words, the man began to fight in earnest. “Bourne! You’ll see me now, or you’ll see me at dawn.”
He recognized the voice.
Tommy.
It had been nine years since the last time he’d seen Tommy Alles, since the night his father had taken everything that Bourne had, with pleasure. Since Tommy had chosen his inheritance—Bourne’s inheritance—over his friend.
Nine years, and still the hot betrayal coursed through him at the way his friend had turned his back. At the way he had been so complicit in his father’s actions.
“Do not for one moment imagine that I would not gleefully meet you at dawn,” he said. “Indeed, I would think very carefully before making the offer if I were you.”
Tommy turned his head against the velvet-covered wall, facing Bourne. “Call off your dogs.”
Asriel growled deep in his throat, and Bruno thumped Tommy into the wall. At his grunt, Bourne said, “Careful now, they do not take well to bad manners.”
One arm went high between his shoulders, and Tommy winced. “This isn’t their battle. It’s yours.”
Needham had likely warned Tommy of Bourne’s plans and their arrangement. There could be nothing else that would bring Langford’s son here to face Bourne and his anger. “What you seek is not here.”
“I hope to hell she isn’t.”
She.
And with that single word, it all fell into place.
Tommy hadn’t come for Needham’s document. Likely didn’t even know it existed.
He had come for Penelope.
He had come for Falconwell.
“Let him go.”
Once released, Tommy shrugged back into his coat and cast a loathing glance at the two men. “Thank you.” Bruno and Asriel stepped back but did not leave the small space, ready to leap to their employer’s aid should he need them.
Bourne spoke first. “I shall be very clear. I married Penelope this morning and, in doing so, made Falconwell mine. Neither you nor your father will touch it. Indeed, if I discover that either of you ever sets foot on the land again, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Tommy wiped one hand across a swollen lip and laughed, the sound hollow and humorless. “You think I didn’t know you’d come for it? I knew you’d do whatever was required to reclaim it the second it was out of my father’s hands. Why do you think I tried to marry her first?”
The words echoed through the small room, and Bourne was grateful for the dim light that hid his surprise.
Tommy was the fiancé.