Today's Reading
CHAPTER ONE
London
July 1875
John Castleton, Viscount Wyeth, more commonly known among his intimates as Rook, pulled the brim of his beaver hat down lower to shade his face as the sentinel standing watch outside the Elysium, a private club for ladies, shoved open the heavy door and allowed him to enter the foyer without any bother. A few years earlier, the club had been a secret, its existence whispered about as one did the existence of elves and fairies—with a great deal of skepticism.
But secrets had a tendency to eventually come into the light. Most certainly his father's had. As a result, he knew a great deal more about the club than most of the men of his acquaintance. He'd been given a private tour of the establishment. After all, his brother—one of his sire's bastards—owned it.
Seeing no ladies wandering about in the entryway, he relaxed somewhat and removed his hat. While the club itself was no longer clandestine, the identity of its members was protected, and he hadn't wanted to recognize anyone he might know or cause any lady of his acquaintance embarrassment. What went on within these walls was considered wicked and could ruin a good woman's reputation if it became known that she frequented this domain of sin, debauchery, and the forbidden.
Obviously recognizing him from other visits he'd made recently, the young female standing behind a counter gave a small bob of a curtsy. "My lord."
"I need to have a word with Mr. Trewlove. Where might I find him?" The guard outside had confirmed that he was in this evening.
"He's making the rounds. I'll send someone to fetch him, shall I, if you'd like to go on up?"
"That would be most appreciated. Thank you."
A short distance from the counter, between the two walls encasing a narrow set of stairs, dangled a red braided rope with a sign hanging from it announcing, Private. Enter at your own risk. After slipping one end of the barrier off its corresponding peg, Rook walked through and then secured the flimsy barricade that he knew no one would dare violate. Aiden Trewlove had a reputation for protecting everything he considered his. His dangerous repute more than any bit of woven cord kept people from overstepping the mark.
The stairs were dark but a light at the top served as a beacon. Most of Rook's childhood had been like climbing this stairwell, gloomy and solitary, light and knowledge just beyond reach. While attending Eton, he'd begun to hear about his father's exploits, the Earl of Elverton's ravenous lust, his countless mistresses, and his numerous bastards, the latter two groups spread far and wide over London, and beyond to the farthest corners of England. But the most vicious rumor of all, the most hurtful, the one he'd furiously hated and bloodied several noses over—and had his own bloodied a time or two— was that his mother—the present Countess of Elverton—had been the naughtiest, most lascivious, and most favored paramour of his father before he'd taken her to wife.
Eventually the truth had won out, and Rook now knew that she'd given birth to three of the earl's illegitimate sons. His father had delivered each to a baby farmer, with the hope that they would die as a result of the woman's lack of attention. Many foundlings did. However, Aiden had been given to Ettie Trewlove, a widow who had raised him as though she'd given birth to him herself.
A few years earlier, Rook had met Aiden when the man had saved their mother from being murdered... by her very own husband. Rook had never been particularly fond of his sire, but he certainly hadn't envisioned that the fellow responsible for his existence was capable of such a vile act. The earl's brutal encounter with Aiden had resulted in their father barely surviving an apoplectic fit that had left him incapacitated and bedridden.
Rook reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the landing. Farther down, the corridor had a half wall that allowed one to look out over the main gaming floor, but here draperies provided a hidden alcove. To his right was another set of carpeted stairs that led up to the rooms Aiden had inhabited before he married. Rook knew he sometimes still used them when responsibilities kept him working late, but he'd purchased a small residence where he lived with his wife and son. However, he had his heart set on acquiring a larger estate.
Rather than go up those stairs, Rook leaned against the wall, awaiting Aiden's arrival. He supposed he should be tempted to peer between the part in the draperies to possibly discover who might be visiting this evening, but he believed people were entitled to their secrets. Certainly he had his.
...
