it would be both comfortable and pleasant on the eye.
A mahogany chest of drawers and a cupboard with shelves stood in the dressing room, with a wash stand and close stool. Her clothes would all be kept in there. She would buy a cheval mirror or two and replace the gentleman’s chest in the bedroom with a dressing table and perhaps buy a chaise-longue.
She would show the intolerable Earl downstairs that she was no wilting lily to be frightened off by his desecration of her premises. What had her uncle been thinking of, to allow him to set up a gambling hell below?
The answer came to her without her even having to think. He had been a man, probably a gambler and had belonged to the Club. Of course he had seen no reason to object!
Apart from the interminable stairs she must climb to reach it, she would have been well satisfied with her accommodation. That she must use the servants’ entrance and back stairs was an insult entirely caused by the disobliging presence of Lord Kelsey pursuing his dubious activities beneath her.
Tomorrow, she decided as she consumed the cold ham, fresh bread and butter and pot of tea Mrs Parkes had sent up after showing Dolly her quarters, she would confront Mr Coggan in his chambers and demand that the lease be terminated. After she had inspected the premises downstairs.
Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day.
Sharp on nine the following morning, refreshed by a night of deep and untroubled slumber, Leonora trod down the main staircase to beard Lord Kelsey in his den. She took the precaution of taking Clarissa with her. After all, she was flouting convention by visiting a gentleman in his rooms, even although it was on business. Besides, there was something about the Earl she did not—quite—trust.
The doors on the middle landing were ajar and sounds of cleaning could be heard. They passed straight down to the ground floor and Leonora, seeing no functionary to stop her, led the way to the office she had been in yesterday.
Most of the doors down here, to private rooms occupied by the Earl and his manager, were firmly closed against intrusion. The office door, however, was ajar. She rapped on the panel and entered on a brisk invitation so to do.
She had not noticed, yesterday, that the room was more than an office. It was, in most respects, equipped as a study, with armchairs by the fire and a reading desk near the single window. The other window, this one’s twin, had been cut off to create an inner room, the use of which was not immediately obvious.
The Earl, however, had risen from the same large desk he had been using yesterday. Its surface was strewn mostly with bills and ledgers. He was not making the entries but checking someone else’s work, the scanty daylight augmented by the light from a branch of candles.
“You are punctual, Miss Vincent,” he greeted her, having bowed and received their curtsies in return.
“In business, my lord, it pays to abide by one’s promises,” Leonora said. “I am ready to make my inspection, and have brought Miss Worth with me to take down any necessary notes.”
Clarissa held a pad of paper and a pencil clutched to her breast. She was gazing at his lordship with bright, interested eyes and faintly flushed cheeks. Yesterday, realised Leonora, Clarissa had not had much chance to take in Kelsey’s splendid physique and the excellent tailoring which displayed it to full advantage. Neither had she been treated to a smile which conveyed both welcome and a degree of conspiratorial sympathy. As though she, Leonora, was some harridan to be placated!
She looked about her with an austerely critical gaze.
“This room appears to be in satisfactory order—except for that patch of damp by the window.” She walked over and looked up, peering as closely as possible at the stained wallpaper. “Why have you not had it repaired?”
Kelsey spoke in the resigned tone of one dealing with a fractious infant. “Because, Miss Vincent, the trouble is outside, in the stonework, for which the owner is responsible. Mr Vincent was intending to have a repair effected before he so unfortunately died. He also expected to bear the cost of having the wall redecorated internally.”
“I shall consult a stonemason,” declared Leonora briskly, hiding her discomfort under a businesslike manner. Dear Lord, how much would that cost her? She had not even considered that repairs might be necessary to the fabric, for which she would be responsible. “Clarissa, make a note.” She indicated the closed door to the inner room. “What is in there?”
“I had that room formed, with Mr Vincent’s permission, to accommodate my valet. It seemed the most convenient place since my dressing room is little more than a cupboard and has no window.”
He opened the door and Leonora took a brief glance around the small but tidy bedroom.
“Very well. Shall we move on?”
Kelsey closed the door again as they withdrew and strolled across to the office door to hold that open for them, looking indolently tolerant. Leonora seethed. He had certainly had the best of that exchange.
As they passed through she glanced about the hall but could not fault the polished floorboards, the strip of patterned carpet leading to the stairs, the cream walls and brown paintwork or the blue and gold tasselled decorations. Tasteful, mildly opulent yet dignified, it was tilted towards the masculine, of course, but she could scarcely complain about that.
A wreath-like decoration affixed to the wall near the front door caught her attention. She had not noticed it before, or the words it contained.
“‘Welcome to the Vitus Club,”’ she read aloud. “Is that what you call your gambling den?”
“The Vitus Club is known throughout Bath, Miss Vincent.”
“I’m certain it is. Do your members all suffer from nervous twitches?”
He laughed, but his tone patronised when he spoke. “Fortunately, no, Miss Vincent. My family name is Dancer. St Vitus is the patron saint of dancers. I thought the name appropriate.”
“Prodigiously so. If your clients are not twitching from some nervous disease, they will be from gambling fever or despair,” Leonora scoffed.
The dark brows lifted. Now his tone held an undercurrent of scornful disbelief. “Do I infer that you disapprove of gambling, Miss Vincent? That you never wager on a hand of cards?”
Leonora flushed. She had allowed herself to fall into the trap of appearing a prude. “Not at all, sir,” she contradicted him. “Like everyone else, I gamble in moderation when in card-playing company. I do not disagree with gambling in principle but fear the hold it gains on some people—” like her father, though she would not mention him. Her hand tightened on the handle of her reticule “—and despise those who trade on their weakness,” she concluded quickly.
He waved a hand, indicating that she should enter the door he was opening. She did, and Clarissa meekly followed behind. Leonora wondered what her friend thought of the verbal battle raging between herself and the Earl.
In truth, she scarcely knew why she was being so difficult, except that the entire situation had taken her completely by surprise. White’s, Boodle’s and Brooks’s in London could be regarded as respectable, she supposed, but even so a man could lose a fortune in an evening. The less respectable clubs often set out to fleece their clients.
Unable to meet the high membership fees demanded by
