“She’s with me,” Cross said.

“A member of what?” Pippa asked.

Asriel returned to his book, ignoring them both. Pippa tilted to see the book in Asriel’s hand. Her head snapped up, eyes meeting his in disbelief. “Pride and Prejudice?”

He snapped the book shut and looked at Cross. “She’s still not a member.”

Cross cut him a look. “We are lucky, then, that I am an owner.”

Asriel seemed not to care much either way.

Pippa, however, appeared not to be able to help herself. “Perhaps we should start again? We were not properly introduced. I am—”

Asriel cut her off. “Cross.”

“I confess, I am happy to see that she is just as maddening for others as she is for me.” He paused. “Vallombrosa?”

If Asriel thought anything of the request, he did not show it. “Empty. Everyone is at the fight. If you don’t want her seen without a mask, I would stay clear of it.”

As though Cross would not have thought of that himself.

“That’s the second time someone has mentioned a fight,” Pippa interjected. “What does that mean?”

Asriel was quiet for a long moment. “It means there is a fight.”

Her brows rose. “You are not the most forthcoming of gentlemen, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re ruining my fun,” she said.

“That is not uncommon.”

Cross resisted the urge to laugh. Pippa would not be the first to attempt to engage Asriel in conversation, and he was willing to wager that she also would not be the first to succeed.

She tried, nonetheless, with a wide, friendly smile. “I do hope we shall meet again. Perhaps we could have a reading club of sorts. I’ve read that one.” She leaned in. “Have you reached the part where Mr. Darcy proposes?”

Asriel narrowed his gaze on Cross. “She did that on purpose.”

Pippa shook her head. “Oh, I did not ruin it. Elizabeth refuses.” She paused. “I suppose I did ruin that. Apologies.”

“I find I like your sister much more.”

Pippa nodded, all seriousness. “That is not uncommon.”

At the repetition of Asriel’s words, Cross did laugh, and when he tried to hold it back, it came out in a strangled mess—one Asriel correctly identified with a scowl. Cross took his cue, pushing aside the heavy velvet curtain and taking care that they would not be seen before leading Pippa down the long, narrow passageway to Vallombrosa, one of a handful of hazard rooms on the ladies’ side of the club.

She entered ahead of him, turning slowly once inside, taking in the small, lavishly appointed chamber designed for private games. “This building is remarkable,” she said, reaching up to unbutton her cloak. “Truly. Every time I come, there is a new piece available for exploration.”

She removed her cloak, revealing a simple green walking dress—entirely ordinary, one might even say uninteresting in comparison to the silk and organza creations that the rest of the women who frequented this side of the club wore on a regular basis. The neckline was high, the sleeves long, and the skirts heavy—a combination that should have cooled Cross’s response to their interaction in the alleyway—but Pippa could have been wearing a lace negligee for how the vision of her in that plain frock impacted him.

It did too good a job hiding her.

He wanted it off.

Immediately.

He cleared his throat and took her cloak, draping it over the back of the chaise. “It is designed to make you feel that way. Visitors are left wondering what they might have missed.”

“So they are tempted to return?” The question was rhetorical. She was learning. “Is that the goal for tonight? To tempt me with your pretty rooms and your secret passageways?”

He was not sure what the goal for tonight was anymore. All the clear thoughts he’d had, the perfectly controlled plans for her lesson, they’d been muddled by her presence.

She turned away from him, moving to inspect an oil painting that took up a large section of one wall. It depicted four young men playing a dice game on a cobblestone street by the light of a pub. “Speaking of secret passageways,” she asked, “I’m very impressed by your architectural skill.”

“Temple talks too much.”

She smiled. “Do all the rooms have them?”

“Most of them. We like to have means for escape.” The place where her jaw met her neck cast the most intriguing shadow. Cross wondered at the feel of the skin there. Silk or satin?

“Why?”

He focused on the question. “There are many who would like to see us destroyed. It is a benefit to be able to move about without risk of discovery.”

She turned to face him, eyes wide. “Is that not what the man reading Pride and Prejudice is for?”

“In part.”

“People get past him?”

“It is not unheard of. I once awoke to a woman in my office. I assure you, she had not been invited. And only yesterday, I found her on the floor of the casino.”

She smiled at the reference. “She sounds like a special case.”

Indeed.

“I do not care for the idea that you might have to flee from some nefarious character.”

He resisted the thrum of pleasure that coursed through him at the idea that she might care for him at all. “Do not concern yourself. I rarely flee.”

He moved past her, rounding the table to put distance and mahogany between them. She stayed where she was. “Does this room have one?”

“Maybe.”