His gaze turned sharp. “Why would you think that?”
“My parents said you didn’t, that if I didn’t improve my behavior, you were going to cry off.”
He stared at her. The gold flecks she’d only just noticed in his hazel irises seemed to burn with incredulity. “That simply isn’t true.”
It shouldn’t be a surprise that her parents had lied to her. They would have done anything to ensure she married Aldington. Constantine.
“Your parents sound incredibly cruel,” he added.
“They are not kind. That is part of the reason I want to change. I don’t want to be manipulated or viewed as malleable. I want to sponsor your sister, attend Phoenix Club assemblies, and host a ball of my own.”
He arched a brow. “Do you?”
She’d been considering it, wondering if she had the courage. If she didn’t, she’d find it. She had to. Notching her chin up, she looked him in the eye. “Future duchesses host balls. And they don’t allow themselves to be handled.”
“So, if I told you to stay home tonight, you wouldn’t listen to me?”
Was he serious? She couldn’t tell. “No, I would not. I like how I’m changing. And I-I hope you do too. Tonight, I want to go to a ball with my friend and come home to see my husband. Will you be here?”
“I guess you’ll find out later.” He brushed past her.
“I hope you will be,” she called after him. If she kept pushing him off balance, he eventually had to fall in her direction, didn’t he?
Sabrina watched him walk up the stairs and found herself appreciating the ripple of his shoulders as he moved, as well as the slope of his calf. She imagined his bare chest and hoped it wouldn’t be too long until he revealed himself to her again.
Tonight, she’d talk to Lucien and plead with him to ensure Constantine received an invitation to join the club. Then, she intended to wait up for her husband.
After quickly changing his clothes, Constantine arrived at his brother’s terraced house just as Lucien was stepping into the foyer from the stairs. The butler, Reynolds, was a terrifying figure—loomingly tall with a nasty red scar across his cheek. Despite his fearsome appearance, however, he was quite affable and always greeted Constantine warmly.
“You’ve arrived at an inopportune time, Con,” Lucien said as he drew on his gloves. “I am just on my way to the club.”
“The Phoenix Club. Of which my wife is a now a member, but I am not.”
Lucien pressed his lips together and grimaced. “Indeed. Let us discuss the matter.” He gestured for Constantine to follow him back to the library. On the way, he removed his freshly donned gloves, then tossed them onto a table before turning to face his brother. “You’re angry.”
“You’re damned right.” That had been Constantine’s initial reaction, but he’d convinced himself he’d overreacted, that he didn’t want to belong to Lucien’s club anyway. But seeing Sabrina tonight and knowing he couldn’t accompany her to the assembly had summoned his ire even more fiercely than when she’d told him about the invitation the other night. “How can my wife be a member while I’m not even invited?”
“Simple. The membership committee extended her an invitation.” Lucien exhaled. “And not you. To be fair, your name has never been proposed for membership. To my knowledge,” he added hastily.
Constantine rolled his eyes. “Spare me your rationale and your feeble attempts to make your position on the membership committee opaque. Everyone knows you sit at the top of the Star Chamber. It’s your bloody club.”
Lucien gaped at him. “First you roll your eyes—I can’t remember the last time you did that. I think I was ten and you were twelve? Then you refer to the membership committee with that tawdry nickname? Since when did you become so enmeshed in the bon ton and their comical obsession with how members are selected for the Phoenix Club?”
Swiping his hand through the air, Constantine scoffed. “Don’t try to avoid the issue.”
“Fine, I am on the membership committee, but it might surprise you to learn I am not a king—I do not have the final say as to who receives an invitation. We are a democratic group.”
Constantine snorted. “You could have submitted my name for consideration, but to your knowledge, you have not.”
“No, I have not.” Lucien threw up his hands. “I didn’t think you would accept, nor did I imagine you would even want the courtesy of receiving an invitation knowing it was only a formality because you would, in fact, decline.”
“How do you know I would decline?” The truth was he would have. And why did he want so badly to become a member now? Because of some ancient custom that said a wife must share all things with her husband? It certainly didn’t work the other way. If he wanted to invite Sabrina to White’s, he’d be laughed at. Then probably expelled.
“Because I know you.” Lucien fixed him with an unflinching stare. “You can try to deny it, but I think I know you better than anyone. Which is unfortunate. That should be your wife’s job.”
“I’m bloody working on that.” Constantine paced to the window in a fit of agitation. “Can you get me an invitation?”
“Is it that important to you?”
Turning back to face his brother, Constantine gave a slight nod. “Apparently.”
“I’ll do my best. As I said, it’s not entirely up to me.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “You do rather fit our profile.”
“There’s a profile?”
“Don’t all clubs have one? It’s not as if Brooks’s or White’s will invite just anyone. Nor can everyone get a voucher to Almack’s. Where’s the importance if there’s no exclusivity?”
“Except your club doesn’t seem to follow the same rules. How many dukes do you count in your membership?”
Lucien’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling as he thought for a moment. “None, I believe.” He grinned. “They don’t need our club, and we don’t need them.”
“Does any club need anyone?”
“Certainly, if they wish to be relevant and provide a place for one to belong.”
That single word—belong—drove an ache into Constantine’s chest. He ignored it.
“I’ll do my best, Con. I promise.” Lucien retrieved his gloves. “You have not mentioned how the tutoring session went last night. I admit I’ve been dying to know.”
“It’s none of your bloody business.” Honestly, it had left him feeling uncertain about his ability to seduce Sabrina. Could he set aside his preconceptions about her, when she’d only ever been petrified of him, to improve things between them?
“That doesn’t sound as if it went well.”
“I’d like for you to arrange for her to meet me tonight.” The request tumbled from Constantine’s lips before he realized what he meant to say.
Surprise dashed across Lucien’s features. “It’s rather late notice.”
Constantine almost took it back. But he didn’t. If he planned to visit his wife tonight, he needed to know he could do what he must. He could practice with the tutor, just pretend… “I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Con said evenly, using his brother’s words.