The list was worth a fortune. All those names. All those secrets.
Kit could not hand that list over to just anyone. He may have opened the club with a view to making money, but that didn’t mean he had no scruples—he would not betray the trust that had been placed in him by his patrons.
Until he found an equally discreet and trustworthy successor, he would not be selling Redford’s. And based on what he knew of Jake Sharp—admittedly not a great deal—he did not think Sharp was that person.
Kit turned to go, but Sharp reached out, detaining him with a hand on his arm. His gaze was reproachful. “It’s not very polite to be deliberately misleading, Kitten.”
Despite Sharp’s mild tone, a shiver went up Kit’s spine. He hid his unease behind a tight smile. “As flattering as it is to be compared to a kitten,” he said sweetly, “I feel bound to point out that I am one-and-forty—far too old to be compared to an infant cat.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Then we shall have to agree to disagree, Mr. Sharp.”
Sharp sighed. “I wish you’d call me Jake.”
“And I wish you’d call me Mr. Redford,” Kit replied, “but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”
Sharp laughed then, and for a moment he really was handsome, his teeth seeming very white against his olive skin, and his light-brown eyes sparkling with humour.
“Have supper with me tonight,” he demanded, his gaze fixed on Kit.
Kit shook his head. “I’m afraid I will be dining early at home this evening, then returning to the club till the early hours.”
“I’ll come here then,” Sharp replied, undeterred.
“Regrettably,” Kit said smoothly, “you are not a member of Redford’s. So I will be unable to admit you.”
Sharp chuckled. “Oh, come on, Kitten. You could give me a membership right now.”
“I’m afraid not,” Kit replied. “The rules of the club require at least two references from existing members—”
“But you own it,” Sharp interrupted, though thankfully he seemed amused rather than offended. “You can do as you please, surely.”
“Not so,” Kit said implacably. “If I do not obey the rules, how can I ask others to do so?”
Sharp eyed him for a moment. Then he gave a rueful shrug. “Very well. I will just have to obtain the references, I suppose.”
“I’m afraid so,” Kit said smoothly, even as he wondered how many of his own patrons would be prepared to give the man a reference in return for writing off some gaming debts.
“Until then,” Sharp went on. “How about you join me for supper another evening. Tomorrow? Friday?”
“Mr. Sharp—”
“I know what you’re going to say,” Sharp interrupted. “But I don’t believe for one moment that you have to spend every evening at Redford’s—and even if you do, there is nothing to stop you taking an early supper with me one evening before you go to the club, is there?”
Kit sighed. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally.
“Friday then.”
“I only said I’ll think about it.”
“All right,” Sharp agreed easily. They had reached the end of the alleyway now, and emerged together onto the main street. “Let’s speak again in a few days.”
Kit sighed. “Very well, but I warn you: you should not expect to receive a different answer.”
Sharp only grinned that sharp-toothed grin again. “I’ll call on you,” he promised, and then he was walking away, swinging his cane and whistling as he went.
And since Kit was only human, he could not help but notice how very fine the man's arse was.
As Kit made his way home, he found himself mulling over Sharp’s words.
I don’t believe for one moment that you have to spend every evening at Redford’s.
Whatever the man’s real reason might be for pursuing Kit, he was right about that much.
When Kit had first opened Redford’s, he’d relished spending his evenings there. Of course, he’d only lived upstairs at the time, but it wasn’t just for convenience. He’d been making the place his own, stamping it with his character, as surely as he’d covered the walls of the card rooms in that damned expensive Chinese dragon wallpaper he’d liked so much.
The truth was, he’d loved finally having something all his own. Until he’d opened Redford’s, Kit’s existence had centred solely around satisfying the whims of others, with all the unsettling potential for sudden change such an existence entailed. It was a life that had left him with an insatiable hunger for some solid, unchanging foundation in his life.
Redford’s had provided that foundation.
Lately, though, his single-minded devotion to the place had begun to wane. Perhaps it was partly because, over the last several years, he had become much more financially comfortable. He’d finally paid off a sizeable loan he’d taken on when he’d opened the club, and several investments he’d made had done very well indeed. He now had a nice cushion of capital that was enough to provide a comfortable income on its own, quite aside from Redford’s.
Moreover, since taking Clara on, he didn’t have to be such a constant presence at the club. It had taken him some time to let go his iron grip on every detail of the business, but slowly, gradually, he was getting there. In the last year, as he had begun to lean more heavily on Clara, he had discovered he had time again. Time to visit old friends. Time to go walking in his favourite spots—down by the Serpentine and around Green Park, even all the way up to Hampstead Heath a time or two.
He’d begun to secretly draw a little, carrying little notebooks and pencils with him that he’d pull out when he sat down by the river or under a tree to idly sketch whatever little things he might spot: a simple flower, a horse chestnut bristling out of its prickly coat, a waterfowl floating docilely down the river.
The annoying thing was that, the more time he had to himself, the more time he wanted. He’d even found himself wondering whether he needed to attend Redford’s as often as he did in the evenings—something he’d once considered vital, reasoning that his members needed to see him to trust him.
Kit was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t realise he’d arrived home.
The door swung open before he could so much as place a finger upon it, and Tom stood in the doorway, grinning. Six foot one inch of pure muscle, his teeth flashing white, his perfect smile only very faintly marred—or perhaps perfected—by the slight crookedness of his left front tooth.
“What d’ye think, guv?” he asked Kit, blue eyes sparkling.
Kit blinked at him, not understanding. “What do I think of what?”
Tom huffed in exasperation. “The new livery!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the ensemble gracing his form: midnight-blue coat and breeches trimmed with dark-gold braid and large gold buttons.
“Oh, of course!” Kit said, stepping back to admire him more fully. “Oh, yes, Tom, that’s very handsome indeed. The dark blue is wonderful with your eyes.” He stepped forward to stroke the lapel of the coat, then clapped Tom on the shoulder and smiled. “Now you look the part.”