Free Lynne Connolly by Maiden Lane Page A

I could drive him out of his mind, make him lose control. I was probably the only person alive who could do that. I wondered if I could do it without his consent, but so far he’d always proved willing. More than willing.
    “Go on. What did Pitt say then?” I reminded him.
    He sighed. “Pitt asked how you did, how Helen did, how my parents did and then how Gervase and Ian did. He made a great point of coupling Gervase and Ian. Society knows they are more than Member of Parliament and secretary, but people are working very hard not to notice.” Gervase had learned from earlier indiscretions. That, plus his wealth, made him eminently acceptable to society these days. But he and my brother were very much in love. “He thinks to expose them publicly if I don’t fall in with his wishes. As you’ve probably guessed, he wants Thompson’s as his own private spy service.” He undid another hook, his actions deliberate, but his fingers still bearing the tremor of anger. “I’ll disband it rather than that. Thompson’s is for nobody. First the Fieldings try to coerce us, then the politicians. All for their own ends. I will not have it.”
    Without pause I pulled the cord that held up my petticoat.
    I watched the spark of anger in his eyes fade, replaced by the glow of arousal. “He also mentioned John Kneller. He seemed to think I cared, but I speedily disabused him of that notion.”
    “What does he want? A share in Thompson’s?”
    My petticoat slid to the floor with a solid thump, leaving me in stomacher, under-petticoats, hoop and shift. He dealt with the last petticoat before he spoke again. “Something more specific. The Drurys.”
    I frowned. “They’re a threat to him?”
    “Oh yes. You know that infernal club they’ve set up in Maiden Lane?”
    I recalled it. “The Cytherean Club?”
    “That’s the one. They’re filling it with notable members these days.” A chuckle. “In more ways than one. They specialise in debauchery, particularly of the bondage and punishment kind. Some people like it.” I recalled an incident with silk cravats and fichus in our own personal history and shivered. His voice lowered. “As do we, on occasion. But not in the demeaning way they practice it. Many of their activities are conducted with others looking on.”
    It passed my understanding how people could engage in personal discourse with an audience. Perhaps I was just naïve, but I wanted Richard all to myself. Our personal life would remain just that.
    “So there are witnesses. And some of Pitt’s allies are enjoying the Drurys’ hospitality. Julia Drury has always had ideas about control.” He made a sound of disgust. Julia was probably one of the coldest people I’d ever met, and it went far beneath the surface. Richard’s cool, cynical veneer was just that—a veneer. Not so Julia’s.
    “She wants to control more than her father’s fortune. I wonder just how much of that fortune is left,” he mused, his fingers stilling on the strings of my hoop. “That aspect never occurred to me before, but with her father retired to the country and her husband’s lack of business acumen, they must be going through it at a fair rate. I shall certainly look into that.”
    He resumed his actions, his agile fingers making swift work of my remaining clothing. “Pitt wants me to look into the club. Join it, in fact.” His lip curled. “Not likely. But I know they have been making inroads recently, gaining more influential members. And at the moment Pitt needs all the support he can get. In the next few years it will be either him or Fox. Or maybe both. I’d prefer both, there would be more of a balance, but I fear Pitt has outgrown his erstwhile ally. It may be as well. The next leader will probably take us to war, and the country needs a strong, determined man.”
    “What of Hartington?” This was an interesting time in politics. With the death of Henry Pelham-Holles, the alliance between him and his brother, the