Anthony frowned. That much responsibility did indeed sound more like the security measures of a gaming hell than the fun-filled soirées of a careless rake, as Anthony had always imagined. Then again, he supposed that a masked ball of that caliber could be seen as the very definition of a den of iniquity. Accepting the invitation was a shockingly high wager indeed.
“How do you do it?” he asked. “How do you keep track of so many people?”
“I can’t.” Lambley sipped his port. “When I held my first masked soirée, I invited perhaps two dozen friends. It was diverting and easy. As my notoriety grew, so did the demand for invitations. My presence is needed amongst my guests, but I cannot mingle in the primary salons and guard the front door at the same time. My butler currently has that task.”
Anthony thought back. The party itself had been so much more interesting than the mundane act of surrendering his umbrella and greatcoat that he hadn’t given the process another thought. But now that he did… “I seem to recall him allowing entry to one person at a time. He took my invitation and jotted something down in a little book.”
Lambley inclined his head. “The registry of invited guests contains the date, name, and identifying mask features of every person who attends the ball. To date, there have been no grave issues, but in the event that something untoward should occur, it is vital to have the ability to ensure there are consequences.”
Anthony nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“Using my butler as an enforcer seems logical. He is a trusted member of my staff, and answering doors is one of his primary duties. However, it offers him very little opportunity for sleep. He must be at his post by daybreak for his regular duties, yet masquerade nights also tend to last until daybreak.”
Anthony frowned. Working more than twenty-four hours in a row was an unhappy circumstance in any profession. Yet hiring a new staff member would mean entrusting the identities of guests who were jealously guarding their anonymity to an untested servant without the butler’s years of experience and trust.
Hope prickled his skin. “Am I to understand that you are offering me employment?”
“The common knowledge you dismissed so easily is the only reason I am considering it,” Lambley said blandly. “I have had instances of stolen or forged invitations. If Lady X tells my butler that she is Mrs. Y, he will simply note it in the journal and allow her entry. You, however, would not be so easy to fool. You are likely to have made the acquaintance of both Lady X and Mrs. Y, and would be able to put paid to that nonsense at the door.”
The duke was right. Anthony’s hopes rose. Under the right circumstances, his social position bridging two worlds was an advantage, not a disadvantage.
“Furthermore,” Lambley continued, “I have known you for two decades. You may not be trustworthy with a loose shilling, but the entire ton fully trusts in your character. You would never betray a confidence. When Lady X sees it is you at the door, she will not feel any less comfortable sharing her name than she does relinquishing it to my butler.”
“There must be a catch.” Anthony straightened. “It sounds as though I would be perfect for the role.”
“You are. The role, however, may not be perfect for you. Not only would you bear responsibility for tracking every single identity without ever breathing a hint of that intelligence, but the guests themselves will also be aware of your identity. It shall not require but a moment for all of London to know that Mr. Anthony Fairfax is now the paid night butler at the Duke of Lambley’s masked balls.”
Anthony’s stomach bottomed at the implications. Accepting this lifeline would mean severing ties with a world he loved. The only life he’d ever known. The sort of future he’d imagined himself living. By accepting such scandalous employment, his societal standing would be ruined.
And as his wife, Charlotte would suffer the same fate.
The duke didn’t change expression. “Being in my employ is more than merely scandalous. If you take this position, you will no longer bridge both worlds. Your reputation amongst the smart set will be ruined forever.”
Anthony squared his shoulders. He didn’t care about the smart set anymore. He cared about setting things right. He cared about Charlotte. This was his sole chance to provide for her. To be there for her. Only a fool would say no.
“I’ll do it,” he said without hesitation.
“Then I shall have a contract drawn up at once.” Lambley’s eyes glittered. “I will settle your account with Gideon only after you’ve completed your first night to my satisfaction. If at any time you default or fail to meet your obligations as specified in the contract…” The duke’s tone was harsh and final. “You will not recover from the consequences.”
Anthony nodded. He couldn’t think about consequences. Failure was not an option. But even this opportunity might not happen. Not if his debts wouldn’t be addressed until he completed his first night. He tried to swallow his panic. “When is your next ball?”
“Saturday.”
His shoulders sagged with relief. There might still be time. “I must repay Gideon by Monday.”
“How much do you owe? Write it for me so I can pay the precise amount.” He gestured at a quill and ink on the sideboard.
Cheeks flushing, Anthony forced himself to write two thousand and forty pounds, thirteen shillings, sixpence and handed Lambley the damning paper. There in black and white, the sum seemed astronomical…and he felt incredibly foolish.
“I see.” Lambley returned the paper to the table. “Let’s talk terms, shall we? Given the highly sensitive nature of the information you’re protecting, I will pay you quite handsomely. But until you have paid off your debt, all monies earned shall be placed against the principal. Two thousand pounds is not a sum I invest lightly. It may take a full year until you repay your debt or receive a single penny to take home. Are you amenable to these stipulations?”
Anthony nearly melted in gratitude. The terms were leagues better than a lifetime in prison. Earning that much money in a single year was more than anyone of his stature could have dreamed. Paying off his debt before he took home a penny was only fair. And the following year! Once he did take home his salary, he could finally treat Charlotte to the life she deserved. This time next year, they could be safe.
If he lost his reputation in the process, so be it. If the loss of his reputation meant the loss of his friends, so be it. He would have an opportunity to stay with Charlotte, and she was all that mattered.
But to be able to keep her and his freedom, he would have to vanquish his reckless impulse to gamble for an entire year. The smallest slip-up would ruin everything. He could not let that happen.
Worse, the woman he loved had spent her entire life fighting to be considered respectable. He could not destroy the progress she’d made. In fact, she would be well within her rights to annul marriage to a man who harmed her reputation—and ruined her chance for a better future. His skin went cold.
What if his only chance to stay out of prison caused him to lose Charlotte anyway?
He couldn’t tell her. Not yet.
Chapter 21
Sunday morning, Charlotte watched the rising sun with growing alarm from the bay window of the Fairfax townhouse.
Anthony hadn’t told her where he was going. He’d said he didn’t want to worry her or to give her false hope, but that he would be back by daybreak—possibly with good news.