“You’d like it if these things weren’t aired. You’d prefer the members weren’t aware that the club’s bookkeeper, a viscountess, is now a patroness and how horrid that looks for the club and for all of us who are members. You’d also prefer they weren’t aware of the countless people who are denied membership—dukes and earls and people of import in our government. People who are welcome at Almack’s and belong to White’s. But they are shunned by the Phoenix Club.” She scoffed, cutting her hand through the air. “It’s a mockery as this club purports to be inclusive and not leave anyone behind. Balderdash!”

“Millie, you need to stop,” Evie whispered urgently. The members’ den had gone nearly silent in the face of the woman’s tirade.

“I do not.” Millie lifted her chin haughtily. “I am a respectable viscountess, my husband is a very important nobleman, and I am a patroness.”

At “respectable viscountess,” Evie clenched her jaw and moved toward the woman. She was not going to be allowed to insult Ada.

Grabbing her forearm, Ada pulled her back. “Don’t,” she murmured. “Lucien is coming.”

Evie turned her head to see Lucien stalking toward them, his eyes darker and angrier than she’d ever seen them.

“Lady Hargrove, if you will accompany me?” he requested politely, but with a sharp edge.

Millie looked him in the eye, fearless in the face of his ire—likely because she didn’t realize just how furious he was. “Say what you have to say here.”

“I will not. You may choose to accompany me, or you can leave. There is no third option for you.”

She stared at him another moment, her mind clearly churning. In the end, she strode past him without a word. Evie wondered if she was leaving.

Lucien followed Millie and inclined his head toward Evie indicating that she should come too. Outside the members’ den, they had their answer as Millie paused and looked at Lucien.

“In my office,” he said crisply, moving around her and opening the door to his suite. He waited for Evie to come inside, then closed the door.

“I will not apologize,” Millie declared, taking the offensive.

Lucien glowered at her. “I had hoped you would. You insulted Lady Warfield—a valued employee and patroness of the club. She is also your peer, whether you like it or not, and she deserves your respect, even if it’s manufactured.”

“How could you possibly have heard what I said?” Millie demanded, now taking a defensive posture as she folded her arms over her chest.

“I was on the other side of the members’ den. Perhaps you don’t realize how loudly you were speaking.” His eyes narrowed, and he added, “I find you are often incredibly unaware of yourself.”

Evie willed herself not to smirk.