Langley’s horrified gaze whipped to him. “Rumors that I am . . . Dammit, my mother must be at it again.”
“So you are not in the market for a wife?”
“No.”
“Yet you plan to court Rebecca?” Wolfstan pressed.
“After the way the two of you bicker like man and wife? No. I was merely teasing a reaction from you.” Langley’s eyes strayed to the woman again. “Are you certain that is not Lady Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“Would you stake your life on it?”
“Dammit, Langley.” His gaze flicked to the woman. “Yes, I would stake my bloody—” A lock of flaming hair peeked out from the woman’s cloak. Wolfstan’s breath slammed back in his throat. He gripped the table to steady himself.
Rebecca. What the hell was she doing here?
His gaze drifted to her companion. And who the hell was she with? He narrowed his eyes on the fellow. Tawny hair fell onto broad, bulky shoulders, and two days’ growth of whiskers covered the man’s jaw. He looked rugged and windswept. Not the sort that kept the company of ladies.
“Who the hell is that with her?”
“If I am not mistaken,” Langley drawled, “that is Knightley’s manager, Alexander Lance. I thought he looked familiar.”
“The gaming hell Knightley’s?”
Langley nodded. “One of the less seedy clubs I have frequented of late. No prostitutes allowed.”
“Did it not fall under new ownership?”
“All cloak and dagger, yes.”
“What the hell would Rebecca be doing with a man such as the likes of Alexander Lance?” As far as Wolfstan knew, she did not gamble.
Langley shrugged. “While no women of the night are allowed, the club does cater to wealthier women who enjoy the rush. I believe they have separate quarters, though they aren’t mutually exclusive. It is possible that Lady Rebecca may have visited the club.”
Rebecca in a gambling den?
Wolfstan could not envision it.
What the devil have you gotten yourself into now, Rebecca Flowerdy? Wolfstan rose from his chair. He was about to find out.
***
“MR. LANCE.”
Rebecca took the seat opposite her club manager. Her gaze swept over the interior of the tavern. She had never been in the Queen’s Arms before. And for some reason, she had imagined it would be much scruffier. The tavern did not have much in clientele, but the dark furniture and the fire lit in the hearth gave it a comfortable feel. Almost cozy.
“Lady Rebecca, I trust you’ve been well.”
“Yes, thank you. How about you? Are you visiting your sister?”
He nodded. “She sends her regards.”
“Do tell Liza I shall visit soon. And I shall bring the lemon cakes she so dearly loves.”
Mr. Lance inclined his head. His eyes tracked the room. “The Queen’s Arms? An interesting choice of venue.”
“We can speak freely here. Your last letter sounded urgent.”
