Rosilee jerked everytime the cobbles cracked beneath her footfalls as she approached the establishment that would determine her future.
The Lyon’s Den.
And Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
She had heard the whispers of this name from Evangeline’s lips as though it could not be said out loud. So long as she could pay, Evangeline had told her, Mrs. Dove-Lyon could help. Rosilee would rather not marry at all, but with Baston hot on her heels, she didn’t have any choice. And if she could not marry a man she loved, she would marry a rogue she could never love. Her position, her heart, and her brother would be safe.
Simple as that.
She cursed Baston again. How dare he trick her brother and put them in such a horrid situation, all because he wished to marry her? When this was over, she truly wanted to pummel the man.
Don’t think about it, Rosilee.
Evangeline had told her some terrifying tales about these matchups Mrs. Dove-Lyon created—though they were mostly terrifying for the men. But if Rosilee didn’t receive her aid, herfuture would be even more terrifying than any of those tales. It was already terrifying.
She stopped in front of the side door of the address she’d been given. This was the door Evangeline had told her to enter. This was it. This was the moment.
You can do this, Rosilee.
She squared her shoulders.
When life offered a woman no other resource, she had to be resourceful. Rosilee didn’t have much. The coin she could offer Mrs. Dove-Lyon was everything she had at her disposal. Hopefully, it would be enough.
From within the building, she could hear peals of laughter as well as some curses. The street wasn’t abandoned by any means, since it was the afternoon, but Rosilee paid no mind to anything but her focus point. She had delayed long enough. Had been delayed long enough. The journey from Wiltshire had been fraught with one delay after another.
Her driver had disappeared.
Her horse had been stolen.
And her carriage wheel had broken.
Then Blake.
He’d been the biggest delay of them all. The most painful one.
But no matter the challenge, she had made it this far, and she couldn’t back down now. A tremor passed through her fingers. This was not how she would have wanted her future to be decided. Not that she had hoped for much to begin with. A simple life with her books had always been the most appealing picture she could conjure for herself. After their night together, she had begun to hope that Blake would also enter this little image.
Unfortunately, life had different plans.
She stepped up to the door and reached out for the knocker.
“Lady Rosilee.”
Rosilee paused, turning to the man who had called her name, thoughcalledwasn’t right either. It was an announcement in a low, grim tone that was infused with a certain familiarity that shouldn’t exist. It piqued her interest but also sent a shiver down her spine. Their eyes met, and that one shiver turned into two.
She didn’t recognize the man at all, and yet he looked awfully familiar. He stood tall and large, with black hair and even blacker eyes, if that were at all possible. It must be the light, she thought. His face was chiseled with hard, cold lines, and his jaw cleanly shaven. A scar crossed one of his brows.
She looked a bit like...Blake.But also positively menacing.
“Do I know you, sir?”
He stared at her without blinking, and no answer to her question showed on his face. “I suppose you do not.”
“Then...” Her mind raced. “Do you know me?”
“I . . . know of you.”
Well, that wasn’t reassuring in the least. “And you are, sir?”
