She lifted her chin slightly, addressing Baston directly. “You presume much, sir, coming into my Den and thinking you can make demands. You seem to have forgotten thatIdecide the terms here.”
Baston’s smug grin faltered slightly, but he squared his shoulders, unwilling to back down. “I understand, madam, but this is about honor. About—”
Blake snorted.
What honor?
Mrs. Dove-Lyon raised a hand, silencing him with a single gesture. “Honor? In this place?” Her laughter was low, mocking, and it echoed ominously through the room. “This is not a gentleman’s club, sir. There is no honor here, only deals made, debts collected, and games played. And as for you,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued, her voice smooth as silk but carrying the weight of iron, “you have insulted me. You have made demands inmyestablishment, and that carries consequences.”
Blake could see Baston’s confidence waning, his pale face going even paler as Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words sank in.
“This is my domain,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “No one, not even you, Mr. Baston, leaves here without paying their debts. And your debt for this scene is now owed to me.”
Baston’s bravado faltered completely. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting toward the exit of the ladies’ gallery, but the guards at the doorway stepped up to block it. Back down the stairs, guards had also blocked the ways off the gambling floor.
“What are you saying?” Baston demanded.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon smiled beneath her veil. “I’m saying that you have crossed me, and there is always a price to be paid. You wanted a challenge? Very well. But now, should you lose, it will not be the duke or his brother you answer to—it will be me.”
Blake almost felt sorry for Baston.
Almost.
“Do you accept?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked, her voice deceptively gentle. “Or would you prefer to leave this matter unresolved and face my wrath now?”
Baston swallowed hard, but pride—or perhaps foolishness—forced him to shake his head. “I do not accept. Lady Rosilee—”
“Lady Rosilee nothing. She is under my protection.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon motioned to the men and in the next second, Baston was knocked out and dragged into another room through another door by the guards.
Rosilee gasped, and a murmur rippled through the room below, and Blake could feel the air shift, thickening with anticipation. The Lyon’s Den was no place for mercy. Baston, it seemed, had no idea what he had just walked into.
Neither did Blake, for that matter.
“Now,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned to Blake. “Shall we discussyourfee for causing a scene?”
Blake felt Rosilee tense beside him, her fingers tightening in his grip. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “What will you do with Baston?”
“Oh, do not worry,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “I shall strip him bare. You don’t have to worry about him in the future.”
Blake nodded.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s smile didn’t waver as she assessed him. “Oh, do not look so tense, Duke. You will not be handled the same way. Though you, too, have unsettled the careful balance of my establishment, I find your devotion to Lady Rosileeadmirable and a touch amusing. However, you will find that I do not indulge such commotions without cost.”
“I can see that,” he said in what he hoped was a polite tone. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was not a woman who offered mercy or favors out of kindness. Everything was a transaction. Christ, he hated this town. And this establishment didn’t even embody its darkest side.
Rosilee stepped forward, her chin held high. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I appreciate your protection, but Blake has done nothing wrong. If there is any fee to be paid, I will cover it.”
Instant protest welled in Blake even as his heart swelled. She was brave, far braver than she needed to be in a place like this, but this was not her battle to fight.
“No, I will pay it.”
The veiled widow stared at them. “Lady Rosilee, you misunderstand. This is not about who pays. This is about ensuring that all who enter my Den understand the weight of their actions. Your duke has caused a disruption, and that requires a resolution.”
Blake pulled Rosilee gently back to his side. “Name your price,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll pay it.”
A murmur rippled from below the landing, as if the crowd had been waiting for this very moment. Even though they couldn’t see much, everyone was listening in rapt attention. Blake scowled. These people thrived on the drama of the Den, the twisted deals, the games of power. But it had nothing to do with him.
“As I said, it’s not silver or gold I want. I deal in other currencies here. Power, favors, secrets.”
