Of course. Nothing was ever simple with places like this and women like her.
“You have quite a reputation,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued, her gaze flicking between Blake and Reaper. “All of the late Dukeof Crane’s sons do. Dangerous ones. This could be quite useful to me in the future.”
Blake’s skin crawled. He didn’t like where this was going.
“In exchange for this... disruption,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, her voice dropping lower, “I will ask only for a favor. One that I may call to redeem at a time of my choosing.”
Blake’s stomach twisted.
A favor for Mrs. Dove-Lyon was no small thing. It could be anything—anything at all—and refusing her when the time came would be impossible if he accepted now.
“We accept,” Reaper said.
Blake glared at the man. “Who gave you permission to accept on my behalf?”
“I’m a son of the late Duke of Crane.”
Blake scowled, but he didn’t contradict the man. In any event, he wanted to walk out of this establishment, not be dragged out. “Very well,” he muttered. “One favor, to be called in at your discretion.”
The widow inclined her head. “Then the matter is settled,” she declared. “You are free to leave. All of you.”
Blake didn’t need to be told twice.
Without another word, he wrapped an arm around Rosilee’s waist and led her out of this Den of Disaster.
Chapter Seventeen
Rosilee felt arush of emotion as she followed Blake through the halls of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s Den. His grip was firm, protective, and she was grateful because her heart was still racing from all that had happened. When she first looked down over the balustrade and saw him staring up at her...
Lord, her heart.
He’d come for her.
He’d stormed in and come for her despite distancing himself from her. Despite telling her they had no future—that he was not the man for her. She still couldn’t entirely wrap her mind around what had occurred.
She’s my heart, my everything. And I won’t leave here without her.
Did he truly mean it? Or rather, did that mean he wouldn’t send her away again?
She snuck a glance at him.
No, he would not.
Whatever had happened after she’d left the townhouse had made him have a change of heart. Dear heavens! She wanted to leap into his arms, but behind them, she could hear Reaper’s footsteps following. She resisted the urge to glance back,focusing instead on the breathtaking presence of Blake beside her.
But if it hadn’t been forthatman...
Each time she had wanted to tell Mrs. Dove-Lyon her request, Reaper had interrupted her. He hadn’t given her a chance to speak up until the moment Blake had barged in. Which, now, she was rather grateful for. Only now did she truly understand that Mrs. Dove-Lyon did not show mercy!
A rush of brisk air met her the moment they stepped outside, a cleansing balm to the stifling smell of cigar that clung to the club. Blake released his hold on her just long enough to turn toward his horse, which had very efficiently been brought around and was waiting for them with a stable boy. He hoisted her sideways onto the saddle with ease, her skirts bunching awkwardly under her, but there was no time to adjust, except to try to twist mostly forward.
Wait, were they just going to . . .?
He mounted up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, securing her against him. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “Hold on.”
Rosilee gripped his arms, doing just that.
The horse lurched forward, hooves clattering against the uneven cobblestones. The movement jolted her, but she barely registered it. She couldn’t focus on the noise of the streets, the blur of the city around them, or even the narrow alleys they wound through—none of it mattered.
