Chapter 1
TWO YEARS LATER
“Where are you, Elliot?” she muttered under her breath.
Thalia drew her cloak about her as she approached the nondescript door set into a building on the side of the road. A lantern hung from above, casting her in a circle of pale-yellow light, and through the elegant windows, she glimpsed figures and heard raucous laughter.
The doorman standing by the door gave her a long, assessing glance, and Thalia opened her cloak enough to reveal her scandalous dress.
A lady did not venture into underground clubs—they did not even know about them.
A lady of the night, however, had entry practically anywhere.
The doorman nodded and opened the door, letting free a blast of hot air, sweat, the sharp tang of spirits, and the sour scent of wine, and Thalia entered.
The first room had been set up as, nominally, a gambling den, with tables holding various card games. A roaring fire stood in the center of the room, and several gentlemen sized each other up as though to fight.
Somewhere in this mess, according to her source, was Elliot.
Shoulders hunched, she made her way through the room, ducking free of reaching hands. Slurred curses followed her; she ignored them all.
Through an archway, she came to an entirely different room. The air was hazy with smoke. Gentlemen reclined on cushions, ladies leaning over them, dresses low and suitably busty.
I’d fit right in, Thalia thought wryly.
“Thalia!” Her name was delivered in a whisper, and a hand took hold of her arm, holding her surprisingly gently, considering the way he hauled her into a darkened corner of the room.
Mr. Elliot Calloway stood before her, slightly disheveled. His neckcloth was askew, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a new heaviness on his brow.
As she suspected, Elliot had debts to pay.
Thanks to her father, she knew all too well the burden of owing debts and the toll it could take on the man.
“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded.
Then, casting a furtive glance around the room, he took her arm once more and led her through a side door.
They emerged into an alley, the cobbles broken and grimy underfoot.
“That is to say,” he continued in a milder voice, “this isn’t the sort of place that’s appropriate for a lady such as yourself. ”
Thalia tossed the hood of her cloak back. “And what, pray, makes it appropriate for a gentleman such as you, Elliot?”
“Because, for starters, I am no gentleman.” He removed a cigar from his pocket and attempted to light it, but his hands shook too much, and he soon abandoned the attempt. “And because I have no choice but to be here.”
“Why? Do you owe someone?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He sighed and dragged his hand down the tip of his chin. “Either I win them back the money, or they will take it via more forcible means, but I fear I have never been a skillful gambler.”
“You ought to have told me!”
“Heavens, Thalia, for what purpose?” His eyes, bloodshot as they were, sharpened on her. “You might be my pupil, but that does not entitle you to chase after me as though I were a miscreant on the run from the law.”
Thalia planted her hands on her hips. “I thought we were friends.”
“So we are, but this isn’t the sort of business I would bother my friends with, either.” He cast another nervous glance at the club. “I’ll see you home, and we can discuss this tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She arched a brow. “You have been missing for four days, Elliot. If I leave you to your own devices, how long will you be missing for next? Will you ever return?”
She knew enough of the world to know that a man who lost everything often had no reason to return. If he lost his home… Heavens, she hardly knew if he could continue living in the fashionable side of London as it was.
“If you stay away, I will be forced to find a new sculpting master, you know, and that would be highly inconvenient.” She reached for the bag of money she had saved from selling her sculptures and handed it over.
“Would this appease them, at least for now? I have more at home, but for safety reasons, I hesitated to travel with too much on me.”
Elliot pushed at her hand, refusing the money. “I can’t. My pride won’t allow it.”
“Then you must conquer your pride as effectively as you have conquered your dignity being here,” Thalia said, pushing the money back at him.
“I would not have made this at all if you had not arranged the selling of my sculptures. In fact, I would not be a sculptor if it were not for you. I know you put your neck on the line continuing to teach me in private against my father’s wishes. ”
“I am an artist,” Elliot declared, “and I would not forsake art no matter its origins.”
“And I would not forsake a friend.” Thalia finally urged him to take the money. “Here. And then you may return to your studio, and I might receive instruction once again. You see, I am led by purely selfish desires.”
A tired smile cracked Elliot’s worn face, and in the dim light from the club, she was able to see the lines that nestled around his eyes and framed his mouth. Here, he looked every inch of his forty years, and she wished she could tuck him away and give him time to sober up and recover.
“You do not have a selfish bone in your body,” he said, but he accepted the money.
They turned to leave the alleyway just as three burly men filled the entrance. The dim light meant she could see very little about them, but the breadth of their shoulders was unmistakable.
“What do we have here, Calloway?” one of them sneered.
“Gentlemen!” Elliot spread his hands, attempting to step between her and the men.
“I have just acquired the funds needed to pay off my debt. You will be as relieved to hear it as much as I am; you have, no doubt, witnessed my abysmal attempts at gambling.” He tossed the bag at one of the men.
“My debt is paid, and we have no further need to interact. I should escort this lady home.”
The first thug passed the money bag to the second, and for a moment, Thalia thought they might escape without incident.
She ought to have known better.
The first thug looked back at her and Elliot, and even from this distance, she could see the way his lip curled. “That don’t look like no lady.”
“The double negative you invoked proves that, in fact, she does,” Elliot said.
Thalia sighed, pushing between them. When inebriated, Elliot would be worse than no help. “We have paid the debts, good sirs. Please allow us to leave untainted.”
“Untainted, you say?” The man’s snigger sent ice down Thalia’s spine. “I’m not sure we can promise that to a pretty thing like you. Our patron has asked us to teach Calloway a lesson, and all the money in the world ain’t going to change our minds.”
“Please.” Thalia glanced behind her, but there was nothing save a wall she suspected they would never be able to climb over.
Nowhere to run except past the thugs.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
Elliot grabbed her arm, muttering under his breath. “When they start on me, go through that side door and exit through the front,” he hissed, his breath thick with the scent of wine. “Then run, do you hear? And don’t look back.”
Fear made Thalia want to nod; defiance made her want to hold her ground and teach these thugs a lesson.
Unfortunately, she had nothing with which she might achieve such an aim.
In desperation, she removed a hairpin from her tresses and held it between her knuckles. If she were lucky, she might get in one good strike.
One thing was for certain: she would not leave Elliot to his fate. They had taken her money! The audacity of doing that, then attempting to attack them anyway, could not be borne.
“If you touch that woman, you will regret it,” a deep voice said from behind the thugs.
They froze, and Thalia frowned. She could have sworn she’d heard that voice before—but from where?
“If you have the money you were seeking, be gone with you,” the familiar voice continued.
The lead thug hesitated, as though debating whether to take the matter further. Even with this new addition, they were three against three, and Thalia could not consider herself a significant threat.
Their savior stepped into the meager light, and Thalia’s jaw dropped.
It was none other than the Duke of Marrowhurst, her former fiancé.
Her almost-husband.
She would recognize that face anywhere. The Duke was the rugged, overwhelmingly masculine type of handsome that contrasted with the more urbane gentlemen she had become accustomed to seeing and dealing with. He dominated every space he entered, including this one.
The thug turned his attention from her to this new threat, and to Thalia’s horror, threw a quick punch. She cringed, expecting the blow to hit, but the Duke threw up one hand, catching the brute’s fist against his forearm and striking with his other.
Thalia was no expert at fighting, but she knew the moment the thug’s head snapped back, and he staggered that the fight was over.
The other two men fled.
Cowards, Thalia thought.
The leader would have turned to run as well if the Duke had not grasped him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.
“Do not ever come anywhere near this woman or her companion again,” the Duke said, his voice a gravelly rasp that conveyed threat and danger so successfully that Thalia felt her insides twist.
“Yes, sir,” the man babbled. “I won’t.”
The Duke dropped him, and the thug fled.
If Thalia had been a different woman, one prone to hysterics, she might have been tempted to indulge. As it was, she straightened her spine and raised her chin.
The Duke watched her with dark eyes, making no attempt to approach.
Does he even recognize me?
Perhaps not. One could be forgiven for forgetting a lady they had only officially met once, even if that once was in his library as she begged him not to marry her.
Perhaps it would be better if he did not recognize her after all.