Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Olsen Adley nursed his third glass of brandy, staring dolefully past the gambling tables to the club door.
He had been ensconced in White’s, the most esteemed private gentleman’s club in London, since the early evening.
Now the hands of the golden carriage clock above the fireplace ticked towards two in the morning.
Adley moaned softly to himself, head in his hands.
It would not be long before this reputable establishment refused him at the door.
Once they heard of his insurmountable debts, Le Beau Monde would reject him, his creditors would be contacted, and a jail sentence would follow quickly on their heels.
Unless he could miraculously dig himself out of it.
That’s what he was here for: He was in pursuit of a miracle.
“Speak of the devil! Lucifer, how have you been, old chap?”
Adley’s head shot up, staring blearily in the direction of the voice.
In the doorway of the gaming parlor stood a slightly drunk patron, leaning his corpulent form against the arm of a tall, dark gentleman with a profoundly disturbing aura.
There he was, in the flesh, the legend he had been seeking: Lucifer of London.
He watched tentatively as Lucifer's right-hand man, a shorter, athletic Italian he vaguely recalled as being named Giovanni pushed the drunken punter away from his master and cleared the way for Lucifer to descend.
A poker table was made available, the current players cleared with a dark glare, and Giovanni ushered in suitable opponents.
Adley recognized that they were all stern and mysterious men of business with hard reputations and even harder poker skills.
He knew he would have no hope at a table like that, but he had no choice.
He unsteadily rose from his leather chair and licked his dry lips before approaching cautiously.
“Who are you?” Giovanni asked, stepping in his path.
“Marquess of Willington.” Adley tried to straighten up. “I seek an audience with…” he swallowed hard. “Lucifer.”
Giovanni crouched next to Lucifer’s ear to murmur, “Mr Klane, the Marquess of Willington seeks an audience.”
At first, Adley was confused but then remembered that even the legendary dark king of London had a real name: Silas Klane, though it seemed rarely used.
Adley tried not to let his hands shake as he took a seat next to Lucifer.
He was an uncommonly tall, well-built man with dark brown hair that he wore greased down and black eyes under heavy black brows.
He had an unsettling scar on his jaw, suiting his deadly reputation.
No one in London knew exactly how the man had accumulated his vast fortune.
After all, he had no family of significance, only a sister he kept away in the country, and no title at all.
Yet he was never refused entry to any ball, gentleman’s club, or even the court of the Prince Regent. No one said no to Lucifer.
“What is it you want, marquess?”
Adley almost jumped. He swallowed hard. Lucifer’s voice was sharp as a knife, but it was refined: the deadly tone of a predator.
“I want your help.”
“Oh? What could you offer me? Your investment portfolio is worthless.”
Adley flushed. “A person cannot devalue like an investment.”
The look Lucifer gave him was truly terrifying. “I do not trade in human flesh.”
“No, no, that is not what I mean!” Adley hastily back-peddled.
He remembered, with horrifying clarity, that there had been rumors that Lucifer had made a large portion of his fortune as a mercenary on the Continent, a murderer for hire. He felt he could see death in those black eyes.
“I have a d-daughter,” Adley stuttered out. “A rare beauty of marriageable age,”
Adley fumbled in his coat pocket for the miniature portrait his daughter had given him inside a gold locket. He opened it and set it before Lucifer’s hands, her angelic face in clear view. Lucifer’s eyes paused, settling carefully on the exquisite picture.
“How old is she?”
“Five and twenty.”
“Too old.”
“Not yet, she will still breed,” Adley rambled. “And her beauty has only increased with her womanhood. Her hair curls that way naturally, her skin is truly porcelain, her eyes as green as summer leaves?—”
“Such beauties are rarely unplucked.” Lucifer pushed the locket away. “I have no need of another man’s seconds.”
“Not my Anna.” Adley pushed the locket closer again. “She is as pure as the driven snow. With a title and inheritance like mine, and my only child, sh-she would suit you well.”
Lucifer laughed. “If she really is as fine as you say, what could possibly be worth such a loss?”
“Settle all of my debts,” Adley blurted it out. “Give me enough to live on. You can have her, and I will never ask or question your rule of her. She will be yours… entirely.”
“How much is your debt?” Lucifer blew smoke in his face and Adley forced himself not to cough.
“Ten thousand pounds,” he whispered.
Lucifer nodded. Adley saw that he wasn’t surprised.
He already knew the debt, and likely had known this was the reason Adley had sat down and was only toying with him.
Adley felt a surge of helpless rage. There was nothing he could do with it except stare at the man, willing him to accept the offer.
“Will you have more children?” he asked finally.
“No. My wife is unwell.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Lucifer leaned closer.
“You would need to sign a legal document to say that any progeny your daughter produces will automatically inherit the title of Marquess of Willington. Would you ensure that any child you had, any male bastard that might be lurking around, would not be able ever to inherit? That instead, your title will defer to your daughter’s progeny? ”
“You are asking me to sign over my title?” Adley jerked back.
“Do not worry.” Lucifer gave him a chilling smile. “You would retain the title until your last breath. After that, however, my child would bear it. And all of my line afterwards. On those terms.” Lucifer extended his hand. “Do we have an accord?”
Adley’s name, the name that had borne the title of Marquess for generations, would die out entirely.
He closed his eyes against it. It did not matter, he realized painfully.
His name had already died out. It had died with his only son.
This was only the nail in the coffin. Sighing heavily, he extended his hand.
“You have an accord, Lucifer.”