Page 25 of A Raven Reborn

A moment later, the carriage rolled to a stop. “For this part, you’ll have to put your hood up and keep your head down.”

“How am I supposed to see where I’m going?”

“Just take my hand, and I promise not to lead you into a wall.” Patrick winked, and her stomach fluttered as if in response to a command.

She pulled the voluminous hood from behind her and accepted Patrick’s hand as she alighted. They had stopped at the entrance to a dark alleyway.

“Head down,” Patrick said quietly.

It was difficult not to disregard him and throw the hood back. A cacophony of commotion and shouts echoed in the distance, daring her to do that very thing. Patrick wanted whatever this was, to be a surprise, and for some reason, she longed to indulge him, so she obeyed him and stared down at the cobblestones beneath their feet as they moved forward and around the corner of a building. Patrick stopped suddenly, and she walked straight into him.

“I thought you weren’t going to lead me into any walls?” He didn’t respond, not even his usual chuckle, but there was the unmistakable sound of a key scraping in a lock. He was taking her into The Raven’s Den. She looked up at him, a smile stretching her lips.

“Head down.” His tone was a bit more urgent this time.

“I’m afraid you’ve rather tipped me off. There can’t be very many places where you have your own key.” Finally, it was her turn to wink. “I hardly think the hood—” The rest of her sentence was cut off when he pulled the hood down over her face. Swinging the door open, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and bundled her quickly inside. The door closed with a heavy thud behind them followed by the lock, once more. Finally, he lifted her hood.

“Was that truly necessary?” She looked up at him, annoyed.

“Yes.” He playfully tapped the end of her nose. “The hood wasn’t to protect my secret. It was to preserve your anonymity.”

“But why?” Rosalyn still didn’t understand, and the look that Patrick gave her was, frankly, a bit condescending. She folded her arms across her chest.

“This isn’t the sort of place frequented by respectable women, I’m afraid.”

Rosalyn burst out laughing and looked around her. “I don’t see any women here who need to be concerned about their reputations.”

Patrick shook his head with a sigh and placed his hands on her shoulders. “The gossip rags have people keeping a close eye on the comings and goings here, and I’d rather they didn’t see you. Now, would you like to keep questioning me in the back hallway, or would you like to see a bit more of my club?”

“Oh, you patronizing… grr.” Rosie scowled at him.

Patrick blinked twice and then roared with laughter. “Did you just growl at me?”

“Perhaps.” Rosalyn stuck her tongue out at him, and he just laughed all the more.

“Come on, imp.” He nodded forward, and she started walking. At the end of the hall he held aside a black velvet curtain as she moved through.

Rosalyn’s jaw dropped. Whatever she had expected The Raven’s Den to look like, this was not it. Light poured in from the skylights in the ceiling two stories up, illuminating the cavernous space. Of course, it wouldn’t have been illuminated the same way at night, but it still in no way resembled the dark, dingy, closed in space she’d imagined a gaming hell to be. Nearly everything in the room was plush and luxurious. Even the carpets were soft and welcoming as they moved further into the room.

Rosalyn ran her hand over the back of one of the velvet chairs surrounding a large oval table made of rich mahogany.

“That’s our table,” Patrick said with a nod.

Rosalyn gave him a sideways glance. “I thought they were all your tables.”

“They are, but this is the one where the three of us hold our weekly meetings.” He patted the tabletop.

“Why this one?” she asked, looking around at the countless other tables.

“It isn’t a gaming table.” He shrugged. “I mean, it sees its fair share of poker, but it isn’t designated as such.”

“Do people come in for things other than gaming?” Rosalyn didn’t realize the implication in those words until they were out of her mouth. Was it possible there were other entertainments to be had at The Raven's Den? Perhaps of the female variety? It certainly didn’t feel anything like Maison Rouge, but she was hardly an expert on the subject.

Patrick shrugged. “Sometimes men just want to discuss business or have a drink in luxurious surroundings.”

“Mm-hmm.” Rosie waited for more details of what a man might do here.

“And this one is the most comfortable.” He said, instead, and pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit in. The chair welcomed her into its arms with its plush softness.

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