Page 4 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
Lord Herrington had noticed him already. There wasn’t a man in the room who hadn’t seen the Duke of Stormhold enter the gambling hell. Yet, the lack of concern, when Lucien wanted nervous trepidation, only irked him more.
Finally, Lucien stood up, aware of the eyes on him as he moved through the main hall. He strode over, and, finally, Lord Herrington looked up at him.
A hint of worry flashed across Lord Herrington’s face before it was quickly replaced by that nonchalance again. Several other noblemen at his table tried their luck with another round of cards, finding themselves losing constantly.
Lord Herrington was makingmoremoney off Lucien’s money.
Lucien’s jaw clenched, but he remained visibly unruffled.
Lord Herrington smirked up at him, no doubt already knowing why he was there.
“Ah, Your Grace. I did not expect you to join the festivities,” he joked, eliciting laughter from his friends, before tossing down another card.
Lucien watched with a raised eyebrow as the game continued, even as he loomed over the table.
“I have a debt to settle.” His eyes landed on Lord Herrington knowingly. “I am not here to gamble.”
He cocked his head, making the double meaning in his words clear—the Baron was not gambling with his own business or his own money.
“A debt?” Lord Herrington gasped dramatically. “Heavens, I do hope the poor man knows what he is in for if he is indebted to you.”
“Oh, I believe he does,” Lucien drawled, his voice low. “Is that not right, Lord Herrington?”
“I do not know what nonsense you speak of. Lord Graham, it is your turn to deal.” Lord Herrington glanced at another man—an earl’s son if Lucien remembered correctly—and then looked back at Lucien. “Truly, Your Grace, I do not know?—”
“I warned you about your part in the business we invested in,” Lucien hissed. “So, you may do this in front of your friends and have them see what a spineless coward you are while you cheat them out of money as well, or you can dismiss them, and you and I shall discuss.”
“I do notcheat,” Lord Herrington scoffed. “And my friends shall stay.”
“So be it.” Lucien braced his hands on the edge of the table, leaning towards the young Baron. “You have been holding out, taking more money than you are owed, and if you thought you would not be found out, then you are mistaken. It is time to explain yourself, Lord Herrington.”
“Explain myself?” Lord Herrington scoffed. “The only explaining I need to do is make you understand that I am inno?—”
“Do not insult me,” Lucien growled, his anger flaring. “You have takenmymoney, your share of the profits, and still have not returned what you owe for the initial investment. It was you who came to me, groveling, begging for a chance to make money when you inherited your title, was it not? Pay up, Herrington, or I will make sure you regret it.”
Sneering, Lord Herrington made to stand up, but Lucien immediately shoved him down.
Around him, coins dropped, and cards were shuffled, as if the men were trying to busy themselves so as not to be involved.
“Your Grace?—”
“Go ahead, run back to your estate. Run anywhere. But know this—I will find you,” Lucien threatened.
Lord Herrington attempted to escape once more, but Lucien snagged his wrist, pinning him to his chair.
Finally, the Baron’s face paled, and therewas that nervous look Lucien had been hellbent on seeing. Words could deceive, butthatwas the look of a guilty man, and Lucien reveled in the fact that their peers could see it.
“Pay your debt, Herrington, or you will leave here with more than a simply bruised ego.” His voice was a low growl, threatening.
Lucien knew that the Baron was imagining every worst-case scenario, every dark story about the Duke of Stormhold.
“Suddenly, I find myself in the mood for entertainment tonight, so I shall be staying at the Raven’s Den for a while. Do make smart decisions before I decide to leave.” He released the Baron with a disgusted shove. “Get your affairs in order. You have been given a chance, and you will not get another one.”
With one last warning look at Lord Herrington, Lucien stalked away, but not before flagging down one of the newer employees.
This new lot was part of the new assembly of guards for the Raven’s Den that the owner’s adopted son, Frederick Matthews, had hired ahead of him taking over the gambling hell.
“See to it that Lord Herrington does not leave this place until I have what is mine,” Lucien instructed.
