Page 77 of Lady Gambit
“A man who loves you. A man who isn’t afraid to hit Aaron.” Mrs Maloney handed her a silk dressing gown, her eyes shining with warmth and kindness. “Someone who’s spent a lifetime alone. Someone who would thrive in a family of like-minded men.”
An image of Dorian attending their daily meeting flashed into her mind. Mrs Maloney was right. He was strong enough to tolerate Aaron’s scrutiny. He wasn’t afraid to voice his opinion.
The question was, would Aaron let her go?
Their family home was emptying slowly.
How would Aaron cope when left alone with his memories?
“Hurry now.” With nimble fingers, Mrs Maloney tied the belt on Delphine’s dressing gown. “They’re only half an hour ahead. Go get your boots. Mr Gibbs is waiting downstairs with the carriage.”
“Mr Gibbs is still here?”
Thank the Lord! The man drove like wolves chased his heels.
“He’s tasked with protecting you. If there’s one thing I know about Mr Gibbs, the King himself couldn’t deter him from his mission.”
A sudden wave of relief had her tugging Mrs Maloney’s hand. “Come. We should not delay.” She noticed Mrs Maloney was still in her nightdress. “We need to fetch your coat. It’s cold out, and?—”
“You’re going alone, dear. This is your battle, not mine.” Mrs Maloney pulled an ornate iron key from her pocket and thrust it into Delphine’s hand. “Take this. Aaron gave it to me incase there was trouble in the bookshop. With luck, you’ll reach Fortune’s Den before he throws the first punch.”
That was wishful thinking.
Dorian’s carriage was parked on the street outside Fortune’s Den, and Briggs was snoozing atop the box. The gaming hell door was locked. The soft glow of candlelight spilled from the window in Aaron’s study, but she peered inside and found the room deserted.
She hammered on the front door and tugged the iron bell pull. Using the key was a last resort. When encountering a figure in the dark corridors, Sigmund was trained to hit first and ask questions later.
Where was their man-of-all work? He was always the last to retire, which meant only one thing. He was in the basement.
Her hand shook as she slipped the key into the lock. Once inside, she hurried through the lavish red hall. The scent of aromatic oils disguised the stench of stale tobacco but did little to settle her nerves.
The basement door was ajar, and Aaron’s devilish taunts echoed from the vast room below.
“I’m impressed, Flynn. Few men manage to land a punch, let alone last a round. The key to success is believing you can win. You certainly have faith in your own ability. I admire that.”
“This is one fight I can’t afford to lose,” Dorian countered.
Her heart skittered upon hearing Dorian’s confident voice. She raced down the stone staircase into the candlelit cellar.
Both men stood in the sunken circular pit resembling a small gladiatorial arena. Their elbows and knees were flexed, their clenched fists raised like human mallets. They had stripped to their trousers. A sheen of sweat coated their foreheads and bare chests. While Dorian’s scars littered his broad back, Aaron’s covered his muscular torso.
Theo and Sigmund were the only spectators. Both sat on a wooden bench, drinking brandy and goading the contenders.
“If he was fighting any other man, I’d put my money on Flynn,” Sigmund said before downing a mouthful of liquor. “Happen if he shifted his stance, he might give Mr Chance a good crack on the chin.”
“Aaron is merely toying with him,” Theo countered.
“Stop this nonsense!” she cried.
All four men looked at her. No one appeared shocked by her sudden arrival. Dorian’s gaze slid over her loose hair and nightclothes, a smile touching his lips.
It was evident she’d been in a hurry to reach him.
When a lady promised to protect a man, she meant it.
She descended the three small steps into the ring, strode over to Aaron and braced her hands on her hips. “Your argument is with me, not Mr Flynn. If you must blame anyone, blame me. I kissed him first.”
“I was a heartbeat away from kissing you,” Dorian replied.
