“No, Vivi. The words are perfect. The writing itself is raw in a way that is completely honest. You’ve held nothing back here. You’ve put me in the alleyways and mews. You’ve given me a window into baby farming that even I had never peered through. Only the most callous will be able to read this and not be moved. It needs to be published.”
“Do you think so? Truly?”
“Truly. It needs to be read.”
With a tender smile, she took it from him. “I’ll send it out tomorrow.”
“Meanwhile, come with me to Gillie’s.”
As the hansom cab came to a stop in front of the Mermaid and Unicorn, Lavinia refused to let the sight of the building throw her back eight years—when she’d thought she was being so brave and bold to sneak out of the residence to come here with him. How she hadn’t known she’d be called upon to be even braver and bolder or how she would eventually fail in that endeavor.
He climbed out of the cab, then helped her down. His hand landed on the small of her back, guiding her forward, and she rather regretted she’d donned her cloak to ward off the chill of the night. A few people were hurrying along the street, some going into the tavern, others departing it. So much activity, so much life.
He opened the door, propelling her over the threshold as though aware she was having second thoughts, and followed her in. The smoky haze brought on by patrons puffing on their pipes or cigars burned her eyes. The mixture of fragrances assaulted her memories. Her father had smoked a pipe, and she’d loved the aroma. Her brother enjoyed an occasional cheroot. She fought so hard not to think of her family, not to recall more pleasant times when she’d thought herself happy.
But she didn’t know if she’d ever been as happy as the people here, talking and laughing, their din a cacophony of various tones to the ears. It was difficult to distinguish them all, not that it mattered. The only voice she truly wanted to hear belonged to the man standing next to her.
He began guiding her between tables toward the wooden counter, behind which kegs lined the shelves. She easily spotted Gillie, who was nearly as tall as Finn. Her red hair was cropped short. Lavinia had been appalled by her rebelliousness when she’d first met her, but now she had the fleeting thought it was a style that wouldn’t require nearly as much work to maintain. Perhaps she would shear her own hair.
Then she spied the Duke of Thornley and staggered to a stop. He was behind the counter, without a jacket, his sleeves rolled up, as he filled a glass with beer. Smiling brightly, he handed it off to a customer, turned, and bussed a quick kiss over Gillie’s cheek before turning his attention back to another patron. He was working as a barman, and she’d never seen him happier or more appealing. The last remnants of the guilt she’d been harboring over leaving him at the altar dissipated. Certainly, she couldn’t deny she’d handled the matter poorly, but he’d never have been as at ease if married to her.
Finn’s arm came around her back, his hand settling on the side of her waist. “Come on,” he urged. “They’ll welcome you.”
She wasn’t as confident as he was, but she did want to let Thornley know she was gratified to see him looking so joyous. Finn deftly worked their way between customers until they were both standing at the counter. Although for the first time since she’d begun this new life, she was very much aware of her tattered clothing, wished they’d waited until the seamstress had finished her work—then chastised herself for caring about appearances.
Gillie smiled at Finn, her grin momentarily faltering when she realized her brother wasn’t alone. She touched Thorne’s arm, jerked her head toward them. He turned. His eyes grew warm, his mouth curled up. With his duchess at his side, he approached. “Lady Lavinia.”
“Lavinia will do. I’ve cast off that aspect of my life. It seems you might be doing the same.”
He chuckled. “No, I just enjoy helping out from time to time. Gillie, have you met—”
“Yes, years ago. Finn, this is a surprise.”
“Vivi is my new partner,” he said without preamble.
Gillie’s hazel eyes widened. “What? In your club?”
“Indeed. We signed the papers today. Thought we’d come celebrate.”
“That’s an interesting turn of events.”
“What club?” Thornley asked.
“My brother has the notion that women are in need of a gambling hell.”
“It’s more than a notion,” Lavinia said, feeling a need to defend Finn against anyone who didn’t think he was going to make a success of himself. His siblings were successes in their own rights, but then they hadn’t been delayed from their pursuits by her father. “He’s making it happen, and I think the ladies are going to love it.”
He gently squeezed her waist, and her body instinctually moved nearer to him as though it had suddenly become metal shavings and he was a magnet. He’d always provided her with a protective shelter; only now she wanted to provide him with one.
His sister’s eyes seemed to be twinkling with approval, which was much preferred to the suspicion that had lurked there when she’d first caught sight of Lavinia. “Why don’t you find a table and we’ll bring you drinks.” She angled her head toward Lavinia. “Red wine, as I recall.”
She was impressed by her memory but was in the mood for something a bit stronger. “I’d prefer brandy if you have it.”
“What respectable tavern owner wouldn’t have brandy?” Gillie asked with a smile.
With the pressure of his hand, Finn guided her toward a square table near the rear of the room, where the din of others’ conversation was softer, less intrusive. He pulled out the chair for her, then settled into the one beside it. She started to tug off her gloves before remembering she wasn’t wearing any. She placed a hand on the table. He quickly covered it with his own.
“Were you defending me, Vivi?” he asked low, seductively.
