If that weren’t enough heartbreak for one man, there wasn’t an end in sight.
The next day, Heathcliff strode into his father’s study and found him slumped over in his chair. The doctor said it was his heart.
And in one week, Heathcliff had lost everyone.
Including himself.
He returned to London, finding that Lucas’s life had suffered a similar upheaval.
Ramsey was the last man standing.
But he too would fall.
It was only after they all survived the betrayal of others that they turned their efforts toward alienating the society that had made light of their pain.
When Lucas came up with the idea for the gambling hell, both Heathcliff and Ramsey were quick to throw their hats in on the idea. Titled, dedicated bachelors, it was time for them to enjoy life, instead of dwelling on the pain dealt so cruelly by the fates. Lucas’s idea had a name—a bloody insightful one.
Different than all the other gaming hells about London, this one would thrive on anonymity. No names. No faces. Masks and the uttermost exclusivity no other hell could boast. No strings attached, where your privacy was also your security, your pleasure.
Temptation.
Short, sweet, and directly to the point.
Because when you live in the moment of temptation, you’re too consumed to dwell on the past—and the ghosts that haunt it.
London, 1815
“I’m so very disappointed you will not be able to make the acquaintance of your new employer, Miss Miranda.” Lady Barrot’s clear blue eyes conveyed sympathy. She reached over and placed a gloved hand upon Miranda’s as they took their afternoon tea in the Barrots’ parlor.
Miranda—she practiced the name in her mind, wrapping her head around the new identity, and the necessity of taking it—nodded once. “I understand, Lady Barrot. It’s unfortunate, but it’s clear there are other implications one must consider.”Implicationswas a simple way to state it. In the past twenty-four hours, her life had changed significantly.
Viscount Kilpatrick was not only her new employer but the best friend of her sister’s new husband, Lord Heightfield. It was under that close connection she had secured a way to elude her tyrannical father, the Duke of Chatterworth, by taking on temporary employment under the protection of the viscount.
In hiding till the carriage to Edinburgh, Scotland, could convey her to safety, she was now in residence at the home of Lord and Lady Barrot, trusted friends and benefactors of her new brother-in-law’s clandestine business.She wasn’t quite sure of the details of said business venture, but she knew it was of the scandalous variety. So, she found herself in the sumptuous London parlor, awaiting the time when she could escape fully. In the interim, she was expected to meet the viscount, though they had just received a missive from his estate.
Several private investigators had questioned him earlier concerning the whereabouts of the duke’s missing daughters. It was paramount that he allay any suspicions they had. To be sure, Miss Miranda was surprised her father hadn’t alerted the local magistrate at the sudden disappearance of his two daughters, but as she considered it, he likely didn’t want to raise awareness of their absence. To not be in complete control was a cardinal sin.
So, rather than meet the viscount, the man behind so many of her sister’s stories, she simply accepted Lady Barrot’s word, and awaited the time when she could leave behind everything she’d ever known and seek the adventure she never had wanted to take.
But freedom was always the first choice of captives, and while her cage was gilded, it was still a cage. And for the first time, she was about to test her wings. Hoping that somehow, she would instinctively know how to fly.
And the place she was to test her wings was Scotland.
