I didn’t want to be a boy. I enjoyed the freedom that came with pretending to be one, but I adored being authentically myself even more. Andthisgirl wore what she wanted, built what she wanted, and loved who she wanted. For the first time in my life, I feltfree…and the one person with whom I wanted to share that pivotal truth loathed me.
“Where to first?” Klaus asked, making me jump. “We don’t know this area of London very well.”
“Good thing I do, lads. Watch and learn,” Blake said, leaning back and stretching his long arms.
I frowned at the way the twins were gawking at Blake as if he were some kind of idol and immediately shook my head. Nothing good could come of the three of them together, but right now, we needed to find Tarik.
“There’s a tavern near Seven Dials,” I said hesitantly. “Blue awning. We could check there.”
Blake shook his head. “I don’t even want tohearhow you know about that place. It’s a hellhole. Why would he go there?”
“He told me about it once,” I fabricated. The chances that he would be there were low, considering the circumstances of how we’d been chased away last time, but I had to make sure, to cross it off the list.
When the carriage finally slowed in front of the familiar building, I bit my lip. I was Lady Rosalin the last time I’d been here and would likely not be recognized in my guise as a young lord, but it would put a damper on things if I were. Ansel and I did look uncannily alike, which could putthisversion of him in trouble if those men were still seeking their pound of flesh.
“Blake,” I said quietly, pulling his arm as he went to descend the carriage steps after the twins. “I can’t go in with you.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you that,” I said.
“Can’t or won’t?”
I sighed. “Both, but suffice it to say that the female side of me might be persona non grata here.”
His eyes widened as my words registered. “Rosalin! Tell me you didn’t!”
“Fine, I’ll tell you I didn’t. Scold me later, please,” I said, shoving him out of the coach. “Check the gaming tables.”
“You are in alotof trouble, young lady,” he said, and then grinned. “Only with me, though, because I would never break our sacred trust, but you must tell me everything or…I’ll spill all your sordid secrets like a cracked teapot.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Go! And Blake?” He turned as I stuck my head out the coach door. “Donotcorrupt the twins, or I swear I won’t forgive you.”
His lip curled into a smirk. “But just look at them, they’re adorable! And there’s two! Don’t be stingy.”
“No,” I said sternly. “Or the only tea spilling toeveryonewe know will be yours.”
“Spoilsport.” He pouted.
Blake and the twins disappeared into the tavern. Settling back against the velvet seat, I waited and pondered on any other places that Tarik might visit, especially here in the West End. Wasn’t there another gambling place that Blake had mentioned when he was talking about liking Tarik’s proposal? Danforth’s something or other.
My frown deepened as I realized I recognized the name from Zia, of all people, in passing. The place was owned by the father of one of her classmates from her finishing school, Blythe Danforth. Zia had laughingly told us a story of dressing up as a dandy once to infiltrate the place, where she’d almost been discovered by Rafi, who had been a member there. Chances were that Ansel might be a member there as well, since all his mates were.
I knocked on the roof to the carriage. “Hobarth,” I called out in a deep voice. “Do you know where Danforth’s Den is?”
“Yes, sir. It’s at the end of Piccadilly. Not far, about half a mile.”
I thought about walking the ten or fifteen minutes, then reconsidered. I wasn’t armed, and dressed like this, I was asking for trouble from cutpurses. “Will you ferry me over there in a dash and return for Lord Blake and the boys?” I asked. “They might be awhile.”
“Of course, sir.”
Blake would be furious, considering I was alone, but Ansel always said it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. The ride to Danforth’s was quicker than I expected. I hopped out of the carriage and walked confidently to the entrance, where a small crowd of people were waiting. Mostly men, I noticed. I kept my head angled down and my lips flattened.
The burly man at the entrance eyed me up and down, clearly marking that I was a gentleman of means. “Member?”
My nerves shook. “Lord Ansel Chen,” I growled, hoping for a miracle that I wasn’t wrong.
The man consulted a leather-bound notebook, his brows pulling low. He flicked page after page, and for a moment, I was worried. But then the man grunted. “Right on through, my lord.”
