His Reluctant Marchioness by Sorcha Mowbray

Author:Sorcha Mowbray [Sorcha Mowbray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amour Press
Published: 2022-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Lucifer gritted his teeth as yet another drunk stumbled into him and Amelia. How in the hell had she convinced him to bring her to The Devil’s Den? He reached over and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his body. He leaned in so he could speak into her ear. “Please let me take you back to my house and return here to ask our questions.”

She slid a glance at him, her nose tipping up in sheer obstinance. “No. I shall do this with or without you.”

He cursed silently in his head and reconsidered his original plan to lock her in his house. But despite the unsavory environment of the gambling hell nestled on the edges of Seven Dials, he knew he couldn’t do that. He should, but he couldn’t. He frowned. Another slovenly drunk staggered toward them, but this one had a more lascivious glint in his eye. As he stumbled toward Amelia, Lucifer shoved her behind him and reached out to slam a fist directly into the man’s face. The fool never saw it coming. As he collapsed in a heap on the ground, Amelia gasped, but Lucifer kept urging her past the man.

“Lucifer! That was unnecessary!” She kept glancing over her shoulder as he moved them toward the man he’d been looking for since they arrived.

“That was very necessary. If only for my peace of mind,” he growled. The man they’d come to this establishment to speak to stood off in a corner doing largely what he’d done while running Lucifer’s club. Nothing. He recognized the activity, or lack thereof. “Mr. Lewiston, a word if you please.”

The man in question straightened up and paled as he realized who had spoken to him. That knowledge satisfied the savage streak that ran through Lucifer. He didn’t tolerate cheats, liars, or thieves. Lewiston had turned out to be all three. “Lucifer.”

“That’s Mr. Lucifer to you.” Lucifer opened the note they’d been sent by Phineas and showed it to the gangly man. “Who had you deliver this note to Phineas Golden?” He swore his former employee’s knees were knocking.

The man blinked slowly. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize that letter.”

Lucifer growled and leaned in. “Try again. I matched your handwriting to some old invoices with your notes on them.”

The man paled but remained mute.

“Do not make me ask again.” Lucifer glared at the man.

“I-I—“

“Lewiston!” A pair of aspiring dandies sauntered over and ignored that Lucifer was currently speaking with the man. They circled around him, slapping him on the back and behaving as though they were long-lost friends. “Where’ve you been, old chap!”

“Excuse me. I was speaking to Lewiston, here.” Lucifer ground out through gritted teeth.

The two men looked at him in surprise, as though they hadn’t seen him when they brushed right past him. “Were you?” The one on the left asked.

“Listen here, old man. We were just saying hello to our old friend here.” The other one said as he patted Lucifer on the shoulder.

Lucifer grabbed the offending hand and bent it backwards until the man dropped to his knees as he cried out.

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