It would be a painful lesson for the lady, but one that might not cost her everything. He vowed to find a way to give her back whatever money she lost this night. It wouldn’t gain her the registry, but it would minimize the damage. It also meant that Aaron would have to stand stoically by her side while her dream was destroyed.
It was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Chapter Thirteen
Lord Kittrel utterlydisagreed with her plans. That much was clear. But he didn’t stop her. He allowed her to express her opinion, and—this was the best part—he vowed to stand with her despite his utter disagreement.
This was a man she could trust. She entered the Lyon’s Den gaming hell with a buoyancy to her step. She was taking a chance on her future, and that felt exciting in a way nothing else had for a very long time. She wondered briefly if this was how her mother had felt before every performance. Had her belly tightened with excitement while her heart pounded in her throat? Lilah’s cheeks flushed, and her hands pressed against her stomach, but she walked with firm purpose up the steps of the den.
They were stopped at the door by a large man with a scar running through his right cheek, and that gave him the look of an angry dog. But his tone was bored when he spoke to them.
“Women’s door be around the corner,” he said as he pointed.
She smiled. “Yes, but I’m looking for a man. Mr. Dalbert Palmer. I’m told he’s here most nights.”
The man didn’t even blink. In fact, his gaze lifted over hers to Lord Kittrel. “Women’s door around the corner.”
He was dismissing her, but she refused to budge. “And will I be able to find Mr. Dalbert Palmer in the women’s area?”
“No.”
“Then why would I go there?”
His gaze returned to her. “Because yer a woman, and we don’t like any fracas here. Find him somewhere else.”
“I don’t intend to make a fracas.” She reached into her purse. “Perhaps I could convince you—”
“I don’t take bribes either. Mrs. Dove-Lyon would toss me out for it, and I like it here.”
Well, hell. She could admire the man’s ethics, but that wasn’t going to help her get inside. Then Lord Kittrel stepped forward.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon does enjoy a certain kind of sport, and we are here to provide it. If you let us through.”
The man’s gaze sharpened. “You’re here to see the mistress? Have you an appointment?”
“Yes—” Lilah lied.
“No. But we offer something worth her while.” Then he passed over his card.
Lilah flushed and mentally chastised herself for trying to lie. She’d been thinking only of getting through this one barricade, but even if it worked, it would damage her five minutes from now when someone discovered the truth. Meanwhile, the door guard looked them both over and nodded.
He passed the card to another large gentlemen behind him and said, “Philostrate will take you to her.” Then he looked at Lilah and the side of his mouth curled up. “There’s lots that the missus can do to help, if’n you don’t lie to her.”
Lilah nodded and felt her cheeks flush hot as her confidence slipped. This was a new world for her, and things were already not working out as she’d planned. She resolved to be even more careful as they walked in Philostrate’s wake. She also glanced at Lord Kittrel for reassurance. He returned her look with slightly raised brows as if to say,Are you sure about this?
Of course, she wasn’t sure, but she was determined. She lifted her chin and walked with more purpose in her step. He matched her pace with a set expression, and—she now noticed—his gaze was never still. They were walking around the main gaming floor while cigar smoke thickened the air. Fortunately, this made some sense to her as she had seen the card room at many balls. This place was no different, just larger. She noted men playing, very handsome men dealing, and coins or markers always changing hands. If she recognized any of the men here, it was in a distant sort of way. Lord Kittrel, on the other hand, seemed to recognize several of the players and that made his jaw tighten and his hands twitch. He also moved closer to her as if protecting her, and she welcomed his nearness and his large size.
“Stay close to me,” he murmured barely loud enough for her to hear.
He needn’t have said anything. She had no intention of leaving his side.
In time, they made it to a parlor on an upper floor. Philostrate gestured for them to remain where they were—outside the open door—as he went in and passed Aaron’s card to a lady dressed all in black where she sat at the back of the parlor drinking tea.
“That’s Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the owner of the Lyon’s Den,” Aaron whispered to her. “She is known to be a champion of women.”
There was no time for him to say more as the widow gestured them forward. They entered and Philostrate left, closing the door behind him. They were not bid to sit down. Indeed, they stood there like poor parishioners before a priest. It was a lowering experience for her, but it had to be a fully insulting one for Lord Kittrel. And yet he stood by her side as her support without any appearance of anger.
Yet.