I scowled, glaring at my challengers in turn. It didn’t matter that this was an upscale gaming hell; when people started losing, the accusations were bound to fly. “I did no such thing, you lying cads!”
The man who had made the second accusation reached over and started tugging at my coat, as if he intended to pull it off right then and there. I shoved at him, even as buttons of my coattore loose, and I let out a yelp. I managed to get in a flailing half jab to his nose before his weight disappeared in a second as Tarik let out a roar and practically tore the man away with superhuman strength.
“Get off!”
Howling in rage, the man struck out a wild punch toward Tarik but instead hit the dealer, who had rounded the table to break up the fight with three enormous muscled men. This wasn’t like the time in the West End when I was a lady and could throw my father’s name around.
One, I was not dressed as Lady Rosalin, and two, many of the people in this gaming hell were likely aristocrats who knew my family. But unlike at the other gaming hell, the guards had the situation in hand in minutes.
“Thank you for what you did,” I said to Tarik.
His lips tightened. “I intervened only because I didn’t want to go to jail because of a brawl and get thrown out of the college.” It was a relief to get more than grunts out of him, but was this when I should tell him that he was already on the verge of such a calamity? I opened my mouth, but he stopped me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’ll leave if you come with me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Rosalin.”
“Tarik.”
He scowled. “God, you’re stubborn. Fine. Lead the way—let’s go, then.”
A wave of relief rushed through me as we collected our winnings and made our way through the club. A part of me wantedto ask him what he’d do differently than a place like Danforth’s, but I wasn’t sure he’d be open to conversation. His strong palm against the small of my back steering me through the crowd had my heart singing, but the minute we collected our cloaks at the entrance, it fell away.
Outside, a small crowd had gathered, and I stared in surprise at the handful of men in uniform, the Bow Street Runners, who were observing the entrance of Danforth’s Den. Had they been summoned because of the racket?
“He’s the thief!” someone accused.
The Runners marched forward, one of them grabbing me by the arm and knocking my hat off in the process. Real fear sluiced through me at the thought of being arrested. “Unhand me. I stole nothing,” I shrieked in high-pitched voice, making the man peer down at me, eyes widening in surprise as my unpinned hair tumbled loose.
“You need to come with us for questioning, miss.”
Tarik surged forward, ever protective despite his dismissive words. “Don’t touch her! She’s nobility. I’m the one you want. If you have questions, I’ll go with you.”
Shrugging off the Runner’s hold amidst the gasps of people nearby, I swung around wildly, realization dawning at the choice he was making and what it would mean for him. “No, Tarik. You can’t.”
“I’m not doing it for you.”
It was a lie. I knew that with every fiber of my being. I closed the narrow gap between us. “Who’s the liar now?” I asked.
Then I shoved up to the tips of my toes and kissed him hard. Iheard more muffled gasps around us, but what did it matter? My so-called reputation was already hanging by the skin of its teeth. Tarik was worth it. His entire body froze but his lips were soft and receptive. At least he was kissing me back. When we broke apart after a handful of seconds, he was flushed. I was certain I looked the same.
“Your hair is down,” he murmured.
I shrugged. “So it is. Don’t say anything, and don’t go anywhere. They can hold you, but they can’t keep you without proof of wrongdoing. I’ll fix this. And then we need to talk about an old rival of yours.”
Chapter Twenty
Plato is my friend, Aristotle is my friend, but my greatest friend is truth.
—Isaac Newton
“Ansel, I need your help,” I said to my cousin after I had told everyone what had transpired and they finally left. Blake, as expected, had been outraged that I’d taken it upon myself to go to Danforth’s alone, but I was beyond asking any boys for permission at this point.
“With what?” Ansel asked.
I wrung my hands. “We have to get him out. He can’t stay there when he’s done nothing wrong. Neither of us cheated, but he was defending me. Protectingme.”
“Roz, I can’t work a miracle to get someone out of the custody of the Runners, if they’ve taken him in. He’ll likely be at the Bow Street Magistrates’ Court in Westminster, if not somewhere worse, like Newgate.”
