Page 5 of A Raven Repents

Her father’s fists were white, and he looked on the verge of apoplexy. With a grunt, he relented, pulling the money from his pocket and shoving it into the man’s hand. “There. You’ve got your money back. Now why don’t we both just call it a night?”

“That wasn’t what I agreed to.”

“You’ll not marry my daughter.”

“It’s your choice, old chap.” One more irritating shrug, and he strode for the house.

She had to stop him, but her father gripped her arm.

“We’re going home.” He dragged her through the back gate.

“But he’s going to ruin me, Papa.”

“No he isn’t. He’s bluffing.”

But what if he wasn’t?

It was a short walk to their own townhouse, but by the time she closed the door to her bedroom, one thing was clear: whether he ruined her or not, this life was unsustainable. Eventually, she would not be able to bring in enough money to keep the creditors at bay.

The only alternative left would be to marry her father’s cousin. Anything had to be better than that.

Mr. Henderson had insisted on marrying her, even after getting his money back. Was it possible he actually was honorable and not the scoundrel he’d purported to be? Perhaps. He was the only man who had ever chosen marriage. All the others had begrudgingly paid the money.

But would Mr. Henderson really marry her?

She went to the armoire and threw clothes into her valise. There was only one way to find out. And, scoundrel or not, what did she have to lose?

Chapter

Two

Giles didn’t know what to do. Exposing their scheme really would destroy her reputation. That was definitely not the right move. And he couldn’t very well run after her and throw her over his shoulder.

Could he?

Of course not. It was a ridiculous thought. Panic was muddling his mind.

What was he supposed to do?

Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t marry her now. He’d tried his best, after all. Offered. Even insisted.

He wandered down the dark street, his mind sprinting, trying to find a solution. He needed his partners. His stake in The Raven’s Den. The work he did there. Damn that woman and her father straight to hell.

The colors of impending dawn filled the sky by the time he finally gave up and returned home. There had to be an answer, but his mind was too tired to find it. Perhaps a few hours of sleep would help.

“I’m sorry, Thistle. I know, I’m even later than usual, but it’s been a hellish night, so please, just help me get ready for bed?” Giles had inherited Thistlefield from his father, and although he hated the hours Giles kept, he had known Giles since the day he was born and put up with his bad habits, if sometimes begrudgingly.

But Thistle just shook his head. “There’s a young woman here to see you, sir. In the drawing room.” He gestured with his head.

Not the young woman, surely?

But it was her. She was slumped sideways, her head resting on the arm of the sofa, and she was fast asleep. What was she doing here? Was this a second trap of some kind? What other trap could there possibly be? He’d already offered to marry her. Demanded it in fact.

At least she was pretty. Beautiful if he put his wounded pride aside. There was no longer a mask covering her perfectly fair skin, and even as anger simmered in his veins, her lips were a temptation. Some of her hair had escaped its pins, long, dark curls resting against her back.

She was probably as exhausted as he was, but if he left her to sleep like that, she’d get a kink in her neck. Not that he should care.

He needed to know what the devil she was here for. He shoved the door shut behind him and startled her awake.