A Rogue by Any Other Name
Penelope shook her head. “Why would he invite me to billiards?”
“An excellent question.” He turned to Cross. “Cross?”
Cross crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “It seems Chase feels the lady is owed a debt.”
One of Bourne’s brows rose, but he did not speak.
Penelope shook her head. “Impossible. We’ve never met.”
Michael narrowed his gaze on Cross, who smiled, and said, “Sadly, Chase is always one step ahead of the rest of us. If I were you, I would simply accept payment.”
Penelope’s brows rose. “In visits to a gaming hell?”
“It seems that is the offer.”
She smiled. “It would be rude to refuse.”
“Indeed it would, my lady.” Cross laughed, and Michael despised the familiarity in the sound.
“She’ll accept invitations to The Angel from Chase, or anyone else, over my dead body,” he growled, and Cross seemed, finally, to recognize that he was serious. “Get out.”
Cross looked to Penelope. “I shall be just outside should you need me.”
The words set Bourne further on edge. “She won’t need you.”
I shall give her everything she needs.
He did not have to say it, as Cross was already gone, and Penelope was speaking. “I have put up with a great deal from men over the years, Michael. I have suffered betrothal to a man who cared not a whit for me and everything for my reputation, and a broken engagement that echoed through ballrooms for two complete seasons—while my fiancé married his love and birthed his heir, and no one seemed to mind.”
She ticked off the items on her fingers as she spoke, moving toward him. “After that came five years of courting from men who saw me as nothing more than my dowry—not that avoiding those marriages helped a whit, as I seem to have landed myself in a marriage that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my connection to a piece of land.”
“What about Tommy, your dearest love?”
Her eyes flashed with fire. “He’s not my dearest love, and you know it. He wasn’t even my fiancé.”
He could not conceal his surprise. “He wasn’t?”
“No. I lied to you. I pretended he was so you would stop your insane plans to abduct me into marriage.”
“I didn’t stop.”
“No, you didn’t. And by that point, I did not feel much like telling the truth.” She stopped and collected herself. “You were just like all the others, so why should I have? At least the engagement to Leighton involved some aspect of my own character—even if it was the boring, proper aspect of it.”
Michael held his tongue as she advanced. There was nothing boring or proper about this Penelope, standing in a gaming hell as though she owned it, absolutely livid. She was vibrant and magnificent, and he’d never wanted anything in the world the way he wanted her in that moment.
She pressed on. “As you care not a bit about my wishes, I have decided to take my own pleasures in hand. As long as I receive invitations to adventure, I shall accept them.”
Not without him, she wouldn’t.
It was his turn to advance upon her, not knowing where to begin, pressing her back toward the billiard table. “Do you realize what could happen to you in a place like this? You could have been attacked and left for dead.”
“People are rarely attacked and left for dead in Mayfair, Michael.” She gave a little laugh. An actual laugh, and he considered strangling her himself. “Unless I was at risk of accosting by your literary door-man, I think this place is quite safe, frankly.”
“How would you know? You don’t even know where you are.”
“I know I’m on the other side of The Angel. That’s how the man at the door referred to it. How Cross referred to it. How you referred to it.”
“What password were you given?”
“Éloa.”
He sucked in a breath. Chase had given her carte blanche at the club. Access to any room, any event, any adventure she wanted, without chaperone.
Without him.
“What does it mean?” she asked, registering his surprise.
“It means I’m going to have words with Chase.”
“I mean, what does Éloa mean?”
He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. “It’s the name of an angel.”
Penelope tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“Was he a fallen angel?”
“She was, yes.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.”
“Tricked her how?”
He met her gaze. “She fell in love with him.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “Did he love her?”
Like an addict loves his addiction. “The only way he knew how.”
She shook her head. “How could he trick her?”
“He never told her his name.”
A beat.
“No names.”
“Not on this side, no.”
“What happens on this side?” She leaned back against the billiard table, her hands clutching the side cushions.
“Nothing you need think about.”
She smiled. “You can’t keep it from me, Michael. I’m a member, now.”
He didn’t want her to be. He didn’t want her touched by this world. He moved toward her slowly, unable to resist. “You shouldn’t be.”
“What if I want to be?”