Page 4 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

Ethan walked over to the man at the counter and slid into the seat beside him with a genial smile.

“My good fellow,” he told him jovially. “It would be ill-advised to request the strongest drink from this fine establishment the moment you walk through its doors.”

He watched as the man’s entire body stiffened, his slight shoulders squaring as if in indignation.

“And what would you have me drink, then?” the man raged in an odd voice. “Lemonade? I do not need lemonade!”

Lemonade? Ethan drew back in surprise. What a truly odd thing to say—if he was truly a gentleman, of course.

Lemonade was reserved for balls, and Almack’s, in particular, served the cursed drink to its esteemed patrons.

No, this was no odd gentleman—he was certain of it. This was alady.

But what the hell was she doing in an establishment like this?

He abruptly grabbed her chin and tilted her face to the light—and the breath rushed out of his lungs when he saw the furious eyes glaring back at him.

Green flecked with gold.

Only one particular lady in all of London had eyes like those. He would recognize them even if she purposefully broke her nose or rearranged all her other features.

Phoebe Barkley.

His night had suddenly become even more interesting.

CHAPTER 2

Of all the things he thought would happen that night, he never expected to find Lady Phoebe Barkley in a disreputable establishment frequented by rogues and all sorts of ruffians who could not even be bothered to make a pretense at civility.

And dressed in a poor attempt at imitating amanat that.

On paper, it was a gentlemen’s club, but not all of its patrons could be said to behave in a gentlemanly manner.

Just a quick glance around the room and he already noticed that a significant number of the patrons had begun watching the scene with interest. A few of them even had that familiar gleam in their eyes when their gazes swiveled over to Phoebe, dressed in that repugnant outfit as she was.

Ethan knew all too well what those gazes meant, and to say he did not appreciate the attention was an understatement.

No, he was suddenly possessed with the urge to pluck every single eye out of the sockets of every man who dared to look at her that way.

Ethan groaned inwardly as he quickly assessed the situation that they were currently in. He gave it approximately less than five minutes before all hell broke loose and those men descended upon them.

The sooner he could get her out, the better it would be for her.

And for his sanity.

“Unhand me, Your Grace!” she seethed, those unique eyes of hers glowing with fury. She swatted his arm away and turned to the bartender once more, but he caught her wrist.

He glared fiercely at her, but the silly goose did not even seem to comprehend just how much danger she was currently in.

“I told you to?—”

“We are leaving,” he told her firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “You are done here. I am taking you back to Brandon Estate.”

And hopefully, your father will keep you under lock and key before you wreak havoc and set the rest of London on fire!

His last recollection of her had been one of a shy and blushing maiden, visibly uncomfortable with his teasing advances.

That and the fierce gleam of triumph in her eyes when they both won the treasure hunt at Lady Wellington’s last house party.

---