Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“What?”
“Try not to kill him in here, yeah? Take him down toward the docks and do it there. You know how hard it is to scrub blood out of flooring.”
Bryn hadn’t known Lovell could get paler yet. However, he did.
“Get out of my club.” The dictate rolled free on a deep rumble as he stepped back. Bryn continued down the hall, knowing Remington would ensure that the trash was removed.
He tugged on his coat at the door and stepped out into the cold. They’d not had a winter like this in years and he sighed. If this didn’t change, he may be leaving later than anticipated. Swinging up on his gelding when it was brought to him, he flipped a coin to the boy and rode off down the street, one destination in mind.
Remington had said by the docks, and the first thing that had popped into his head was the orphanage where his sister volunteered her time. And he headed in that direction.
Because why? Oh that’s right, you know Rosamunde has made it her business to go down there when she could to see if she could be of any assistance. And you’re so caught up in her you’re willing to face your sister simply for a glance.
Flicking away some cold snow, he ignored best he could his subconscious and touched his heels to his mount, asking for more speed. As he didn’t have a carriage behind him, his horse was far more maneuverable than those around him, so he slid through and around them with ease.
When the large building came into view, he slowed and gazed around, unease settling between his shoulder blades. Not too far from where they housed the children was a house of ill repute. One he would have to pass in order to get to his destination. As much as seeing if Rosamunde was there was a draw, he did have an actual destination in mind. One to help him get out of his head for a while.
Damn it, why couldn’t thoughts of her stay out of his head? He adjusted in the saddle, the gelding responding with ease to the subtle shift in his weight and stretching out his stride.
Because when I close my eyes, all I see is her flushed, begging, taking my fingers like her body was made for me and only me.
Shaft thickening, he took a deep breath of the cold air, lips turning up in disgust at the thick layer of coal dust that he inhaled. One thing he wouldn’t miss when he left London behind.
Childish laughter broke through his musings and he canted his head to the left and spied a bunch of young boys running around outside, having snowball fights and enjoying themselves.
A small smile came. It made him happy to see children playing. Too many times here he saw them sad and tucked away in corners, not allowed to stretch their limbs or enjoy being outside. A few unhappy adults stood out there as well, maintaining a sort of order in the chaos.
He didn’t slow, even though he figured his sister was somewhere in there. Possibly Rosamunde as well.
Thoughts he didn’t want to peruse. Knowing how cheap her father was, he wouldn’t have allowed her to use the family carriage, which meant his woman had rented a hack to get down here. He ground his jaw.
His woman.
Also not anything he needed to focus on.
She’s not mine.
Not true, the possessive devil within him argued. You gave her her first orgasm from other than her own touch. You were the first to lay eyes on her naked body.
Damn it!
He’d worked himself up into a foul mood when he finally reached his destination and slid off the back of his mount before handing him over to one of the young men who worked there.
“Lord Wetherstoft.”
“Mick. Good to see you. How’s your ma?”
Pock-scarred cheeks creased as the hard man broke into a small smile. “Feeling better now, thank you.”
Bryn gave him a sharp nod and walked to the brick building with the heavy steel door. Pounding on it, he waited as the small slit near the top opened, allowing a pair of eyes to gaze at him.
No words were forthcoming, but the door opened seconds later and Bryn stepped inside Mac’s, a notorious gaming hell that served mostly the seedy side of London. The warmth inside sank into his cold bones and he rolled his shoulders to work out the stiffness.
Women pranced around wearing little more than shifts, getting pats on the ass and breasts groped by the men who smoked, drank and gambled. Nodding at familiar faces, Bryn claimed a seat and knew his favorite drink would be on the way.
Here he could forget all things pertaining to Rosamunde and the way she felt around his fingers.
He shivered.
Yeah, here to forget.