Page 51 of A Lady of Means (Roses and Rakes #1)

Chapter Forty

The last time Devyn had been at this particular club, he’d had her in his arms. They’d been interrupted by her former beau, who’d helped them sneak out, and they’d adjourned to his rooms. They’d played music together and shared some of themselves with each other.

But the memory came unbidden now, partially unwelcome, as he sat in a leather chair at a table that was too small for his form, waiting for her brother.

“I’m not sorry to keep you waiting,” Pembrooke said, looking like warmed-over hell as he sat across from Devyn. He looked like a man with so much privilege and very little purpose and Devyn might have been him once, before her.

“I’ll make this short,” Pembrooke said, holding up a finger to call over a waiter. “A full breakfast, all the trimmings,” he said, refusing a menu. When they were alone again, he returned his attention to Devyn. “I have an offer for you.”

Devyn leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

“I want to open a club, a man with your connections and skills would be valuable.”

Devyn gestured pointedly around them. “We are currently in a club, Pembrooke.”

Lawrence shook his head. “A different kind of club. An athletic club. Exclusive, expensive, but a place in town for sport.”

“And how do I factor into this?”

Lawrence leaned forward, matching Devyn. “Put up what you can spare in collateral. I have capital to invest as well, and a few interested parties. I have a particular design in mind. Somewhere for men to work on archery, rowing, boxing, fencing, swimming, the like. Help me plan it, train the men—”

Devyn gestured to the cane leaning against his chair. “Not sure if you heard, I was injured.”

Lawrence scoffed. “Then maybe some of the toffs in this town might actually stand a chance going toe-to-toe with you.”

Devyn turned over a cigar between his fingers. “What else?”

“We split the profits.”

Devyn paused his movements. “That simple, huh?”

Lawrence nodded, tracing the rim of his glass. “It is. Because you and I, we have nothing to lose, and everything to prove. I think we could work well as business partners.”

Devyn lifted his drink and tipped it in Lawrence’s direction in mock salute in answer.

“I require something as collateral first.”

Devyn snorted into his drink. “Of course you do.”

“Moria’s book,” Devyn raised a brow at her brother’s words. “It’s an axe, hanging over her head currently somewhere in Mayfair. Help me get it back?”

Devyn sat down his drink, folded his hands. “Tell me what you want me to do.”