Chapter Eight

A sher's gazed traveled to the women's gallery on the upper floor of the Lyon's Den for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had noticed his Persephone on the balcony earlier in the evening. She had even tilted her head in a slight nod when their eyes had locked. He had been wracking his brain for over a week trying to remember even a glimpse of this lady in the past Season so that he might know where to seek her out, but to no avail. It was as though she had just appeared from nowhere. And yet, for whatever reason, this woman filled his head both day and night.

Why? He obviously didn't know her nor had he spent more than a few minutes in her company. But there was just something about the lady that intrigued him. There were not many of his acquaintance who would give as good as they received from his teasing. Most of the women his mother put in his path had one thing on their mind and that was to marry a man with a title. Generally, any title would do and an earl was a good a catch as any. Far from bantering with him, those ladies were eager to agree with anything he said, no matter how outlandish it might be.

Perhaps that was why he found every last one of them dull as dishwater. None of them had ever left any sort of an impression on him, nor had he felt anything toward them other than mild distaste. He far preferred the company of women like Florinda. While she, too, had been flatly accommodating and agreeable, at least the activities he enjoyed with her held his interest. Asher had been enjoying his life as a bachelor despite how Saxton and Wickes spewed how married life now suited them. As far as Asher was concerned, there were more women to please in the world and he would make his way through a number of them if he could…

Until now … the voice inside his head whispered as he watched the very lady who had filled his thoughts of late being escorted by two wolves to the entrance to the garden. Asher watched her disappear through the doorway and something lurched in his gut. If Persephone were downstairs it could only mean one thing. The Widow of Whitehall had found the lady a match.

"My lord, will you place your bet?" Mustardseed inquired with a nod toward the table. It always amused Asher that all the dealers were named after characters from Mrs. Dove-Lyon's favorite play A Midsummer Night's Dream .

Asher tossed in his bet not paying the least bit of attention to the cards he had been dealt. He finally gathered the cards and fanned them out in his fingers, hiding the frown threatening to give away his hand. He had nothing. Not even a pair. As he looked up into the eyes of the dealer, he knew the game had been rigged.

He tapped the cards on the velvet table and returned his attention to the entrance of the garden. This time he couldn't hold back the scowl that raced across his features. The Earl of Carrington adjusted his waistcoat, and ran his fingers through his black hair, before he walked through the entryway. He didn't appear any happier than Asher was. Asher could only ponder what arrangement Valentine had made with the Widow of Whitehall over his Persephone.

Mustardseed asking the two men at the table to show their hands took Asher out of his musings. He fanned out his losing hand. The man sitting across from him gave him a smirk.

"Bad luck that, Rowley," Oliver Pitt said as he pulled the coins toward his growing pile of winnings.

Asher stood, his purse all the lighter from another round of bad cards. "I've had better nights," he replied. Maybe he needed a drink to wash away any further bad karma that might be headed his way.

"Hurts to lose something you once had, doesn't it?" Oliver taunted causing Asher's eyes to narrow. The man's words sounded a little too knowing.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked as curiosity got the better of him.

Oliver stood and went to stand next to Asher. He leaned in so his words would be heard by Asher alone. "I'm not certain how you could let a woman like Florinda go but I thank you for it. Best sex I've had in years."

Pitt gave a hard smack on Asher's shoulder before he left him standing there alone. Not that Asher cared. He had been aware that Florinda was seeing someone else. That was one of the reasons why he hadn't visited her of late. He wasn't one to be second to anyone and least of all another lover of his mistress.

Asher shook his head as he let Pitt's words go. Once again his eyes turned toward the garden, which Val had exited, looking no happier than when he entered. Surprisingly, there wasn't a bouncer standing at the entrance and Asher took the opportunity to make his way across the gambling floor to slip inside. Luck was finally on his side tonight.

He slowly strode through the doorway. The garden looked almost barren, though that was inevitable, given the season. It would still be several months until this area would be back into what he would expect a garden to look like. He was, however, surprised to see a hearth set into the far wall. It was currently ablaze to provide whatever heat could be found to warm those who might decide to brave the cooler weather.

His Persephone stood there. She was holding her hands out toward the fire but Asher still noticed her shivering from the cold. With the tinkling sounds of water flowing from the fountain, she didn't hear his approach. He pulled his jacket from his shoulders and placed the garment around her. A gasp left her as she quickly turned to meet his gaze.

"Hades," she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Good evening, Persephone," he whispered. He pulled the edges of his jacket closer to provide what limited warmth it would offer. "I saw you enter a while ago and thought I might take advantage of the situation to speak with you again." Was that disappointment that briefly flashed across her features?

"Good evening, my lord," she answered. "I thought perhaps… never mind."

"What did you think, my dear?" he asked in a husky whisper. He reached out with his thumb and forefinger and gently took hold of her chin, tipping her face upward so he could stare into those striking hazel eyes. The green of her eyes was only on the edges with a golden-brown center.

"It doesn't matter," she finally answered in a breathy tone.

"I beg to differ. Tell me," he urged stepping closer. Her mouth was so tempting and he couldn't resist running his thumb over her lower lip. She gave a sigh that went straight to his heart among other places.

"You're here now. Nothing else matters," she murmured instead of telling him her thoughts. She raised those hopeful looking eyes to him and he swore a little piece of the ice surrounding his heart cracked.

He knew he shouldn't. She was a lady and not some woman of loose morals like those upstairs. But he couldn't stop himself when he leaned down to brush his lips gently over hers. A startled soft gasp escaped her as their breath mingled together. His heart hammered inside his chest and he began to rethink the wisdom of tasting her lips. But then she stepped closer and wound her arms up and around his neck. He suddenly became lost in the feel of this woman's body pressed intimately against his own.

His arms went around her as he deepened their kiss and when she opened her mouth, they were able to begin a dance with their tongues that sent sensations coursing through his body more powerfully than he'd ever felt from a mere kiss. Asher came to the harsh realization that he may just have met his match in this lady. The soft moan that came from deep within her made Asher break off their kiss as reality sunk in. Anyone could walk by and her reputation would be in ruins.

When she opened her hazel eyes, he had to blink for he swore he saw the promise of a future staring right back at him if he only allowed himself to believe in it. He shouldn't have kissed her and the words of the prostitute who lived upstairs filled his head. Kissing was too personal, he realized too late, now that the damage was done.

"My apologies, Persephone. I shouldn't have kissed you," Asher said noticing the brief hint of hurt that flashed across her face.

A slight smile crept up at one corner of that luscious mouth. "No need to apologize since I was more than willing. Besides… I would expect nothing less from Hades to steal a kiss from a lady."

A chuckle left him. "You know me too well."

A light laugh left her. "Hardly, my lord. I think there is much to learn about you and that you are hiding behind this fa?ade of a devil-may-care man."

That thought was sobering, reminding him of the responsibilities that awaited him in the coming days especially with his brother.

"I don't consider myself as a reckless person," he said as he carefully watched her.

"And I am not usually careless with my reputation despite what just happened between us," she replied patting her hair into place, not that she looked at all disheveled.

He then remembered the beginning of their strange conversation when he first entered the garden. "I never gave you time to tell me what you were thinking when I arrived," he said raising his hand to push a tendril of hair from her cheek.

"I thought perhaps Mrs. Dove-Lyon had sent you to meet me." A becoming blush rushed across her face and he couldn't help but wonder just how far down her bodice did her embarrassment go.

Then her words registered inside his head. He hated the thought that he would disappoint her.