One quick glance around the inside would tell her if the building was a viable meeting place. Half of her hoped it was filled with trash and rat dung, so she’d be able to close the door firmly behind her and walk away. Only one way to find out.

She pushed the door open and took a tentative step inside. “Hullo?” she called, praying no response was forthcoming. If anyone did reply, she intended to dash outside and be two blocks away before they could reach the door. “Is anyone here?”

Emboldened by the continued silence, she took two more steps inside and paused, giving her eyes time to adjust to the inky darkness. She could make out a few large shapes in the center of the room—furniture, most likely—and a long counter along the far wall.

Already she could see the potential here—room for at least fifty women, an easily accessible back entrance, and even some seating. She’d need to inspect it during the day to be sure, but—

The air at her back moved unexpectedly, sending a chill over her skin. The courage she’d felt moments ago drained through her slippers. Deciding she’d had more than enough adventure for one night, she gulped and took a step backward. She reached behind her, feeling for the wall or the doorjamb, but as she did, the swath of moonlight that had painted the floor a pale yellow shrunk to a thin ribbon before being swallowed up by darkness.

The door slammed shut with a bang that made her heart buck like a spooked foal. She leaped halfway to the ceiling and let out a cry before she managed to find her voice. “Who’s there?” she asked, wishing she sounded more assured and in command. Less terrified to the point of casting up her accounts.

“If you don’t mind,” came the exceedingly dry, hauntingly deep, eminently masculine voice, “I’ll ask the questions here.”

Chapter 2

Henry Reese, Earl of Warshire, dropped his cheroot and ground it under his boot heel before making a slow, appraising circle around the intruder—a woman, if he wasn’t mistaken. He scrubbed his eyelids with the backs of his hands and blinked to make sure she wasn’t some sort of hallucination. Sometimes, when he’d gone for a week without any sleep to speak of, his brain deceived him. But she seemed real enough.

Even in the dark, Reese could see her trembling like a rabbit hiding from a fox on the prowl. And yet, she raised her chin—a subtle act of defiance that was admirable, if ultimately futile.

No, this woman was not his usual sort of vision. The grotesque monsters lurking in the corners of his admittedly warped mind were made not of flesh but of pain and terror. Their bony fingers had clawed at his soul and wrung it out until it was nothing but a shriveled casing.