Page 78 of Gone with the Rake

“Please, follow me.”

Thorn nodded and followed behind the woman as she leisurely led him further inside. She guided him through the main hall and to the entrance of Persephone’s Heaven.

She slid the curtain to the side and cocked her head. “Come on in.”

Thorn peered inside. “I thought no gentlemen were allowed here.”

“Not during the day,” the woman said, then tipped her head again.

Thorn entered the heaven and was amazed to see it in a way he hadn’t expected.

It was beautiful. The walls and ceilings were painted with angelic visages, and flowers adorned the entire room, but that wasn’t what surprised him.

After a night of debauchery, all those decorations were being taken down. The room was being cleaned, and in the midst of it all, the queen of both hell and heaven stood, clutching a broom in her hand and laughing with the other ladies as they worked.

Thorn blinked. Now, that was something he had not expected to see at all.

Men were clearing out the heavy items, also smiling and laughing. It seemed like another kind of party—more intimate, more relaxed, and somehow more enjoyable.

Miss Monroe raised her head then, as if noticing the intruder, and narrowed her eyes on him. She handed the broom and the apron to the woman by her side and walked toward him.

“I didn’t think royalty cleaned,” he said as she reached his side.

“Only the ones who lead by example,” she said dryly. Then her expression changed, her face taking on her regular mocking quality as she raised a brow. “To what do I owe this surprise?”

“I have a matter to discuss with you. It is about Lydia Lawless.”

“Yes?” Her face was impassive.

He looked around. “Privately.”

She looked him up and down before cocking her head to the side. “Follow me.”

They walked through the main hall, then up the stairs toward the private chambers. Thorn had never been inside those chambers, but he knew what they were. Luckily, that was not where they were heading. She turned once more, and they walked past another guard and into a cramped, narrow corridor. She opened one of the heavy doors and welcomed him into what looked like a study.

Miss Monroe sat behind the desk and tilted her head, indicating for Thorn to take the seat opposite her.

Instead of sitting down, Thorn slowly looked around the dark room. Only the hearth behind Miss Monroe provided illumination—or should he say, provided adequate enough illumination for the mistress of hell. It shaded her from view and blinded anyone trying to look directly at her.

She leaned back and steepled her fingers on her belly. “Well, Lord Thornton, you are free to speak.”

Thorn took the ruby ring out of his pocket and placed it on the table between them. Miss Monroe leaned forward, her eyes widening.

“I hear you want this,” he said.

“I do,” she answered evenly.

A pause. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Because it’s mine.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a sniff and a chuckle. “Why would you presume that?”

“Because it belongs to the firstborn child of the Thornton line.”

Thorn frowned. “I am that child.”

“No,” she said emphatically. “You are a legitimate firstborn child. I am…” She paused, contemplating her next word.