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tall form to stand.

“Perhaps I can hazard a guess?” a deeply calm and confident voice spoke from across the room. It was the third man, standing beside the window. The most intimidating of them all. “You must be Lady Olivia Haliford, the Duke of Beresford’s daughter.”

She turned her attention to him. This had to be Colver, though she hadn’t expected him to speak with the cultured tones of a refined gentleman, with the slightest hint of a cockney accent underneath. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect of him, but the man towering before her certainly hadn’t been it.

Of course, he was definitely intimidating, perhaps fearsome even, which is what she’d expected from someone with his reputation. But the man standing before her wasn’t only possessed of raw brute strength, there was also intelligence radiating from those steel-gray eyes of his. And an air of menace. Although that most likely emanated from the three-inch scar marring the right side of his face, starting at the top of his cheek to stop just shy of the corner of his mouth.

This was not a man to cross or to trifle with. Power radiated from him like a second skin, and Livie knew without any doubt the details in the dossier outlining what it was rumored he’d done to survive and eventually thrive to become the undisputed king of London’s underworld had to be true.

This man had killed before. She could see it in his eyes. It was the same gaze Kat often wore; separate and lonely, with a detachment that set them apart.

A chill ran through Livie with the knowledge. But it wasn’t from fear, but rather a strange sense of curiosity. What had driven this man to such a position? What had he done to not only survive but become one of London’s most powerful men, against all odds?

His height and brawn would have helped; why, he had to be at least six foot four, and there was an innate confidence in his bearing that belonged to someone used to being in charge and in control. Absolute control.

No wonder he’d become the King of the Rookeries. It was almost impossible to imagine anyone daring to stand up to him.

Livie felt her prospects of convincing him to invest in the gazette dwindle. This man was no pushover. Not that she’d anticipated him to be, but in the flesh, it was plainly obvious there was no quarter to be given from him. She unconsciously licked her lips as she gathered her courage to convince him.

Because convince him she must.

“And you must be Mr. Colver.” Livie was extremely pleased her voice sounded steady and calm when her heartbeat was anything but.

He gave her a brief nod, his dark golden hair looking ridiculously like a halo as it reflected the fading sunlight streaming in through the window behind him as the sun slowly set. Power permeated every pore of this man and she knew, without doubt, that he could wield it with deadly consequences whenever he so chose.

Not for the first time, Livie questioned her reasoning for thinking he’d be an ideal silent partner in the business venture. But she couldn’t keep second-guessing herself as she so often had in the past.

“You two, out,” Colver barked to his two men, who nodded and began to head for the door. “You, sit.” The last order was directed at Livie.

“I’m more than capable of standing, thank you very much.” It was best he learned sooner rather than later that he couldn’t boss her around like he could his underlings. Plus, she didn’t like the thought of him towering over her; he did that enough already while they were standing. Not to mention that sitting for her was not as graceful an act as it was for other women; she had to often adjust her leg so it wouldn’t cramp, and in doing so inevitably drew attention to her disability.

And showing weakness of any kind in front of Colver, while trying to negotiate with him, would be foolish.

Her defiance seemed to make the other two men pause briefly on their way out of the room; however, they quickly continued on, closing the door sharply behind them, obviously used to obeying Colver without question.

Livie felt her heart rate pick up even more. She was now alone with the Bastard of Baker Street, and he wasn’t looking impressed that she hadn’t obeyed him.

For about a minute, they stood facing each other, their eyes locked, neither willing to budge an inch. She couldn’t tell what the man was thinking, though she imagined he probably wasn’t too happy with her for showing up at his office today without an appointment.

But what else could she have done? Drastic times called for drastic measures.

“You have three minutes.” His deep voice was clipped. “And trust me, I’ll kick you out on your pretty little backside, limp and all, if you’re a second more.”

Livie raised her chin. She’d never been threatened with that sort of action before nor, come to think of it, had her derrière been called pretty either. But there was no time to consider such things, as a meeting with him is what she’d been after for over a fortnight. And she was running out of time to obtain the funds needed. “As my letters have stated, I have a unique business proposal for you.”

“And I believe as my replies have stated,” Sebastian countered, “I am not interested in your unique business proposal.”

“Your replies? You haven’t had the courtesy to reply once to my letters!” Livie fisted her hands on her hips.

“Courtesy is in short supply in my world, my lady. Besides, not replying is replying,” the man stated blandly. “It sends a clear message of disinterest, I would have thought.”

“Disinterest? Or rudeness?” Livie was starting to get frustrated with the man. “I would think the latter.”

“Rudeness?” He laughed lightly as he relaxed back on the windowsill, perching his behind on the wood frame. “Have you heard of my reputation, Lady Olivia?”

“Of course

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