Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
“If my membership is revoked tonight because you insisted on being an idiot, I will never take you anywhere again.” Thornton thrust out his arm, barring Hugh from taking another step toward the front doors to the Seven Sins. “I am entirely serious.”
Hugh pushed down his friend’s arm. “I can behave myself when I want to.”
Thornton had grumbled when Hugh turned up at his St. James’s Square residence and laid out his plan for the evening.
He was not a member of the gaming hell, but Thornton was.
After a long-winded lecture on conducting himself better than he had the night Thornton had taken him to the opera, when Audrey had wanted to bump into Lord St. John during the investigation into Miss Lovejoy’s murder, he’d agreed to sponsor Hugh for the evening.
“No stumbling around, pretending to be drunk, and lifting people’s pocket watches,” Thornton added, with a roll of his eyes.
It was what Hugh had done at the opera; he’d pickpocketed St. John to give Audrey something of his to hold and read the way she could other objects.
Unfortunately, Thornton had been far cleverer than St. John and had seen him do it.
It’s possible evidence, was all Hugh had said in explanation.
His friend had glared balefully at him, not entirely believing it. But he hadn’t asked more questions.
Not so tonight.
“What exactly are you looking for in here? Do you really think anyone is going to talk to you about Givens or Comstock? These types of places are notoriously private, especially about members, present and past.”
“I’m looking for whatever I can find. That can’t be done if I don’t even try.”
Thornton grumbled as the door to the Seven Sins opened, revealing a large, broad-shouldered porter. The man’s lips turned down into a grimace.
“Gaming piece,” he ordered. Thornton removed the opium locket from his pocket and held it out to the man. The porter took a long, close look at it. Then turned to Hugh, expecting his.
“I am sponsoring this gentleman for the evening,” Thornton said, his lackadaisical tone intentional. He was a damn fine liar.
The porter held out his hand, and Thornton dropped the locket into his waiting palm. He wouldn’t get it back until he and his sponsored guest left for the evening. Should anything untoward occur, Thornton wouldn’t get it back at all.
They were permitted through, and as they climbed the curved stairs toward the main gaming floor, Thornton muttered, “Why do I feel that is the last I’m going to see of that locket?”
“Have some faith,” Hugh replied.
The main floor opened before them, and the crush was impressive.
Tables of poker, hazard, faro, and vingt-et-un filled the room, and the patrons crowding around them created a dull roar of noise.
Thick cigar smoke hazed the air, muting the already dark interior of wine-red carpet and mahogany paneled walls and furniture.
Ladies in masks of all designs mixed with the gentlemen, and there were a few who did not bother with a mask at all.
They stood with the men at gaming tables, smoked cigars, lounged in laps, and laughed and spoke loudly.
Hugh still recalled the bolt of fury and lust when he’d spied Audrey walking arm-in-arm with the Marquess of Wimbly.
She’d been brave to come here, alone. Heedless and impulsive too.
Hugh’s attention snagged on a deep green velvet curtain near the back corner of the gaming room. A burly guard stood next to it, arms crossed and expression stony.
“What is back there?” Hugh asked. Thornton followed his gaze.
“Your bride wouldn’t be pleased if you entered the back of the house,” Thornton replied.
Hugh glared at him. “I shouldn’t have told you about the special license.”
On the ride to the Seven Sins, Thornton had asked point blank if he’d proposed yet. Unable to settle on a good enough reason to lie, he’d admitted he had.
“What are you doing here with me when you could be marrying her, for god’s sake?” Thornton asked.
Hugh tensed. He and Audrey had agreed to first find Miss Silas and, of course, Sir. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt something else was holding him back.
“She has just cast off her widow’s black,” Hugh said. “Waiting a few weeks would be more proper.”
Thornton snorted. “Since when have you cared about being proper?”
“Since it will affect Audrey and how she will be received as my new viscountess. Not only is it a demotion in social rank, but let’s not forget I arrested her first husband on charges of murder.
I am tainted by scandal and the fact that I was working class.
I don’t want her to suffer socially because of me. ”
He exhaled—and having let it all out, felt lighter.
He hadn’t even admitted to himself these things until now.
Audrey had never shown the slightest bit of care about the slip in her social currency.
After so many scandals, she was undoubtedly less influential than she’d been after her marriage to Philip Sinclair.
“She doesn’t care about those things,” Thornton said. Hugh stopped next to a faro table and stared at him. Thornton laughed. “What is that look for, Marsden? She doesn’t care, and you are well aware of that. What is really bothering you?”
Hugh couldn’t answer. Not truthfully. There was something hanging over his head, continuing to darken the horizon, no matter how bright his future with Audrey. And it could not be shared.
He wished he could tell Thornton about Philip. But like Audrey’s strange ability, it was something that needed to stay a secret. Thornton would never breathe a word to anyone, but it would be a burden on his shoulders. He wouldn’t do that to his friend.
Hugh licked his lips. “I don’t want to bungle anything up.”
Thornton grinned. “I enjoy seeing you like this. Rattled. Worried.” He ignored Hugh’s scowl.
“I need to talk to someone about Givens,” Hugh said, ready to be off the subject entirely.
Thornton gestured to a man near a billiards table. He was nearly as large as the porter, and his level attention drifted over the crowd.
“Talk to management and you’ll get nothing except a boot in an objectionable place,” Thornton said. “But Stokes over there and Givens were usually on the same shifts. He’s muscle, but he’s sharp.”
Hugh started for the billiards tables.
“I’m getting a drink. Go easy,” Thornton called after him.
Stokes’s flat eyes noticed his approach. His brows narrowed as Hugh closed in.
“Good evening,” Hugh said. The man remained stone cold. “I’m told you worked shifts with Harlan Givens.”
Stokes nodded but made no attempt to speak.
“You are aware he was killed two days ago?”
Another nod. Hugh sighed. Men like this, the stoic, silent ones, had always been the worst to question. Despite their calm demeanor, they were usually spoiling for a fight. Thornton wouldn’t forgive him too soon if he got himself tossed out on his ear after less than a few minutes of being here.
“I have reason to believe Givens was talking about something he should not have been,” Hugh went on, thinking of the two men Audrey had seen in her vision and what they’d been saying.
The man gave no nod this time. Instead, his eyes swept the gaming floor, then came back to rest upon Hugh. “If you’ve got any brains in that skull of yours, milord, you won’t keep talking.”
Ah. At last, he’d been driven to speak. “I’m afraid I need answers.”
Stokes stepped forward, coming toe to toe with him. “Then I’m afraid you’ll go the same way as the lad.”
Alarm shuttled up Hugh’s spine. The gaming room disappeared from his peripheral vision. “What lad?”
“Harlan’s boy.”
Sir had been here? “Where is he?”
Stokes’s lips split into a grin, revealing crooked teeth. “Got himself in a fair bit of trouble, coming here, whinging about someone knocking off his pop.”
Less than a hand span separated him from Stokes. Hugh closed it despite the other man’s advantage in height and weight. “I’ll ask you once more. Where is the boy?”
Stokes’s dumb grin faded. He backed up a step. “Tossed him out twice myself. Showed up tonight, too, so I brought him to Mr. Vance’s office. He’ll deal with him.”
Lars Vance owned the Seven Sins, and his cutthroat reputation was credited for keeping his members in good form. Hugh’s attention went again to the green velvet curtains shielding the back of the house. He side-stepped Stokes and started toward them.
Thornton fell in step beside him. “That didn’t look like a friendly conversation.”
“Sir is here. With Vance.”
Thornton grabbed Hugh’s arm to slow his charge toward the burly guard at the curtains. “Vance isn’t a man you want to upset.”
“Who says I want to upset him? I’m merely going to take Sir and leave.”
“The thunderous look on your face says differently.”
Only then did Hugh feel the scowl. He attempted to smooth it over with something less threatening as they reached the security guard. Like Stokes, the man’s bland expression held a shade of menace.
Thornton cleared his throat. “My friend here would like to purchase a membership,” he said, clapping Hugh on the shoulder with enough force to send him sideways. Purposefully, to be sure. “Is Mr. Vance in his office?”
The guard gave Hugh the onceover, then with a sniff of indifference, stepped aside.
“This is why I keep you around,” Hugh said as they parted the curtains and found themselves at the base of a stairwell. They started up.
“I thought it was for my scintillating personality,” Thornton replied.
Hugh snorted laughter but cut it short as muffled shouts came from the landing. He took the rest of the steps two at a time and found another security guard posted outside a closed door. A familiar voice, clear as day, reached through the wood: “I don’t know nothin’!”