They were right, of course.
When he’d come here with Markham, he’d dismissed whomever had occupied the table with equal assurance. Their cheap clothes and heavy accents had marked them as far beneath his notice as he was above theirs.
“Problem?” he asked.
“No problem at all,” the largest of them answered. He tilted his chair on its hind legs as he yelled toward the kitchen. “Lizzy, you’ve got a new chap.” His chair hit the ground with a thud, and he turned back to his companions. “As I was sayin’, the peace ain’t going to last. Addington don’t think so either, else he would’ve ended the damn tax.”
Bromton hadn’t given a thought to politics in months. The last thing he wished to think about now was England, once again, declaring war on France. He made his way to a table on the opposite side of the room.
“Ho there, Bromton! Is that you?”
He squinted past the light spilling through a small, dirty window. Though the light was dim, he would have recognized the spectacled profile and lopsided grin anywhere.Farring.What could he be doing here?
“I don’t think he heard you, Clubs.”
Rayne, too? Unfortunately, yes.And looking as elegant as ever, his ice eyes shaded by an onyx wave of tidy hair.Bloody hell.
Bromton approached their table, his wind-burnt cheeks cracking with a false smile. “I thought I detected a foul stench.”
Farring leaned toward Rayne. “Och, he’s in bad spirits.”
“I’m not inspiritsat all,” Bromton replied. Though, he fully intended to be. “May I ask why the two of you are here?”
Farring pushed his glasses up his nose. “Markham invited us to your impending nuptials. Didn’t he tell you?”
Giles glanced to Rayne. “It must have slipped his mind.”
“We set out as soon as we received the invitation,” Rayne added, betraying no visible reaction to his impending nuptials. “London’s been a bore.”
“Ah, Diamonds. London is never a bore,” Farring countered. “I, for one, came in hopes of another high-stakes game.”
Bromton snorted.
“So,” Farring’s brown eyes danced with teasing, “you lost your estate to Markham and somehow ended up betrothed to his sister. It’s not every day a man sticks his foot in the parson’s trap on the turn of a card.”
Bromton arched a brow—usually enough of a warning. “Let’s just say we’ve settled the debt.”
“Have you settled your debts?” Rayne asked ominously.
“Join us.” Farring kicked out the extra seat. “We were discussing whether the rain would hold out long enough for us to reach Southford.”
“The verdict?” Bromton asked.
Farring grinned. “One more round, of course. Oh, Lizzy, love, would you bring us another?”
Bromton sat down as a hearty woman with an I’ll-be-taking-no-nonsense expression approached the table.
“A pint for you as well?” she asked.
Ale? Bromton glanced to the bearded man with a penchant for politics. He’d bet his best hessians that Grizzly over there had something stronger in his tankard than ale. And hadn’t Katherine mentioned something about The Pillar brewing fine, if not quite legal, tipple?
“Do you have anything stronger?” he asked.
“Well,” she said sarcastically, “I got me collection of fine frog brandies in the back.”
“Ale it must be, then.” Likely, the establishment did not have a license for whatever they brewed. He’d have to gain the serving woman’s trust, and that wasn’t going to happen while Rayne and Farring were here.
Farring took a swig of his ale and frowned.
