“You can’t leave in the middle of a game,” grumbled one of the other players, a diminutive, shrewlike man who went by the name of Basker.
Aden stood. “I’m nae leaving. I’m shifting over to a table where I can keep my eyes on ye. Ye keep my wager on the queen.”
“And I’ll be watching you, too, Basker. Clintock, he’ll steal your whiskers if you blink your eyes.”
The wee man scowled more blackly. “As if anyone would want that tangle of gray fuzz.”
Hiding his impatience, Aden waited while the two men baited each other, then followed Crowley to a scratched, stained hardwood table a few feet away. The Round Cow tavern was his fourth stop on a long, frustrating evening, and unless he could get some useful information from Crowley, it wouldn’t be his last.
“I’ve seen you here and there for a few weeks now,” Crowley said, as two full mugs splashed onto the table and Aden flipped a shilling at the barkeep. “Never seen you use a cue sheet before. Or waste your time on three-shilling games.”
Aden shrugged, unsurprised that Crowley had noticed. Gamblers—fair ones, anyway—were reasonably observant. And Crowley, he’d discovered a fortnight ago, had good reason to like figures and to be proficient with wagering. “A friend recommended using the sheet. Idunnae think it’s worthwhile, though, especially with the other lads at the table looking over my shoulder at it to place their own wagers.”
“Is that why you mismarked four of the cards?”
With a grin, Aden lifted his mug. Amusing himself had seemed the best way to endure the evening, and having a bit of fun with the cue sheet masked the fact that he was having the damnedest time keeping his mind on task tonight. “If they cannae count on their own, it’s nae my fault.”
“But if they lose, it’s not to you. It’s to the bank.”
“I’m only here for the fun of it.”
That made the old man snort. “Fun would be Jezebel’s, where all the dealers are pretty young women and they don’t top off the beer with water from the Thames. Or so I’ve heard. That place is too rich for my blood, never mind that my Mary would wallop me if she found out I’d been there.”
“Aye. Jezebel’s is a sight to behold. I cannae argue with that.” He’d been to that particular gaming den a handful of times. The play was good, but the establishment made money mostly because its members were so distracted by the lasses only one in ten of them even knew which cards they were holding. The mix of disdain and lust wafting off the men of the upper classes as they beheld lasses for whom they generally wouldn’t spare a second glance on the street was fascinating, but he preferred stiffer competition.
“How are you finding London then, MacTaggert? The rumor is that you and your brothers have been ordered to find English brides.”
“We have been. My younger brother, Niall, found himself one already. Coll and I are more stubborn.” Aden took another sip of the weak, tasteless beer. “You wouldnae happen to know any likely lasses, would you?”
Crowley chuckled. “Not a one whose papa doesn’t work for a living.”
“Ye have any bairns yerself? Ye’re a banker, aye?”
“I am. For the past thirty years. And yes, I have a daughter. She’s been married for eight years now, to a butcher who sees us with a nice fat pork roast twice a month and who’s given me two grandsons.”
“I reckon I might marry a lass if she came with a good pork roast.” Swirling the beer in its tin mug, he set a thoughtful look on his face. “I’m acquainted with more than one lad who lost his fortune at wagering. With ye being a banker, ye must have seen that from behind the desk, aye?”
The banker’s expression sobered. “I have, at that.”
“And yet ye wager, yerself.”
“There’s a reason I spend most of my wagering time at establishments like the Round Cow, my boy. I may not win much, but I don’t lose much, either. Believe me, some of the stories I hear from men, young and old, who’ve just sold their last bit of property, or who bring other, harder men with them to the bank and simply sign over horses, carriages, houses—if I ever lose more than a pound in one evening, I take my leave.”
“Ye’re a wise man, Crowley. There’s the other side too, though, the harder lads who willnae forgive a debt made at a weak moment. Do ye see the same ones over and over, coming to collect their winnings?”
“I have seen several of them more than once,” the banker admitted, his comically forlorn gaze lowering to his empty mug.
Aden signaled for another pair of beers. “I’ve heard of one lad, nae here in London for long, who’s leaving naught but destruction in his wake. Looks like a hawk or a vulture or someaught, and likes to wear a naval captain’s uniform. Ye run across him? I’d like to know where I shouldnae be.”
“I have seen him. Distinctive-looking fellow. He and a round man, a Lord Something or other, came into the Bank of England a few weeks ago. I’m generally in the back doing paperwork, but I felt the need for a cup of tea. Have no idea what they were doing there, but the younger man, the round one, looked decidedly… unhappy.”
The round lad would be Lord George Humphries. So either Vale enjoyed tagging along while his blackmail victims did their banking, or Lord George had given the captain blunt in addition to claiming him as a cousin. Aden wasn’t certain yet if that was a useful bit of information, but it was damned interesting, anyway. “Ye’ve nae seen him gaming, though?”
Crowley snorted. “My boy, I play for shillings. This hawk fellow and I do not move in the same circles. I did see him walking in the direction of Boodle’s a week or so ago.” He sent Aden an assessing glance. “You’re a viscount’s brother, are you not? You would likely have better luck than I would at finding him—or if you mean to avoid him as you said, you’re doing so quite well by being here.”
The banker had realized that this wasn’t a casual conversation, then. Aden had been fairly certain that Crowley and Vale did not travel in the same circles, though, or he would have approached the banker more cautiously. Sometimes finding someone who knewabouta man was more useful than finding someone whoknewa man. A certain distance lent itself to honesty. Taking another swallow of horrid beer, he shrugged. “I like a challenge,” he said with a half grin.
“I may not have sat across a table from this man, MacTaggert,” the banker said, lowering his voice and leaning forward a little over the table, “but I do have ears, and I do cross paths with the occasional lordling such as yourself. I don’t know you well, but you seem like a decentfellow. This other man, this captain, though… Well, you might be wiser keeping your distance… as you claim to be doing.”
