Aden shoved him over and grabbed him by the shirt with one hand to punch him with the other. He had to make this work. He’d given his word. “Ye delusional wee man,” he growled. “All ye have is some bits of paper. Paper burns. Houses burn. I know where ye live. And a corpse cannae collect on any debts.”
“Enough!”
A burly man in Boodle’s livery shoved them apart. Immediately another half a dozen footmen and waiters stepped between them, grabbing arms and legs. “You’re going to have to leave the premises, Mr. MacTaggert. Our members do not engage in fisticuffs inside the club.”
“You heard him!” Vale shouted, struggling to his feet and falling again. “He threatened my life! I won’t have him a member of this club! He should be locked up!”
“I’ll nae be a member of any club that would havehim.” Pulling free, Aden landed another kick at the retreating Vale. “Dunnae make any bloody plans for tomorrow, Vulture. Ye dunnae have another sunrise coming to ye.”
“Nor will you be a member of this club. Or any club, I’d warrant,” the big Boodle’s enforcer went on. “Leave now, sir, or we will be forced to summon Bow Street.”
Aden shrugged out of the grip of the men holding him as Lord George and Matthew belatedly helped Vale to his feet. He jabbed a forefinger in the navy man’s direction. “I ken where ye fucking live, ye bastard,” he snarled. “Dunnae go home tonight, Humphries. Ye may find it a wee bit warm.”
Grabbing his beaver hat away from one of the footmen, he jammed it on his head and stalked for the door. He kept walking until he reached Loki outside.
“That was… unexpected,” Niall said from behind him.
Aden kept his back turned to his brothers. “Grab me and yell at me that I cannae be serious,” he whispered as loudly as he dared, “then meet me around the corner.” Only then did he turn around to face his brothers and Boodle’s bow window beyond them. “I know exactly how to stop Vale!”
Niall looked unhelpfully puzzled, but Coll strode forward and dug fingers into Aden’s labels, yanking him practically off his feet. “Ye cannae be serious!” he bellowed.
“I’ve nae been more serious in my damned life!” Aden returned, and broke free to swing up on Loki and gallop away.
As soon as he turned the corner out of sight of Boodle’s he reined in the chestnut and patted him on the withers. Straightening, he wiped a string of blood from his chin. He wouldn’t be wagering anywhere in London again. Not after that. The flash of regret he expected, though, didn’t come. Instead, far too many of his thoughts centered on imagining dark-brown eyes and a soft mouth that tasted of strawberries, rather than the dozen next possible stepsthat lay ahead. This was all for her, and that all by itself made it worthwhile.
“What the devil are ye about?” Niall demanded, drawing up beside him. “Ye ken ye just… Are ye mad? Ye’ll nae be welcomed at any club in London now, Aden.”
“He kens,” Coll put in from the back of his big Friesian, Nuckelavee.
“But—”
“Coll gave me an idea. I meant to make this a battle of nerves and skill, a chess match, but then Vale had to gloat before he had any right to do so, and I… Well, Coll suggested fists.”
“Of course he did. Why’d ye listen to him?”
“Because Vale said things about Miranda that ye dunnae say about any lass. And then I reckoned Vale’s accustomed to battles of nerve and skill, which is what I’d planned to give him. He’s heard threats and warnings aplenty, too. But from what Coll discovered and what we found in Portsmouth, I doubt he’s been bloodied before. Men have likely said they wanted him dead, but how many have proven their willingness to actually kill him? They were likely too busy with giving in, and giving him what he wanted so they could buy back their debt. And who in their right mind would publicly threaten to burn another man’s house down just to put a dent in the bastard’s plans?”
“Nae a one,” Niall supplied. “But how does this help ye? And Miranda?”
Aden shook out his bruised fingers. This was the part that worried him the most, the bits over which he had no control, the bits where he hoped that indulging himself in losing his temper might actually have benefited them. “A bit of patience and a pint of luck, and we’ll see.”
“So ye planned on being blackballed?”
He shrugged. “Aye. Eventually. Vale being a foulmouthed pig altered the way I meant to go about it, though.”
“Aden.”
“I gave that lass my word. Do ye reckon for a second that I would go back on it?”
“Nae. What are we waiting for, then?”
“A note. It’ll be delivered to Oswell House, though, so we need to get back. I dunnae ken how much time we’ll have.”
And if this all ended up going to the devil, he wanted at least one more moment with Miranda Harris before he went to stop Vale permanently.
“You should eat something,” Eloise urged, pushing a plate of biscuits closer to the middle of the breakfast table. “Something sweet. That always makes me feel more optimistic.”
Miranda looked up from the tart she’d been stabbing to death. “Hmm?”
