“Why indeed,” Jaxsen muttered. “But the problem remains… Who is trying to free Napoleon? Clearly, we have the evidence that states its certainly underfoot, but who is running the operation?”
Emerson whispered something under his breath, and Jaxsen’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
“Loyal to money not country,” he repeated.
Gears turned in her mind. “Someone who wants to keep their hands clean—”
“But isn’t afraid of a little dirty money.”
It was a truth that had been accurate for decades, centuries -- even millennia. Follow the money trail. It always led somewhere.
“Last night…” She frowned, her mind working to recollect the exact details.
“Yes?” Emerson asked then took a seat on the desk beside her, his thigh in her line of sight as she concentrated, decidedly breaking said concentration.
She glanced up, meeting his gaze, which was worse. Her mind went blank. Turning her head to the fire, she studied the flames and found her train of thought. “The Faro table. Daverson lost.”
“Yes.”
“On purpose.”
When Emerson didn’t answer, she turned her gaze back to his. His eyes were approving. “You noticed. I forgot about that detail.”
She smiled. “It would be a convenient way to donate money to a cause without being caught.” She hitched a single shoulder.
“Indeed, because one could easily lose money at the Faro table without anyone blinking an eye.”
“Exactly.”
He stood then ambled around the room, teacup in hand. “So, Wessix is the collector of the funds, and Daverson is one of the, assumedly, many donators.”
“Exactly.”
Emerson nodded once and met her gaze. “He bet on dead cards.”
“Several times.”
“No man worth his salt in Faro would do such a thing, unless deep in his cups. And even then…” Emerson gave his head a shake.
“And neither man was drinking. I gave the ale, but neither touched it.”
“Odd, that.”
“Keeping their wits about them for the meeting later. Probably men also donating.”
“So, we are back to square one.”
“Indeed. Wessix,” Jaxsen replied and then smiled. “Which means we have a party to attend.”
“Oh?” Emerson asked with a wry grin.
“Yes, tomorrow night. I’ll meet you there.”
“Are you saying I get to sleep tonight? How benevolent of you.”
“You need to look pretty for the party tomorrow, and you’re quite lackluster at the moment.” She ran her gaze up and down his body, as if assessing and then dismissing. She glanced away and bit her lip in amusement, catching a glimpse of his irritation at her before she’d fully turned away.
“Why, thank you for the compliment.”
