Livy dashed toward the door. “I think whoever is masquerading as Fong had an affair with Hadleigh’s wife…and may thus have a personal vendetta against Hadleigh!”
The spotted billiard ball dropped into a pocket. Across the baize-covered table, Thorne’s smile was smug as he straightened after taking his shot. “Sorry, old b-boy. I win again.”
Ben knew the bastard wasn’t sorry in the least. Which was why he’d been deliberately letting the other win at billiards all night, with substantial wagers made on the outcome. Men in good spirits were easier to tap for information.
“Where is Stamford tonight?” Ben asked casually as he retrieved the balls.
“He sent a m-message saying he has a head cold or something of the sort. Namby-pamby fellow.” Thorne gave a derisive shrug. “Stamford never managed to fill your shoes. I’ll confess that I wasn’t certain at first about your return, Hadleigh, but now I can say that it is g-good to have you back. Cheers, old boy.”
Thorne held up his whisky in a toast.
Ben had no choice but to reach for his own glass. “Cheers.”
It was only his second serving of alcohol thus far; he’d managed to appear like he was drinking more than he actually was. The more the other men indulged, the less they would notice his minimal participation in the various forms of depravity Bollinger had made available to his guests this eve. As Ben set up another billiards game, his vision briefly wavered.
His period of abstinence had affected his ability to hold his drink. Luckily, the wave of dizziness passed, and his mind cleared once more. He couldn’t help but see the irony of it: abandoning his vices had made him more susceptible to their effects. In trying to become a better man, he’d made his present mission more difficult.
The memory of Bea’s visit flashed in his head. His chest knotted as he recalled the doubt in his sister’s eyes, the resignation and anger. Even if he had been able to tell her that his recent behavior was just a ploy, would she have believed him? He’d broken her trust too many times. Caused her pain for which he could never make amends. He’d deserved her parting shot.
“It was my fault for thinking better of you, Hadleigh,”she’d said bitterly.“A leopard never changes its spots.”
Perhaps there was no escaping his past. Perhaps redemption was a mere illusion.
Yet for Livy, his love and duchess-to-be, he had to try to wipe his slate clean.
Edgecombe sauntered in. “Still at the billiards, fellows?”
The earl had lost his cravat, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat. His face bore traces of rouge from the two French prostitutes he’d taken upstairs.
“Bed sport isn’t a m-man’s only choice of entertainment,” Thorne said.
“While the two of you play with your own balls, I prefer,” Edgecombe drawled, “to delegate the task.”
The risqué quip drew appreciative guffaws, and Ben found himself laughing along.
Rising from the divan where he’d been nursing a bottle of brandy, Bollinger stumbled over.
“Speaking of tasks, I’ve been thinking.” His words were slurred. “I should take Hadleigh with me on my errand tomorrow night.”
Seeing the significant looks exchanged, Ben felt a surge of euphoria.
At last, news of Fong. My plan is coming to fruition.
Giddy with success,he strove to keep his wits about him.
“Have you heard from Fong?” he asked. “Is a shipment arriving?”
“Yes. And the fellows and I think you’re ready to help,” Bollinger said.
“You have to earn your keep along with the rest of us, Your Grace,” Edgecombe said with a smirk. “If you want Longmere’s cut, then you’ll be taking over his position on the route.”
“There’s a route?” Ben asked.
“It’s all very hush-hush.” Thorne’s gaze glittered with illicit thrill. “We had to solve a r-riddle to figure out where to pick up the Devil’s Bliss.”
“You’ll see for yourself tomorrow night,” Edgecombe said.
He gave Ben a slap on the back. Ben pitched forward, catching himself against the billiards table, his vision swimming. He felt as if he’d suddenly plunged underwater, the voices and faces around him growing blurry and indistinct. At the same time, he was oddly content to float there, listening to the ebb and flow.
