Gavin had to give it to Percy's brother. Bloody Spitalfields, of all places. Ingenuity—and recklessness—must run in the bloodline.
"If you plan to take the cully, you'd best to do it soon," Magnus continued.
"Why?"
"Fines has gotten himself in debt to Finian O'Brien. As you and I both know, patience isn't one of O'Brien's virtues—from what I hear, he's circling like a shark." Magnus' rheumy eye blinked at Gavin. "You'd better get to Fines while there's any of the cove left."
Bloody fuck. Did Fineswantto get himself killed? Two annoying facts struck Gavin at the same time. First off, though he now knew where Fines was, he couldn't collect the company shares because of his promise to Percy. Second, he'd probably have toprotecther feckless fool of a brother because he was quite certain Percy wouldn't want Fines dead.
The irony of the situation dumbfounded him. More disconcerting was the realization of how much Percy's happiness mattered to him. Of how much he wanted her. The memory of her generous passion in the garden warmed his chest, made him ache to be near her. Though the return of her housekeeper had made it more difficult for her to slip out, she'd promised to meet him at the club this Friday.
A few days apart from her felt like bloody weeks.
"Thanks for the warning," he said to Magnus. "I'll attend to matters."
The old man gave him a worried look. "Has the Marquess of Harteford returned from abroad yet? You'll need a plan to deal with him. He considers Fines a brother, and from what I hear the marquess protects his own."
Gavin knew the hourglass was narrowing. According to his sources, Morgan had made an abrupt departure from Florence last week; the marquess would be back in England within a fortnight at most. Before that happened, Gavin must bind Percy to him, body and soul. He had to be certain of her love and loyalty to him; he had to know that she would choose him over Morgan, her family—anyone else. And carrying on with the wager—keeping her close, seducing her more and more with each meeting—was the way to achieve this goal.
"I'll take care of Harteford," Gavin said.
"Do you need my assistance..." Magnus began when the door flung open.
Garbed in a black, many-caped greatcoat, Stewart looked even bigger and more intimidating than usual. He stalked over to Magnus, dwarfing the frail, older man.
"What's your business 'ere, you old goat?" he growled.
"I'm here to help Hunt, same as you," Magnus said in a calm voice.
"We don't need your help. Hunt's got me to watch 'is back." Stewart's chin jutted up. "Just as I always 'ave—isn't that right, lad?"
Stifling his impatience, Gavin said, "Magnus brought me news of Paul Fines."
"Took your time 'bout it, didn't you?" Stewart said to Magnus. "For the coin you charge, I'd expect be'er service."
"Fines was wilier than most. And I gave Hunt a decent rate... asIalways do." With dignity, Magnus adjusted the fraying lapels of his jacket and turned pointedly to Gavin. "I'll be on my way. Be in touch if you want my assistance with Harteford."
The instant the door closed behind the old man, Stewart burst out, "I don't like that codger, an' I trust 'im even less. You don't need 'is 'elp with Harteford. You've got me."
Hell's teeth.Gavin was not in the mood for one of his mentor's rants. "My business with Magnus is done," he said brusquely. "Is the carriage ready?"
"Aye. But I still—"
"For God's sake, man, let it lie." At his mentor's sullen expression, Gavin said gruffly, "I know you don't like Magnus, but he's been of use, alright? Now let's stop this shilly-shallying, shall we, and go catch ourselves a cutthroat."
* * *
As he watched the hulking bawdy house with its shuttered windows, Gavin said, "What the hell is taking Lyon so long?"
"It ain't stamina, that's for sure," Stewart said from across the dark carriage. Thank God his mentor had recovered from the snit over Magnus—nothing like staking out a brothel to improve the man's mood. "The bastard's a lit cannon—can't 'old 'is liquor or 'is temper," Stewart went on, smirking. "If 'e lasts five minutes with a wench, I'd eat my topper."
Gavin observed the men going in and out of the bawdy house. According to Alfie's reconnaissance, Lyon visited Madame Antoinette's establishment every Thursday from ten to eleven in the evening to indulge in his particular brand of sport. It was one of the rare times Lyon went anywhere unaccompanied and, therefore, the perfect occasion to nab the bastard for questioning.
Percy's parting words in the garden echoed in Gavin's head.Whatever you do, you will be careful? I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.He'd clutched her close, reveling in her sweet concern for him, in all that had passed between them that night. More than sex play. More than he'd known with any woman. Reminded of the conundrum with her brother, Gavin frowned. What the devil was he going to do about Fines?
"It's nearing midnight. Lyon should have come out an hour ago," Stewart said.
Unease stirred, and Gavin set his thoughts aside to focus on the business at hand. "We've waited long enough. We'll have to go in."
