Heavens, you arrogant bastard, Sebastian thought as he rose from his seat, and positioned himself so that he had the Marquess exactly where he wanted him.
“You have done well,” Sebastian said as he shook the man’s hand. “You have bested me tonight and taken the round without batting an eye.” As Sebastian continued rambling, tugged Birchwood into a friendly embrace that lasted mere seconds.
But those few seconds were enough. Deftly, Sebastian slipped his hand into Birchwood’s pocket and withdrew the documents he’d had his eye on all evening. He rapidly replaced them with a roll of parchment that was similar in size and weight to what had been removed.
That was one of the first things he had learned in the service: always leave a replacement, no matter what. A man would not immediately know what was taken if it was just a weight in his pocket. Most men were too preoccupied to pat their pockets often and check to see if what had been placed there was still safe.
“A good game was played, Lord Tithering. Perhaps we will meet again someday, and you will give me a chance to earn back my coins.”
“I think that is unlikely,” Birchwood said as a coarse laugh dribbled from his lips. “Now that I have taken your money pouch, I do not envision our paths ever crossing again.” He straightened his already neat cravat. “After all, how would someone like me ever encounter a man like you except in a place like the Rolled Dice?”
Worthington snorted loudly as he collected the cards from the tabletop and began shuffling them once more. Sebastian spared him just a momentary glance before returning his gaze to Birchwood. It was almost time to make his exit, but first, he had one last thing to do.
Sebastian made a show of straightening his posture, then he tugged on the collar of his jacket in an effort to mimic Lord Birchwood. “I may not look like a dandy, Lord Tithering, but I have friends in enviable places.”
Lord Birchwood’s eyes widened then his gaze flicked up and down Sebastian’s form, truly taking in the state of his garb.
“I suppose that is to be expected,” Birchwood said flatly. “While I might not have ever dared to step foot in your little boxing club, it could be that other members of the peerage deigned to grace you with their presence.”
“Indeed, they did, my lord,” Sebastian dared to continue. “Until I had to close the doors last week, there were several gents who frequented my establishment on a regular basis. You may know Lord Simpkins and His Grace, the Duke of Pillsford?”
Birchwood shook his head automatically, but then frown lines formed on his forehead as if he needed an extra moment to process the names.
“Pillsford, you say?” He gave his head another hearty shake. “I have never heard that name before in my life.”
“Well, what about Tripleton?” Sebastian simply could not help himself from dropping that name into the mix.
“Tripleton?” Birchwood cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder as if he were afraid someone might be listening in on their conversation.
“Aye,” Sebastian continued, “The Earl of Tripleton is a good friend of mine. The last time I saw him, he promised to seek me out soon. Said he’d even take me to a few of his favorite haunts and see if I faired any better at the tables there.”
With that, he drew back, having planted the seeds of doubt within the mind of an already paranoid man.
Sebastian did not wait for Birchwood to rally a response. He exited hastily, slipping out of the side entrance Lord Birchwood himself had entered through before.
He swiped up the overcoat he had not expected to still be there, patting the pockets to see if any of his belongings had been pilfered. Satisfied that his items were right where he left them, he tapped the pocket where he had tucked Birchwood’s stack of documents.
All’s well that ends well…
With the situation handled neatly and efficiently, Sebastian removed his wig, stuffed it into his pocket, then disappeared into the darkness, becoming a shadow himself.
In his study, in the early hours of the morning, Sebastian scrutinized the papers had taken right out the Marquess’ pockets and discovered that Lord Birchwood had been carrying stolen documents.
The stack of parchment was nothing other than a bit of correspondence between some of the faceless lords who embraced cheeky nicknames while doing their shady business.Sebastian recognized several of the pseudonyms from the other file he had been given.
That was only Sebastian’s first thought.
The more he read through the packet of papers, the more he saw matters clearly.
All these men use nicknames… they adopt different monikers… so, what is Birchwood’s handle?
Birchwood… Birchwood…
His eyes darted around the room until they landed on the bookshelf. He popped from his leather seat and crossed the room in three quick strides.
Reflexively, he plucked the French dictionary from the shelf first, then set it aside.
No… something else. Perhaps I should try Latin, after all.
