“Wager?” Henry frowned. The man had made good by way of a sapphire and diamond necklace. What else did he owe?
Henry sat up and was completely awake in an instant. “Is he alone?” he asked slowly.
“No. A rather disheveled young woman is with him.”
Bloody hell. “Get Pickmore and show them into the library.”
“Library, sir?”
“Library!” It was closest to the front door, which they would be leaving by instantly. The last thing Henry wanted was for them to be traipsing around his house, visiting any rooms far more suitable forinvitedguests. “Have someone with them until I come down.” Brendan Doyle was down on his luck and desperate and Henry didn’t want the man taking anything that didn’t belong to him.
“Very good, sir.” The butler bowed and quit the room as Henry jumped from the bed.
“Damn and blast!” The bloke had been serious when he had wagered his sister.
Well, Henry was having none of that. He’d even give back the blasted necklace to make them go away if he had to.
“What is going on, Kilsyth and why do you need me at this wretched hour?” Pickmore demanded as Henry stepped into the corridor after dressing.
“It’s only wretched because we found our beds only five hours ago. As a military man, I assumed you’d be awake already.”
“I’m no longer in the military,” Pickmore reminded him as he tried to cover a yawn.
Unlike the other Devils, upon leaving Cambridge, Pickmore had purchased a commission, at his father’s insistence while most of the Devils remained in England or traveled abroad for only brief jaunts. After escorting a spy back from India, the Home Office had decided that it was best that Pickmore resign his commission so that he could be of better use in England and abroad, if he chose to travel as a gentleman. From what Henry understood, Pickmore was glad to be back in gentleman’s clothing—permanently.
“Doyle has come to make good on his losses.”
“Why does that requiremypresence?”
“He wagered his sister.”
Pickmore stopped and stared at Henry with a bit of intrigue. “His sister, you say?”
“His sister!”
“Yes, well, that’s highly unusual.” Pickmore frowned.
“I didn’t believe the man to be serious,” Henry defended. “He only wished to win back the necklace.” Henry stomped toward the stairs. “One doesn’t wager another soul in a game of chance. It just isn’t done.”
“Well, apparently, it is,” Pickmore said with a bit of humor, which was certainly not at all appropriate for the current situation. “When a wager is made at a gaming table, you must always take it with the utmost seriousness.”
Who honestly believed a man would wager a sibling? Henry still wasn’t certain Doyle wasn’t up to something else. “Well, we’ll just take care of this matter and send the bloke,andhis sister, on their way.”
Henry paused as he had found his housekeeper waiting at the foot of the stairs. Mrs. Peade had come with the townhouse when he purchased it. Not that she was a part of the price, but she’d been the housekeeper for the former owner before he died and had stayed to see to the place. Henry had been happy to keep her on as well. It was the best choice a gentleman could make as Mrs. Peade had proved to be quite indispensable. Not only did she oversee the various servants and saw to the house, but she also held many of his secrets, such as his position with the Home Office, without batting an eye.
“Would you like tea sent in?”
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Peade. They won’t be staying.”
“Very good, sir.” She turned and walked down the corridor and toward the back stairs that led down into the kitchens.
Suspicion settled in Henry’s gut as he started for the library. What did he really know of Doyle, except that the man had lost everything last night, and was drunk while doing so? What if Doyle and his sister were part of a plan to fleece him of more?
Or could this be a grander more nefarious plan to trap him somehow?
“Oh, Mrs. Peade,” he called.
She turned. “Yes, Lord Kilsyth?”
