Her brother’s insistence made her look at him in annoyance. Letting out a heavy sigh she said, “Nothing that concerns you. Just promise me that you will do your best to remain hidden for the rest of the day while I’m at the orphanage. Do not cause any more trouble for me than you already have.”
With that, the interior fell silent. She knew that Flavian was brooding, and while she might have been harsh, she didn’t care. He had to learn to curb his excesses or she would be forced to let him accept the consequences of his own actions. She had covered for him for months and the notoriety they were starting to gain was not something she was comfortable with. Flavian, on the other hand, was eager to please the public and when they started to place wagers on who would be the victor in his next match, he was happy to comply because part of the proceeds ended up in his pockets.
Fleur had never wanted to take Flavian’s place on the field, but she knew that he wasn’t any good with a sword, while she had learned to fence, among other things, after their father had passed. The only thing her brother did was lift a bottle to his lips.
She didn’t want to become bitter toward her twin. They had always been close because they knew they only had each other to rely on, but she was tired of trying to struggle to make ends meet when the frustrations became too much to bear. They had made their way from Birmingham to Greenwich because Fleur hoped the smaller village and the change of scenery would help to curb her brother’s excesses. Thus far it had not. She was starting to wonder if it might take a serious injury for him to see the deadly game that they were embarking upon.
The carriage pulled up into the inn yard of the Coach and Horses. There were a handful of people who knew the true identity of the figure behind the dark shroud. The innkeeper, Joseph Evans, the stablemaster, Daniel, and George, their coachman. If it wasn’t for the consideration of these three men, Fleur wasn’t sure how she might survive the scandal that would ensue if the truth were ever uncovered. It would surely ruin her reputation and most certainly that of Flavian. She couldn’t comprehend the level of his despondency should he be branded a coward who allowed his sister to fight his battles.
Once the carriage stopped, Fleur put back on her concealing hood and then jumped to the ground. She was eager to don her gown once more and act as though she hadn’t just deceived her opponent and his second, but the rest of the pub who were eager to learn the outcome of the morning. She gritted her teeth, despising their enjoyment and the slight sense of pride that shot through her when they praised Flavian when it washerprowess that they were commending without knowing the truth.
A secret back room in the stables was where Fleur and Flavian kept their costumes. As she removed her hood and flung it into the trunk, she prayed that she wouldn’t have to wear it again anytime soon. Preferably never again, but she knew that miracles didn’t happen overnight.
Nevertheless, as Flavian joined her and tossed his hood into the trunk next to hers, he looked contrite. But then, he generally did each time. His guilt lasted long enough for him to get in trouble again. “I promise I won’t let my temper get the better of me again.”
Fleur’s mouth twisted bitterly. “I’ve heard those excuses before, so forgive me if I can’t put much faith into them now.”
Flavian hung his head as he turned and shuffled over to the door leading back into the stables where he would wait for her to change.
Fleur told herself not to allow her heart to be made heavy by his actions. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, and yet, his vulnerability tugged at her heart. If he could find a proper lady to care for him and love him as she’d done all these years they’d been on their own, Fleur knew that was the only way she might hope to have a chance at a normal life without all of this intrigue.
She set those thoughts aside and put on her gown. The light blue cotton was starting to show signs of wear, her undergarments and petticoats were thin and patched several times. At least her corset and small bustle were still in good order. Nevertheless, it wasn’t as though she had a wealth of funds at their disposal to buy new garments. She was given a decent wage for her work at the orphanage but it was her brother’s spendthrift habits on women and drink that kept them at poverty level. Thankfully, their modest cottage was provided by Joseph Evans at a rent that she could actually afford to pay.
Considering the dire straits, Fleur considered taking a second position as a serving maid at the pub but the idea of listening to the constant innuendo and allowing the rowdy gentlemen customers to fondle her at will did not settle well with her. She had always tried to live a proper life, perhaps to compensate for the wild oats that her brother thought it so necessary to sow.
Fleur was still winding her hair up into a knot, pinning it on her head when she left the stable room and gave her brother a stern warning. “Do try to curb your excesses today, Flavian. I shall see you this evening.”
With that, she headed toward the school.
* * *
Drake was sittingat the bar nursing an ale in the Coach and Horses when his quarry walked in from a back entrance. Davies exchanged a few words with the innkeeper, Mr. Evans, and then he walked over to a table and slouched down into the chair. A drink was set before him, but he reluctantly waved away the offer.
Drake found this curious behavior for someone who had just won a duel; he’d have thought Davies’ victory would have had him riding high.
Grabbing his tankard, he walked over to the table and took a seat across from Davies without being asked to join. The man’s brow instantly furrowed and he opened his mouth just as Drake withdrew a deck of cards from his pocket and asked smoothly, “Are you a gambling man, Mr. Davies?”
The frown deepened. “How did you know?—?”
Drake shuffled the deck with a slight upturn of his lips. “I know a great many things. I used to live a life that demanded it. Most of the time my knowledge was dependent on life or death.”
His companion crossed his arms and gave him a hard look. At least, Drake was sure that was what was intended, but he wasn’t intimidated by the younger man. In fact, Drake had yet to come across an opponent that struck true fear into his chest. He’d lived the life of many men by the time he was twenty-one and never expected to make it that far. “I wish to be left alone.”
As he spoke the words, Drake could see the sweat starting to bead on Davies’ brow, his focus intent on the deck that Drake held. “I don’t think so.” He signaled the serving wench and she sauntered over with a seductive light in her eyes. Drake was not interested in what she had to offer at the moment. “A drink for my new friend, if you please. Put it on my tab.” Davies started to halt the maid’s progress, but Drake added, “Surely you are thirsty after your efforts on the field this morning.”
Immediately the boy tensed. “What would you know of it?” He glanced down at his buff trousers and white shirt, worn blue waistcoat and jacket as if he were still wearing the black shroud from this morning.
“I’m not passing judgment on your actions,” Drake said with a shrug. “As I said, I was once like you.” The maid returned and set a tankard of ale in front of Davies before she walked away, but not without bending forward and offering Drake a glimpse of the shadowed valley of her breasts.
Again, he ignored her in favor of the opponent before him. If Davies was intent on causing havoc with everyone he met, he had yet to make Drake’s acquaintance.
“Who are you?”
Drake snorted. He considered not answering, but since he doubted the pup knew his name, nor the reputation that proceeded it, he answered truthfully. “You can call me, Mr. Porter.” He held up the deck. “Would you care to deal, Flavian?”
CHAPTER2
By the end of the long day, Fleur was eager to sit down and rub her tired feet and get something to eat. She hoped that her brother’d had the kindness to fix supper with what little rations that they had to their name. But cabbage stew would be better than nothing at this point. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger.
