“I agree,” Sophia chimed in. “If the Horse and Hen is flash ken, why didn’t we discover that when we paid a lad to find the location? Surely, we would have heard something?”
“Maybe they do a good job of hiding their criminal activity?” suggested Mr. Powys.
Eoin shook his head. “It was obvious that something was amiss as soon as we entered the Horse and Hen. Pretending is not their strength.”
Hannah nodded. “I agree. They would have been more welcoming. If they’ve kept things quiet, it’s through intimidation, not stealth.”
“Which means they must exert some degree of power.” Sophia drummed her fingers thoughtfully against the table in front of her. “I haven’t heard of any particularly powerful groups occupying the area around the Horse and Hen, though.”
“Isn’t that in itself odd?” Hannah said. “That there’s a gap, especially for a back alley with so many illicit establishments?”
“Are there any shadowy organizations that you’ve heard whispers of?” Eoin asked, as he dutifully filed away each new piece of information. Although he’d read literature about spidery networks of thieves, this wasn’t the world that he’d studied.
“No.” Hannah answered the question too quickly, and she briefly sucked in her lips when she finished speaking—often a sign of dishonesty. Unease whooshed through Eoin. Was Hannah hiding something from him? And why?
“The Horse and Hen.” Lord Percy spoke the words slowly as if he was testing each one out as he scratched at his temple.
“Is the name familiar to you?” Eoin asked, welcoming the distraction. He didn’t want to suspect Hannah—the first person who’d ever really lent him assistance.
“Yes.” Lord Percy made a frustrated grimace. “But I simply can’t place it. It floats tantalizingly at the peripheries of my memory, but then it dances out of reach like a will-o’-the wisp.”
“Does the name stir up any vague sentiments?” Eoin asked, trying to gentle his normally clipped tone. It was hard for him, though, not just to speak in a virtual monotone. Only with Hannah was it easy to speak freely.
Percy stopped flicking at his overcoat as he sat perfectly still. “Negative, I suppose. But it is odd that I am the one to know about the Horse and Hen. Unlike you, I’ve never heard of a boozing ken. I would have thought that it was some sort of pub, but Hannah said it was a criminal hideout.”
“That is right,” Eoin confirmed.
“My morals are not the most upstanding. In fact, they are likely in need of good polish. But my illicit dealings are confined to drinking smuggled French brandy and attending a clandestine horse race.” Lord Percy waved one of his gloved hands. “I am certainly not one to traipse into dark alleys for furtive business.”
“Perhaps the name is similar to another place you frequent,” Sophia suggested.
Lord Percy immediately brightened. “I say, that does make the most sense. I am a member of the Horse and Trot, a wonderful chocolate house dedicated to all things equine-related. Perhaps I was merely thinking of that.”
“I can ask at the Grand,” Mr. Powys offered. His voice was still surly, and his arms remained crossed over his chest, but at least his fingers were no longer balled into fists.
“I’ll check to see if my older brother has heard rumors about the Horse and Hen.” Lady Calliope smiled graciously at Eoin, causing Mr. Powys’s glower to deepen. “If a lord is involved, he might have heard some rumors.”
“The tavern was very run down. It didn’t look like the secret haunt of a nob,” Eoin pointed out.
“But we didn’t see the basement or the upper floors, and there could be a hidden room like this one,” Hannah pointed out. “No matter, it won’t hurt to ask.”
“My brother loves a good mystery,” Lady Calliope said. “It will be a grand lark for him to make inquiries.”
“Why doesn’t he ever join us?” Mr. Powys asked.
“When his paternal uncle died, he vowed never again to grace any respectable establishment,” Lady Calliope explained.
Sophia laughed good-naturedly. “Never thought I’d hear the Black Sheep being called too respectable for a duke.”
Hannah joined her cousin’s mirth. “Perhaps we need to add some more debauchery.”
“Boozy coffee!” Lord Percy called out, lifting his glass high.
“Doesn’t that defeat the stimulating rush?” Dr. Talbot asked.
“Does it really matter as long as it tastes as divine as Sophia’s other creations?” Mr. Powys asked.
“Just have Pan recite naughty lines from Shakespeare,” Lady Charlotte suggested.
