“So you and Elizabeth… you both have had a good life?” Eoin asked haltingly as the wretched tension in his stomach began to uncoil.
“Aye,” his mother said.
“Much better than if I’d been raised as the granddaughterof a duke,” Elizabeth said, punctuating her words with a hearty laugh. “I’m much more suited to the ring than the ballroom. Dancing is boring if you’re not using your footwork to dodge a well-placed blow. I don’t think nobs would take kindly to me landing a facer on one of them. Oh, and I haven’t been Elizabeth for years. Call me Lizzie.”
“You’re not interested in assuming your position in Society, El… Lizzie?” Eoin asked, and disappointment flickered inside him. He’d told himself he’d be content if his mother and his sister wanted nothing from him, yet part of him still had hoped for some sort of a relationship. Although he was fairly certain that he’d masked the sliver of hurt, Hannah surreptitiously stroked his pinkie finger with her own.
“I want to be your big sister again, but I’ve no interest in becoming a lady. Too many rules and even more yards of fabric.” Elizabeth—no, Lizzie now—pretended to theatrically shudder. “But I’ll even endure uncomfortable dresses if it means being part of your life.”
“I promise that I won’t try to change you. Either of you.” Swounds, tears were burning in Eoin’s eyes once more. He had a sister who was willing to fit into a world that she despised just to be close to him. But Eoin meant what he’d said. He knew the pain of being molded into someone else’s image, and he’d never force that upon Lizzie or his mother.
“There will be a scandal if it becomes known that Championess Quick is the mother of the Duke of Foxglen, especially if I do not close the establishment permanently. If we are to have a relationship, it will be necessary to shutter or sell the amphitheater.” Nary an emotion showed in his mother’s voice, but Eoin understood how much the words cost her. His heart squeezed as he realized how much she loved him. Shewas prepared to walk away from the culmination of years of hard work just to protect his reputation. And as much as his mother’s sacrifice touched Eoin, he would never let her destroy her amphitheater.
“You, Lizzie, and I have already lost too much to protect the Aucourte legacy. We should not ransom anything else precious to us to protect an empty title,” Eoin said, and he felt Hannah jerk beside him. Had she thought he’d order his mother to terminate her business? Hurt pricked at Eoin. He did have a reputation for callousness, but surely Hannah comprehended his motivations. After all, he’d explicitly explained them to her. But perhaps he was the one misunderstanding her reaction.
“But there will be rumors—vicious ones.” This time emotion seeped into his mother’s voice. Her worry for him was palpable.
“I am the Duke of Foxglen. I can weather tittle-tattle if you and Lizzie are able to bear it too,” Eoin promised.
“Oh, I like causing scandals,” Lizzie said. “Remember when I challenged the Duke of Blackglen to a bout and then beat him soundly? The caricatures of me were fabulously hilarious. I looked like a cross between an Amazon warrior and a living mountain.”
Eoin failed to see the humor. Although he was not generally prone to physical violence, he found his fingers clenching, almost of their own accord. What print shops had dared to produce such drivel against his sister? She might be a modern Amazonian, but she did not look at all like a giant land formation.
“You fought Blackglen?” Hannah piped up, respect lacing her voice.
“Oh yes. It was years ago when we were both nineteen. He made disparaging remarks about women prizefighters that I simply would not let stand. Hedonistic, conceited nob. Handsome devil, though.” Lizzie laughed again, and another old memory burst back to life. Not of Eoin’s sister, but of his parents gathered around the fire. Papa had said something witty, and Mama had chuckled just like that.
“But we have plenty of time to catch up and even to discuss the future,” his mother said. “What I need to know now is that you’re done visiting the Horse and Hen.”
“Why are you so insistent that we don’t return?” Eoin asked as his alarm reawakened. Was his mother hiding from someone other than his grandfather? “Does it have something to do with the Purveyor?”
“Who?” His mother’s voice was back to being even, but she was rubbing her fingers together. Was she only pretending not to know who the person was? Or did this entire conversation make her nervous?
“We only know the nom de guerre and that this Purveyor holds sway in that part of Covent Garden,” Eoin explained.
Hannah was staying unusually quiet, and Eoin realized she wanted to be as unintrusive as possible for his sake. His whole life, he’d been the one forced to adjust to others’ needs. But Hannah… bold, intrepid Hannah… was considerate of him.
“I only know pieces of what happened in the aftermath of your father’s death,” his mother explained. “The Duke of Foxglen was ashamed that his son was involved in a pro-reform, anti-Hanoverian movement. He and others called us Jacobites—and although we wanted to restore the Catholic-sympathizing Stewarts to the throne, we were not traditional conservatives. We simply wanted better treatment for theIrish, Scots, and common folks. But that mattered little to Foxglen and the Royalists. With Foxglen leading the charge, our entire organization was rooted out. The Horse and Hen was a large complex of buildings—all operations for our political and charitable endeavors. When the warren of buildings fell to disuse, a shadowy figure claimed the entire complex—at least from the rumors that I heard. I tried to avoid any whispers about the Horse and Hen. It hurt too badly, and I wanted to avoid any connection with that place. I didn’t want Foxglen to hear anything about me, or he might have carried through with his threat.”
“Do you know why the Horse and Hen was taken over by another party?” Eoin asked.
“I assume for gin making. It was profitable at the time, and there are many rooms that are only accessible through the cellar of the Horse and Hen. Some of the passages twist through the entire length of the close, and the rooms are walled off from the actual buildings that they’re situated inside of. It is akin to a spider’s web. The leader of our reform movement trusted no one—rightfully so, as it turned out. An ideal sanctuary for dissidents would also suit criminals. There were plenty of places where stills could be set up entirely unnoticed.” Although his mother’s voice remained neutral, she had begun to rub the base of her neck—a clear sign of her distress.
Eoin wouldn’t press her further. At least for now.
An enigma still remained. The underground boxing ring was likely an elaborate blind to hide illegal activities. Somewhere in the network of interconnected rooms, something nefarious was occurring.
Now was not the time for Eoin to unravel the mystery, though. His mother, sister, and Hannah needed to be hispriority. He had to make sure they were well protected before taking any more action. And why would this specter wish to haunt him, especially if Eoin avoided that stretch of Covent Garden until he had adequate defenses in place?
Still, Eoin couldn’t completely stamp out a nascent feeling of misgiving that perhaps he should not delay further inquiries. After all, he had attracted the attention of the Purveyor.
Chapter Sixteen
Could I speak with you privately, Miss Wick?” Lizzie asked.
Hannah noticed that the prizefighter had lowered her voice a few notches, and perhaps she thought she was whispering. She was not. Her words boomed through the Quicks’ sitting room, but fortunately, Eoin and his mother did not seem to notice. They were huddled together on the settee, exchanging stories, and Hannah had been wondering how to politely extricate herself.
“Most assuredly,” Hannah told Lizzie. She thought she did a better job at softening her voice than the prizefighter, but then again, she’d been accused more than once of being overly loud.
