“What do you want, Guthrie?” Raphe asked. Perhaps if they got straight to the point, he could get rid of him again soon.
Guthrie chuckled. “Per’aps I just wanted to stop by. See ‘ow ye’re doin’.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Raphe said. Picking up the carafe that stood on a tray on his desk, he poured himself a brandy, downed it and refilled the glass.
“Rough night?” Guthrie asked.
“None o’ yer business,” he said, falling back into the old dialect. “Now tell me what ye’re doin’ ‘ere. I’ve paid off the debt plus some, so the way I see it, I don’t owe ye a damn thing.”
“Is that so?” Guthrie’s eyes narrowed. “We ‘ad an agreement, you an’ I. Did ye honestly think I’d let it go fer a couple o’ pennies?”
Raphe froze. His muscles went taught. “I paid ye a hell o’ a lot more than that.”
“Nevertheless. I ain’t lettin’ it go.”
Raphe glared at him. “That arrangement was made so I could buy me freedom, Guthrie. I’ve done that now, with interest, if I may remind ye. So go find someone else who can fight fer ye.”
Guthrie nodded, and for a long, wonderful moment, Raphe thought he’d managed the situation to his own advantage. But then Guthrie set his glass aside and smiled the smile that Raphe had seen a thousand times before. On the surface it looked pleasant enough, but Raphe knew better. He braced himself for what was to come.
“It’s not just about yer freedom, laddy. It’s also about winnin’. An’ I can’t think of anyone else who’s capable of winnin’ against the Bull.” His smile widened. “He’s the reignin’ world champion. People will pay twice—nay, thrice as much as usual. An’ if ye win . . .” He gave a low whistle.
“How about if I match the expected winnin’s meself,” Raphe suggested, “for yer trouble?”
Guthrie snorted. “Ye really want out, don’t ye?” Raphe nodded. Guthrie studied him a moment, and then shrugged. “Like I said, it ain’t just about the blunt. And besides, ye owe me.”
Raphe’s eyebrows shot up. “How do ye figure that?”
“Because,” Guthrie said, “ordinarily, when a man doesn’t make good on ’is word, I’d find a way to punish ’im. But—considerin’ our ’istory, I’m only goin’ to ask for the fight.” He appeared to consider his nails. “I won’t even mention the fact that ye’re a duke, if that’ll ease the deal fer ye.”
“An’ if I refuse?”
Guthrie pinned him with an unforgiving glare. “After everythin’ I’ve done fer ye? Or ’ave ye forgotten that I was the one who provided ye an’ yer sisters with food an’ a place to sleep at night after ye lost yer ’ome? Ye’d be dead in the street if it weren’t fer me, laddy, or worse, yer sisters would be gettin’ paid to lie on their backs.”
“Bastard!”
“That I ain’t,” Guthrie said, “but I do take care o’ me own.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Everythin’ trickles down, ye know. St. Giles depends on me an’ on the protection I offer. If the Bull wins that fight, it’s a win fer Bartholomew too. ’e’ll take over—toss me out, an’ then where will we be?”
Raphe stared at Guthrie in shock. There was so much more at risk than he’d ever realized. “Ye’re playin’ with people’s lives.”
Guthrie shrugged. “Seemed a safe bet as long as I ’ad ye in me corner.”
“Christ.” Raphe slumped his shoulders, ran both hands through his hair. “There’s never a guarantee. Even if I were to fight, what if I lose?”
“Ye won’t.”
“How can ye be so sure?”
“Because if ye do, Bartholomew takes me place.” His expression hardened. “I might ’ave dabbled in gamblin’, contraband an’ a bit o’ gin distillin’ ’ere an’ there, but I’d never force women an’ children into sellin’ themselves against their will the way ’e would.”
Just the thought of it made Raphe’s stomach churn with disgust. “Then why’d ye make a deal with the devil, Guthrie? Ye knew the risk.”
Guthrie nodded, slowly and with a degree of sadness that conveyed more than words ever would. “All ye need to know is that ye ain’t the only one with their back against the wall.” Rising, he went to the door. “I’ll be in touch—let ye know when an’ where to show up. Once the fight’s over, I’ll let ye off the ’ook.”
Raphe stayed where he was for a long while after Guthrie’s departure, unable to move. How the hell had everything gone so horribly wrong during just one evening? It didn’t seem possible, and yet it was.
Feeling as though his life was being torn apart before his eyes, Raphe eventually managed to get himself to bed, collapsing fully clothed on top of the mattress. But when he woke the following morning, he soon realized that Gabriella and Guthrie were by far the least of his troubles.
Chapter 21
