Now the harsh words I’d overheard between them made more sense. Colin was agitated at Markham, but the fiend had such a hold on him.
The carriage stopped. A footman opened the door to an elegant neighborhood, very different from the shadowy one we’d left. “Piccadilly?”
“Yes. We’re not far from the famed White’s gentlemen’s club.”
Thackery rolled his top hat in his palms. “It’s quite brilliant to place an elite gaming hell so close to where titled pigeons can fly in, perch, and lose their inheritances. My father visited quite often.” His laugh sounded scornful. He scooted closer to the door. “Ready, Jordan?”
“It’s LaCroy. Always when I pretend, LaCroy.”
“It’s best,” Jemina said. “The last thing we need is for gamblers to decide you need to pay his debts.”
Thackery popped on his hat. “Mrs. St. Maur, you continue to amaze me. The way your mind works, adding up numbers and loose ends. You’re right.”
His full lips drooped into a frown. “This may take a little longer than the last. Will you take care?”
Jemina’s brow scrunched as she threaded her needle. “Why longer? Is there a bigger wait to get in? A secret handshake you have to teach Patience?”
“No, I’ve heard their beefsteak is superb. If you two have me dragging about at this late hour, I will be fed. Shall I’ll bring you something back? A treat perhaps.”
“No favors for me.” She handed me my hat. “Take care of LaCroy.”
She grabbed my hand. “You’ll have luck at this one. We’ll know the truth.”
I hoped she was right and feared that she was, too.
With a nod, I followed the barrister out of his carriage and up the steps of Piccadilly.
We checked our hats, but I kept my dinner gloves and shoved my hands behind my back.
Brutish walk in motion, stone face in place, I followed behind Thackery.
“By Jove.”
I’d said that aloud, but at least it was the right god, the English one to express my wonderment.
Mesmerizing. This was no hell, nothing like the last. It was a clean, orderly place. Exquisite furniture with klismos and Egyptian-styled chairs.
Footmen in silver liveries stood along the walls. Had I been in my servant’s disguise I would’ve stood out as too simple and plain.
My pulse swooshed in my ears. It was louder than the yells of the man waving his cards boasting of his stakes as he stood at a crowded table. A collective shout of yeah came from men at a long green stand as they watched a fellow rolling dice.
“Yes, LaCroy. The same cribbage cards and hazard tosses you saw at the last establishment are played here. It amuses me how vice can look different with better lighting. Shall we?”
“Yes, Mrs. St. Maur notices the same about light.”
My heart went to Hamlin, missing its lights—my Lionel and my duke, who were the same, morning, noon, and night.
Part of me, that woman with the easily broken heart, missed being at Repington’s side, him barking out commands while sheltering me from his perceived harms.
“Do keep up, LaCroy.”
Thackery looked cross, but then he sort of smiled as he rubbed his pocket watch. He seemed uncomfortable, as if we were still in the dingy gaming hell.
He coughed. “All is well, my friend. Circulate.”
Circulate? He had to be kidding. I followed close behind the barrister like a puppy, not breaking stride, not slowing until we stood under the grand chandelier.
Shiny clear crystals twinkled above. They grabbed the light of the sconces and scattered it about the room. Pretty and serene, like my old chandelier. I missed it. I missed Hamlin. I was ready to go, ready to make peace with the duke and trust we could work together for Lionel’s benefit.
