Thackery circled back and knocked my shoulder. “Sir, you need to keep moving if you are going to enjoy all that the club has to offer.”
I nodded and moved in the direction he pointed, a long bar. “The waiter is pouring drinks. You could use one.”
The man filling goblets wore a dark livery with a starched cravat.
So similar to the duke. I could smell Repington’s starch, his rum.
This cosmetic must be burning me up, making me emotional, making me think such odd things.
With a shake of my head, I cleared away these girly feelings and repeated manly things—gambling, excess, boots, polished and glossed black.
Then I heard a voice that cut up my insides.
Markham.
The blackguard was here.
Over my shoulder, I saw that high, pinched nose lifting in the air.
The knife in my pocket called to me. I hated him enough. From what was said at the last gaming hell, I knew he’d taken advantage of Colin as much as he had me.
Hand on the bulge in my pocket, I turned.
At the door, the fiend stood. The above-it-all sneer on his horrible pale face once drove fear into my heart. Not now, not with my baby safe with Repington.
Something caught my arm. The jerking almost flipped the knife from my fingers.
Thackery handed me a glass of wine. “I may have forgotten to mention Mr. Markham frequents this establishment. Take a sip and go to the bar.”
“He’s responsible for all that has happened. All that has gone wrong.”
“Yes, but you are responsible for your future. Turn around. Let the anger pass. Let clear thoughts prevail.”
That was the opposite of everything I wanted, but I forced my feet to move. I had to be smart, smarter than I had been before.
Swirling the crystal goblet, I watched the deep burgundy kiss the sides of the glass, then leave tinted legs, little rose breeches before dripping and settling.
As I put the wine to my lips, the hair on my arms and the braids under my wig stood on end.
Markham stood beside me at the bar.
Not spitting or cutting my eyes at him, I kept my head down, sipping slowly from my glass. If he saw my gaze, he’d know my face and the hate in me.
“LaCroy, there’s Sullivan.” The barrister pointed across the room. “I believe he’s who you need to see to get credit. You lost enough at the last club.”
Markham slammed down a coin. “Sullivan’s a little light tonight.”
“I think my friend will take his chances. He’s very persuasive. Go, LaCroy.”
I put down my nearly empty glass, but something inside said not to leave my drink near the worm, Colin’s uncle, so I handed it back to the waiter. Then I made my boots move.
“Wait.” Markham said.
My heart thundered.
My breath stuck in my throat. Fingers again curled about my knife, I looked over my shoulder, daring him to acknowledge me. “Yes.”
“Let me know if he does lend money. Good to know he’s still in the business for others.”
