Page 41 of Good Duke Gone Far

George simply nodded. Waving at the trays, he said, “Take all the snacks you want. Line your pockets if you care to. There will be plenty more later, but you might need something now.”

Already done, George. Already done.

Chapter 15

“WHAT’STHEPLAN?”QUINNducked his head as a carriage rolled by with a wide load of branches sticking out every side. The pair of them, Quinn and Kat, stood just outside the tavern where they suspected the Bow Street runner may have stopped for a drink, or three.

“The plan is to go in and ask him what the hell he’s been doing with my parents’ money.” Smoothing her hair was certainly the first action to prepare for going in to do battle.

“What are you going to ask him?”

“I just told you. I’m going to ask him what the hell–”

“Alright. I heard you. I mean, how are you going to ask him?”

“Quinn.” Kat folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know how else to tell you this. I’m going to walk up to the man, point my finger at his chest, and ask him what the hell…you know the rest.”

Just before he could reach up past his jaw to tug on his ear, Kat replied, “Tug on your ear all you want. Think it through from every possible angle. I know you want to, so I know you will. But that’s the plan.” Her dress swayed as if she were tapping her foot underneath all those layers.

“Now, are you coming?” she half asked and half demanded.

“You don’t want to think this over any more? There could be other approaches we could take.”

“There are a million different approaches we could take. I’m taking this one.”

“Have you thought it through?” He asked in a last ditch effort.

“I’ve been thinking about it since I received the letter from my parents. Let’s go.” The swaying layers whirled around her ankles, and he watched–in awe or fear, he wasn’t sure–as she pulled open the door.

Without a pause, she marched up to the bar and sweetly demanded, as sweet as a demand could be, “Have you seen any Bow Street runners in here of late?”

A grunt for a reply almost led to a louder demand, but Quinn caught the tilt of the jaw just in time. It pointed a few paces away to a man with his head on the table and a hand around his tin.

“I said–”

“This way, my love.” Quinn placed his hand on the small of her back to nudge her away from unnecessary confrontation.

Kat turned to face him. “I was asking the man a question.”

“And he gave you an answer, doll.” Quinn mimicked the jaw tilt with an over exaggeration.

He watched her eyes follow his gesture to its rightful target. “Hmph.” And she sauntered off.

Kat plopped herself down at the table and swatted its surface. The man didn’t budge. She smacked it harder and cleared her throat. Nothing.

Quinn reached over and removed the tin from the man’s tangled fingers.

“Hey, what’s the meaning of this? I was drinking that?”

A bleary-eyed, red-rimmed, fluid-streaked face looked up at Kat. Looked up and down at Kat. Looked over and rested on the bosom of Kat. Quinn’s reflection of the observation wasn’t satisfying. On so many levels. Mainly, it wasn’t satisfying to Quinn because he needed to add one more word. A very possessive word. His. The louche was looking athisKat.

“Well, if this is the disruption, I’ll take it,” the louche had the audacity to say.

“I have some questions for you.” Kat announced.

“Some?” Quinn murmured. He thought the plan fully consisted of only one. Regardless, he would hold his place standing at her side, ready if she needed him.

“Primarily one question. And really, it’s quite simple. What the hell are you doing with my parents’ money?”

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