Page 28 of Taken to the Grave
The porter held out his hand, and Thornton dropped the locket into his waiting palm. He wouldn’t get it back until he and his sponsored guest left for the evening. Should anything untoward occur, Thornton wouldn’t get it back at all.
They were permitted through, and as they climbed the curved stairs toward the main gaming floor, Thornton muttered, “Why do I feel that is the last I’m going to see of that locket?”
“Have some faith,” Hugh replied.
The main floor opened before them, and the crush was impressive. Tables of poker, hazard, faro, and vingt-et-un filled the room, and the patrons crowding around them created a dull roar of noise. Thick cigar smoke hazed the air, muting the already dark interior of wine-red carpet and mahogany paneled walls and furniture. Ladies in masks of all designs mixed withthe gentlemen, and there were a few who did not bother with a mask at all. They stood with the men at gaming tables, smoked cigars, lounged in laps, and laughed and spoke loudly. Hugh still recalled the bolt of fury and lust when he’d spied Audrey walking arm-in-arm with the Marquess of Wimbly. She’d been brave to come here, alone. Heedless and impulsive too.
Hugh’s attention snagged on a deep green velvet curtain near the back corner of the gaming room. A burly guard stood next to it, arms crossed and expression stony.
“What is back there?” Hugh asked. Thornton followed his gaze.
“Your bride wouldn’t be pleased if you entered the back of the house,” Thornton replied.
Hugh glared at him. “I shouldn’t have told you about the special license.”
On the ride to the Seven Sins, Thornton had asked point blank if he’d proposed yet. Unable to settle on a good enough reason to lie, he’d admitted he had.
“What are you doing here with me when you could be marrying her, for god’s sake?” Thornton asked.
Hugh tensed. He and Audrey had agreed to first find Miss Silas and, of course, Sir. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt something else was holding him back.
“She has just cast off her widow’s black,” Hugh said. “Waiting a few weeks would be more proper.”
Thornton snorted. “Since when have you cared about beingproper?”
“Since it will affect Audrey and how she will be received as my new viscountess. Not only is it a demotion in social rank, but let’s not forget I arrested her first husband on charges of murder. I am tainted by scandalandthe fact that I was working class. I don’t want her to suffer socially because of me.”
He exhaled—and having let it all out, felt lighter. He hadn’t even admitted to himself these things until now. Audrey had never shown the slightest bit of care about the slip in her social currency. After so many scandals, she was undoubtedly less influential than she’d been after her marriage to Philip Sinclair.
“She doesn’t care about those things,” Thornton said. Hugh stopped next to a faro table and stared at him. Thornton laughed. “What is that look for, Marsden? Shedoesn’tcare, and you are well aware of that. What is really bothering you?”
Hugh couldn’t answer. Not truthfully. There was something hanging over his head, continuing to darken the horizon, no matter how bright his future with Audrey. And it could not be shared.
He wished he could tell Thornton about Philip. But like Audrey’s strange ability, it was something that needed to stay a secret. Thornton would never breathe a word to anyone, but it would be a burden on his shoulders. He wouldn’t do that to his friend.
Hugh licked his lips. “I don’t want to bungle anything up.”
Thornton grinned. “I enjoy seeing you like this. Rattled. Worried.” He ignored Hugh’s scowl.
“I need to talk to someone about Givens,” Hugh said, ready to be off the subject entirely.
Thornton gestured to a man near a billiards table. He was nearly as large as the porter, and his level attention drifted over the crowd.
“Talk to management and you’ll get nothing except a boot in an objectionable place,” Thornton said. “But Stokes over there and Givens were usually on the same shifts. He’s muscle, but he’s sharp.”
Hugh started for the billiards tables.
“I’m getting a drink. Go easy,” Thornton called after him.
Stokes’s flat eyes noticed his approach. His brows narrowed as Hugh closed in.
“Good evening,” Hugh said. The man remained stone cold. “I’m told you worked shifts with Harlan Givens.”
Stokes nodded but made no attempt to speak.
“You are aware he was killed two days ago?”
Another nod.Hugh sighed. Men like this, the stoic, silent ones, had always been the worst to question. Despite their calm demeanor, they were usually spoiling for a fight. Thornton wouldn’t forgive him too soon if he got himself tossed out on his ear after less than a few minutes of being here.
