Page 25 of A Devious Secret

Stephen stood his ground. “You don’t want to fight me.”

The man with rotting teeth stepped closer until he stood toe to toe with Stephen. “This is yer last warning. Just give us some coins and ye can be on yer way.”

Ignoring the man’s bad breath, Stephen said, “I can assure you this is not a fair fight.”

“Ye got that right,” the last man shouted.

As they stood there staring at one another, he heard a familiar voice next to him. “What in the blazes are you doing here?”

Stephen turned his head and saw Lord Hawthorne standing there with a bewildered look on his face.

“I had an errand I needed to see to,” Stephen replied.

“Did that errand involve fighting with ruffians?” Hawthorne asked.

The man with rotten teeth turned towards Hawthorne. “Who are ye calling ruffians?” he demanded.

Hawthorne chuckled. “You did well, David.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a few coins. “Now leave this man be.”

David collected the coins and clutched them in his hand. “It is a pleasure to do business with ye,” he said with a flamboyant bow.

As the three men walked off, Stephen turned towards Hawthorne. “I had that under control. There was no need to pay them to let me pass.”

“I didn’t,” Hawthorne said. “They handled a job for me a few days ago.”

“What kind of job?”

Hawthorne brushed his question to the side and asked one of his own. “What are you doing here, Stephen?”

Stephen delayed his response as he studied Hawthorne’s tattered clothing. His jacket was ill-fitting, threadbare, and his boots were scuffed. What was an earl doing wearing such clothing? Although, he did not look out of place in this section of town. Most of the men wore clothing that needed to be mended and a good washing. But for what purpose was Hawthorne trying to blend in?

Hawthorne crossed his arms over his chest. “I hadn’t taken you for a gambler,” he said in an accusing tone.

“I’m not,” Stephen responded.

“Then what are you doing here?”

Stephen tugged down on the lapels of his jacket. “I am looking for someone.”

“Here?” Hawthorne glanced up at the building. “The Scarlet Lady is a notorious gambling hell and spits out more people than it can chew.”

“I was not aware of its reputation but that means little to me.”

“Go home, Stephen,” Hawthorne encouraged. “This is not a place for someone like you.”

“But it is for you?”

Hawthorne shrugged. “I have been in worse places.”

That didn’t answer Stephen’s question, but he knew it would be best to bring Hawthorne into his confidences so they could get off the street. “I am looking for my first lieutenant, Benjamin Heathcote, and his sister said that he was known to frequent the Scarlet Lady.”

“I have never heard of Benjamin Heathcote.”

“That is because he is entirely below your notice,” Stephen said. “I am hoping that someone in the Scarlet Lady knows where he is.”

“How long has he been missing?”

“About six weeks.”