The scowl on Shank’s face deepened. “Because you should be at your club, cheating good people like me out of their wealth.”
Robert held his hands wide. “Can we help it if you are a lousy player who does not know when to stop?”
Shank took a step away and faced Robert directly. “What is it? What do you want?”
“The White Stallion.”
Shank’s eyebrows arched and he leaned back, his eyes gleaming. “Yeatman always said you would return to us.”
Robert clinched his fists at his side, resisting the urge to pound the man into the pavement. “How do I find them?
Shank’s smile shifted into a smirk. “You know you do not find them. They find you.”
“How?”
“Why?”
“My business.”
Shank shook his head once. “No. Why should I tell you?”
“Five thousand pounds.”
The smirk vanished. “I beg your pardon.”
“You owe Campion’s more than five thousand pounds. That’s the house limit for running a debt, unless overridden by the owner.” Robert attempted to shrug in a nonchalant manner. “That’s well known. I’m calling in the debt. You can pay it”—he shrugged again—“or you can give me a reason to let it ride to a larger amount.”
“Blackmail.”
Robert gave a fanciful frown. “A harsh term. I am hardly a Border Reiver.” Another shrug. “There is an alternative. We can barter.”
Shank’s shoulders dropped an inch. “I tell you what you want. You wipe out the debt.”
“That would be an alternative, yes. If what you tell me bears fruit.”
“If it bears fruit, you raise my limit to ten thousand.”
“Seven. If it bears fruit.”
“And you consider the current debt paid.”
“Up to five.”
Shank straightened. “You revel in people’s belief that you are a brainless toff.”
“It serves a purpose.”
“Take your young friend—do not look surprised, we have noticed—and go to White’s. Place a wager in the book on the White Stallion for Saturday’s races. They’ll be in touch.” Shank looked at Robert from under half-lidded eyes. “We have a bargain?”
“When the fruit is plucked.”
Shank took two steps away, then looked back at Robert. “Yeatman will be pleased to know his instincts about you were correct. That you would eventually return.”
“I’m sure he will be more than surprised.”
Shank’s grin betrayed his pleasure at the turn of events. He touched the brim of his top hat, then spun on his heel and stalked away.
As the man turned a corner, Robert sagged as the breath he had been controlling leeched the tension out of his muscles on a long exhale. Fatigue warred with the craving to punch something, to expend a long-held rage. He felt the boxing salon adjacent to the emporium calling to him, and he would definitely head there later.
