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“Yeah, but I didn’t let the press gangs get me,” Wart shot back. “So what are you going to do about this?”
“Kick her out on her arse,” he said darkly.
“Before you know why she’s there?”
“I know why she’s there. His daughters insisted their sainted father could never have done such a terrible thing.”
“Remind me—what terrible thing did he do?”
“Embezzled all the cash from the company he started and ran off. Died in a carriage accident a little too close to Plymouth and Devonport for my piece of mind. They must think I had something to do with the old man’s death.”
“Did you?”
He gave Wart a look. “You just said it—I’ve never been much for unnecessary killing.” He frowned, thinking back to that night.
“So are the daughters right? Not about you, but their father? You think the man was set up?”
He was remembering it far too well, now. Russell’s appearance at his door, the flood of crazy accusations. He’d thought it was a brain fever, particularly when he’d heard the old man had driven his coach off a cliff. And then he’d forgotten about it, putting all his focus on getting his hands on the ships. “I have no idea.”
Wart shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I’ll see what else I can find out for you. Seems to me there was some scandal about one of his daughters running off with some lord who murdered his wife. Can’t be that one, I wouldn’t think. If I were you I wouldn’t say anything for the time being. Wait and see what I can find out before you go turfing her out. Might be interesting.”
Luca thought back to her, sitting in the bed, her eyes wide and her soft mouth trembling. Damn her. Kicking her out immediately would be the smartest thing he could do, before she fouled up his life completely.
But he knew he wasn’t going to do it, and Wart had given him the perfect excuse. “I don’t know,” he said grudgingly. “She’s already proved to be a thorn in my side and I don’t think she’s going to make things any easier.”
“Since when have you cared about easy? Not the Luca I’ve always known. You sure you didn’t have anything to do with her father’s death and the disappearance of all that lovely money? I’m thinking it would have been easy pickings.”
“No,” Luca replied flatly.
“Too bad. I’d think better of you if you had,” Wart said cheerfully. “So what’s it going to be? Give her a kick in the bum and send her on her way, or pretend to believe her?”
“I can think of much better uses for her bum.”
“Must be nice to have servants,” Wart mused, counting the fat stack of paper money Luca had handed him.
“You aren’t the kind of man to pay for something when you can do it yourself or steal it.”
“True enough. And for servants you need a home, and I prefer to move around.” He peered up at Luca. “You want to tell me what you’re going to do with the lass?”
“I think you’re better off not knowing.”
Wart snorted. “How’s that going to go down with that fancy lady you got yourself engaged to?”
He didn’t bother to ask how Wart knew about Gwendolyn. Wart could find out anything he wanted to know, the main reason Luca had come to him. “I think the fancy lady is going to be a thing of the past once I figure out how to get rid of her. I’m better off with my own kind.”
“And what about the Russell chit?”
“She’s a liar and a cheat. I think that qualifies her as my kind, don’t you?” he said calmly.
Wart grinned. “That’s the bad man I’ve known and loved. Let me know how things work out.”
“What do you mean by that? She’s pretty enough—I’ll shag her a few times and then get rid of
her. I don’t need a female hanging around.”
“You’ve never gone to this much trouble for a female before. I don’t think you’re going to be getting rid of her that quickly.”
“Ten quid she’s gone in a week.”
