“I am,” Freya declared with as much strength of character as she could muster.
“Good,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon declared. “I have a few more questions regarding the whereabouts of Lord Graham so we might place you in his path more often than he expects. You must be prepared to respond with both speed and secrecy. I shall send word to…”
“To one of us three,” Lady Emma instructed. “Lord Cunningham might become suspicious and intercept any communication directed to his daughter’s attention.”
Graham picked hisway across the open space before the Lyon’s Den. He had been looking all over London for his brother Boyde. They were to dine together this evening, but Boyde had sent word around after Aaran had already settled at a table at White’s. Supposedly, Boyde had encountered some “fellows he knew from university,” which meant his brother would drink too much and likely lose all of his money and be asking Aaran for more so Boyde’s mother would not learn of his escapade, and, if she did learn of her son’s choices, Lady Rayland would place the blame for Boyde’s sins squarely on Aaran’s shoulders, though Aaran never gambled unless it was some sort of business speculation, and he generally drank in moderation.
“Good evening, my lord,” Titan said as he bowed to Aaran. “Have you decided to dine with us this evening? I know you are not often seen at our gaming tables.”
Aaran nodded his greeting. “Not unless the deck is stacked in my favor.”
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon frowns on marked cards,” Titan said with a smile.
“I understand my brother is inside,” Aaran explained. “I thought I should check upon him.”
“I guarantee none of your brothers are within my lord,” Titan assured him.
“Not my Duncan brothers,” Aaran explained. “My half brother. Lord Boyde Graham, Lord Pitcairn. Up from his stepfather’s estate. Supposedly within, along with some of his friends from university.”
Titan nodded his head in affirmation. “They have taken on some of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s dares.”
“Wonderful,” Aaran grumbled. “I despise a drunken university lad.”
“Not as much as I,” Titan said as he held the door for Aaran. “They always grab at my lame hand for support.” The Lyon’s Den’s manager grinned conspiratorially.
“Or stagger into a man with only one solid leg and expect said man to keep them both balanced.” Aaran shrugged and entered the open door. The noise of cheering could be heard coming from the direction of the gentlemen’s smoking room. The rumpus became louder the closer he came to the open door. It did not take long to determine the spectacle of one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s bets. Seven men stood on their noggins—a small pillow buffering their heads against the highly polished hardwood floor—the wood paneled wall was being used to keep their balance. Aaran’s eyes scanned the row of participants to discover Boyde to be the third one from the left.
“Time?” one of the participants groaned.
“One more minute,” Theseus called out. The Lyon’s Den’s bouncer held a watch in his hand.
“What is amiss?” Aaran asked as he slid closer to where Lord Joseph looked on.
Joseph shook his head in apparent disapproval, though the man was watching the melee, nevertheless. He also handed another quid to Lysander, who was collecting bets after each round of a show of prowess. “Three down already,” Joseph explained. “The fools must gulp down a beer in under two minutes and then stand on their heads for five minutes without burping it up or, worse, requiring a chamber pot. We are on the fourth beer in a bit less than a half hour. Their heels may touch the wall for one minute on and one minute off. If not, they are disqualified.”
“Thanks, Joseph,” Aaran murmured as he made his way to where Boyde and two young gentlemen that Aaran did not recognize were upside down. Though he did not recognize the others, Aaran definitely knew them all to be as callow and unseasoned as was Boyde.
“Thirty seconds, gentlemen,” Theseus ordered as the men remaining swallowed more of the mug of beer.
The other patrons in the room were cheering on different participants, which meant it would be more difficult for Aaran to convince his younger brother to abandon this foolishness.
Boyde burped loudly as Aaran approached and sourness filled the air around them.
“Hurry, Boyde,” one of his brother’s friends urged, and Boyde brought the mug to his lips again.
Aaran reached for the mug and tugged it downward as Theseus counted, “Five, four, three, two…”
“Hey!” one of the young men protested.
“I am his brother,” Aaran declared in warning tones that penetrated the young man’s stupor, as well as all those around him. “I say it is time that Boyde abandons this foolishness.”
“But, I want…” Boyde began before he looked into Aaran’s face and froze. “Aaran? Why are you here?”
“A better question is why you permit others to lead you around like a dog on a leash?” Aaran countered.
“Pardon, my lord,” Theseus said softly. “Will the young man be returning to the event?”
“He will not,” Aaran said before the others could respond. “My brother will be returning to his quarters. Send someone to ask Mr. Jamison to bring my carriage around to the rear exit.”
