Page 45 of Return to Wildsyde

“Well, get on with it. Some of us have got work to do,” he said, pulling a chair out and sitting down.

“How charming to see you, Hart, it’s been too long,” Leo said pleasantly, earning himself an eye roll from the man himself. “And surely you have finished work for the day? It’s gone nine.”

“You’d know about working for a living, would you?” Hart replied, eyeing Leo with amusement.

Leo didn’t rise to the bait, knowing Hart too well to be offended by the remark. Besides which, Hart was big enough to flatten all of them. Even Ashton would think twice before provoking the man, and he had no sense whatsoever when it came to a good mill. Hart surveyed the table, his gaze resting on Tommy Barrington.

“Well, you don’t look any the worse for wear. Are you well, Thorn?”

“Fit as a flea,” Thorn remarked with a grin, though his older brother was regarding him with concern.

Pip was a serious fellow these days. Leo hadn’t seen him in months and couldn’t remember the last time he’d come here to the club. Once upon a time, Pip had practically lived here, keeping permanent rooms for when he needed them. It had been a long time indeed since they had all been in the same room together. Leo looked around with a familiar sense of regret.

Things were changing. Jules and Conor were married, Pip had clearly found something that occupied him more thoroughly than the club did, and Hart’s ambition to succeed had attained such proportions Leo doubted he even slept, let alone took time off. Lyall had never been one for London life, but he had come and raised a riot with his brothers from time to time. Hamilton seemed to think his disastrous marriage had put paid to that and his brother had lost his sense of humour entirely, no matter that he was free of the woman now.

Ashton and Larkin were still active members, but Leo sensed a change in them too, a new restlessness that would drive them to seek something else in their lives. Thorn was still ready to jump into whatever madness Leo proposed, or he had been, and Muir too, but it felt like things were coming to an end and Leo hated it. So, he was damned if any other bastard was going to end things for them.

“So, you’ve all made a list?” he demanded, deciding it was time to bring the meeting to order.

“No,” Hart said, folding his arms. “I don’t have enemies.”

Ashton snorted at that. “Give over, Hartley. What about that fellow you threw in the Serpentine?”

Hart frowned. “That was ages ago. Besides, he was annoying me.”

“He wanted to fight you because you told him he was an idiot, and you told him he was a bigger idiot for suggesting it, so he hit you,” Ashton reminded him with amusement.

“And I didn’t want to fight him,” Hart replied, folding his arms. “He was half cut, and I wasn’t in the mood.”

“So you threw him in the Serpentine?” Muir repeated, laughing. “I reckon ye have Scottish blood somewhere in ye history, Hart.”

Hart shrugged. “Seemed for the best. Anyway, he’s still an idiot, but that doesn’t make him an enemy.”

“Write his name on the list,” Leo said firmly. “If we’re going to figure this out, we need to consider every option. Has anyone else had any trouble we don’t know of?”

“I think someone was following me last night, but I gave them the slip,” Muir said. “I might have imagined it, but I don’t reckon so. Fair gave me the shivers, though.”

“From now on, everyone must be on their guard,” Leo said firmly. “No staggering out of here, three sheets to the wind and alone. Thorn got worked over good and proper; the next time one of us might not walk away.”

“Can you still think it’s another club trying to put us out of business?” Pip asked. “It seems an odd way of going about it. I can understand the fire, that seems a more obvious attempt, but the attack on Thorn was personal, as was the threat. Whoever it is not only wants to destroy the club, but us along with it.”

Leo shrugged. “It’s an easy explanation when nothing else is obvious. My father has suffered such attempts before now. Success makes people jealous, whether they are trying to compete or whether they’ve simply been turned down for entry. So yes, I still think it could be another club and they’re trying to intimidate us, making it seem personal in the hope we’ll turn tail. I’m not set on the idea, though. It could be someone we rejected, or perhaps someone who lost heavily and blames us. I did think of Lincoln. He’s all to pieces, last I heard.”

“We tried to stop him,” Ashton said indignantly. “When a man insists on gambling on foolish outcomes when he’s already lost so heavily, he has a problem which none of us can solve. We barred him, after all, but he just found his way to the lower hells and completed the job he’d begun. I don’t see how we can be blamed for that.”

“Far easier than taking responsibility and blaming himself, perhaps,” Pip said quietly.

Leo frowned, uneasy with the sincerity in the man’s voice. “Right, come on, give me the names and we’ll see which ones we’ve all written down.”

Somehow, they were going to figure out who was doing this and why, and then things could settle down and go back to normal.

12th July 1845, Wildsyde Castle, The Highlands of Scotland.

“Heels down! Heels down! Move your hands up! That’s it, gie it laldy! Well done, lad!” Lyall shouted, feeling just as pleased by the accomplishment as Jack.

Jack gave a whoop of triumph as rider and pony sailed over the jump, cantering around the enclosure. For a few weeks now, Lyall had taken to coming out here for an hour before dinner, once Jack was home from school, and giving him an extra lesson. He enjoyed the time. Jack was a likeable lad, eager to learn. He looked at Lyall with something approaching hero worship, too, which was unaccountable but nice all the same.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, his face flushed with excitement as he dismounted, hugging his mount tightly before gazing up at Lyall, his eyes shining with pleasure.